“Are you itchy anywhere else?” I just hope it hasn’t spread.

“No. I showered as soon as we got back from our walk in the forest.” She goes for the button on my shorts.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking your lightning rod.”

“I think I’d notice if I had poison ivy on my dick, Sunny. Remember I told you I’m immune?”

“What if you’re wrong? Why aren’t I immune?”

I move her hands away, unbutton my pants, and drop my shorts, along with my underwear—to humor her. My balls are almost back to their regular size, and I’ve got a semi. “See? No rash.”

The door bursts open. “Is everything okay? I heard Sunny sc—” Lily stops short. “Holy geez! You weren’t lying.” Her eyes are fixed on my half-mast lightning rod.

Randy’s right behind her. He’s in a pair of boxers, and Lily is wearing his shirt, I realize now. That didn’t take long. I pull the underwear back up, but leave the shorts where they are, wrapped around my ankles, and put my hands up to shield Sunny’s boobs. Randy’s already turned away.

“Nice tightie-whities, Butterson.”

“Nice patch of chest hairs, Ballistic. What are you up to now, three or four? And my underwear is red. Not white.”

“Would you two stop it! What am I going to do, Miller? I have poison ivy on my boobs, and it’s itchy!”

Lily closes the door on Randy and elbows me out of the way. She pulls Sunny into the bathroom and flips on the light. I’d be all over the girl-on-girl action if my girlfriend—I’m calling her that now—wasn’t crying and didn’t have a rash on her boobs. Also, I don’t want to share her. With anyone. Not even her bestie.

Lily sticks her head out. “Get me baking soda, please.”

“You got it.” Baking soda is one of the few things that can take the itch out of poison ivy. I learned that in Boy Scouts.

I hunt down the baking soda in the kitchen while Lily calms Sunny. It takes forever to find it. By the time I get back, the shower is running and Lily is standing in the hall with Randy. They’re close-talking and so absorbed they don’t even notice me ease past them into the bedroom. I rifle through my bag until I find the box of condoms. I toss it to Randy. “I’ve got Sunny from here. You two play safe.” Then I shut the door and lock it.

I make a paste out of the baking soda, and when Sunny gets out of the shower I slather it all over her chest while she lays on the bed and sniffles.

Then I eat her cookie to make her forget about the itch.

It works. Twice.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

PORNO CAR WASH PROBLEMS

The distractions worked well enough last night, but they’re not so effective this morning. Overnight the rash has gotten worse.

“What am I going to do? This looks awful!” Sunny gestures to her bare chest.

“It’s not that bad, baby.” I’m sort of lying. It doesn’t look great.

She can tell. “Are you serious? I have to teach yoga in three days. I can’t do that like this!”

“You’ll be wearing a shirt, though. Won’t that cover it?”

“I wear tank tops. It won’t cover this!” She motions to her neck and collarbones.

It wasn’t until Randy knocked on the door and reminded me we had to get a move on that I remembered the charity car wash this afternoon. It’s already eleven forty-five. I need to shower and get dressed, but first I need to calm Sunny down again.

She wouldn’t have sex this morning without a shirt on no matter how much I assured her that I don’t care, and the rash isn’t contagious. She’s self-conscious. Overnight it’s crept up her throat, blossoming into blisters that nearly reach her face.

I feel terrible. If we hadn’t had sex in the forest, she wouldn’t have this problem. The only upside is that I don’t have to make excuses as to why she can’t come to this fundraiser with me. Any other time I’d want her there for bunny cover—and because she’s awesome—but since I want to pick the dude’s brain who’s running it, and it pertains to a venture I’m hoping might eventually include Sunny, the poison ivy is an unfortunate blessing.

“Maybe it’ll clear up by then.”

“In three days? I’m blistering. Do you know what happens to blisters? They turn into scabs. I’m going to be scabby. I’ll be disgusting!”

She has a point. She’s being extreme, though. “You could put makeup on it or something.”

“I don’t wear makeup. Besides, you can’t put makeup on open sores.”

I run a hand through my hair, trying to come up with a solution, even if there isn’t one. “Should we take a trip to a medical clinic?”

Her frustration softens. “They can’t do anything about it.” She sighs. “I wanted to come with you to the fundraiser, but I can’t go looking like this.”

“I still think you’re beautiful.” At least where she isn’t covered in poison ivy she’s beautiful. And on the inside.

“I look like I have a disease. Can you imagine if people took pictures and posted them on the Internet? The rumors would be awful. Neither of us needs that.”

While Sunny and I haven’t been out much in public, the few pictures of us from my weekend at her place are now hashtagged with #bunny or #thebarbieandkenofhockey. The recognition that we’re a couple is something, but the nicknames are not my favorite—and not Sunny’s either. Sunny with blisters all over her would probably be tagged with something even worse.

I pull her into a hug. “I shouldn’t have used a log as a bed.”

“You weren’t alone. I’m just as much to blame. It was fun at the time. Nature makes me horny.”

“Me too. Next time we’ll bring blankets.”

“Next time?”

“If you want there to be a next time. Otherwise we can stick to indoor sex.” Talking about sex is making me hard again. “I’m sorry your boobs are itchy.”

“Me, too.”

“I’ll bring back Calamine lotion. I’m glad it wasn’t your cookie.” I kiss the edge of her jaw.

“Oh God. Don’t even say that! We would’ve had matching damaged parts!” She pats my nuts and my semi through my shorts. “I’m so relieved everything’s almost back to normal.”

The left nut is still somewhat swollen, but it’s healing up nice. Sunny keeps patting; we stop talking and start kissing. Clothes come off—except for Sunny’s shirt. We have slow, easy sex on her sunflower comforter. If it weren’t for wanting to keep her in my life in a more permanent way, I’d blow off the fundraiser and my research mission to stay in bed with her all day.

***

Randy knocks on the bedroom door about ten minutes after I give Sunny her second orgasm. “We’re only gonna be gone a couple hours, Miller. Give your girl a break.”

Sunny lifts her head from my chest and smiles. “You should go so you can come back.”

“Good call.”

I throw on a golf shirt and a pair of shorts and fix my messed-up hair. Sunny’s curled up in bed, reading a book for one of the classes she’s taking this fall, by the time I’m ready to go. She wants to get a head start. Sunny’s a different smart—like me. The book part is tedious for her too; the part where we get to put it into action is where we shine. We’re the same in a lot of ways. I kiss her on the forehead and then the lips. She looks sad when I pull away.

“Are you okay?” I tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear.

“Just tired from all the exercise.” She stretches and puts the book down on her stomach, her grin cheeky.

As I stare down at her, a weird, unsettled feeling makes my chest clench. “I don’t have to go if you don’t want me to.”

“It’s for a good cause, so you should definitely go.” It sounds more like what she thinks I want to hear than what she wants to say. “I’m probably going to catch a nap, maybe paint my nails with Lily or something else girly so I can find out what happened last night.”

I’ll be fishing for the same information on the ride to the fundraiser. “You’re a hundred-percent sure?”