Every moment of the last two hours flashes in my mind like one of those old school slide projector things. The images are spinning, spinning— “What does this mean?” I blurt out. Next to me, Rachel goes stiff, and I hear Caleb’s muttered ‘fuck’s sake’. What? Do they actually expect me to have a threesome in a mop closet and have no comment? Have they even met me? “Get over yourself, Cay. We had sex, and I wanna talk about it.” “Maybe wait until we’re in private, asshole,” Caleb mutters. “I won’t say anything,” our driver calls from the front seat in a sing-song voice.
