How High?

Bella

McDonald's. We went to a McDonald's. I usually would've protested eating such garbage on my new diet but I suspected Grayson wouldn't leave any room for argument and I was starving, anyway. So I ate for what felt like the first time in years.

'He likes you, you know,' Grayson mused. 'Ethan.'

'I know,' I replied after I'd swallowed a gulp of water. 'He's a great friend to me.'

'No,' he said through a laugh, shaking his head and looking down. He placed his sandwich on the wrapper and wiped his hands and mouth with a napkin before dropping it on the sandwich and clasping his hands. 'He likes you, Bella.'

'Yeah...that's what I...'

Huh.

Well, shit.

Grayson widened his eyes, coaxing me to the answer and holding back laughter.

'He...likes me?'

'Uh-hu.'

What?

'You're joking.'

'Nope.'

'Please tell me you're kidding.'

'No can do, Church Bells. Ethan is my twin, I'm kind of made to know these things.'

'Church Bells?' I repeated.

He shrugged. 'Cause your name is Bella and you're very...well, we'll just say very nice.'

Very nice?

I wasn't sure what he was trying to say and I didn't really care. What I was focused on was Grayson thinking that Ethan...I can't even say it, that's how guilty I feel.

'Alright, Grayson,' I started, pushing my nerves aside leaning over the table. 'I'll play along. What makes you think that Ethan and I are anything more than friends?'

His brown eyes twinkled with something new. 'I know about everything that went down seven months ago. And it doesn't take much to notice how tense you both get around each other.' A smirk grew. 'Only sexual tension could shove that large of a stick up both of your asses.'

I watched him sip his drink, my lips twitching. 'Both?'

'Oh, yeah.' A smirk grew on his face.

A frown grew on mine. 'I don't have a stick up my ass. And-and neither does Ethan. He's always all cool and collected.'

Grayson looked at me intensely. 'No he isn't, Bella. He's a mess.'

'Wh...'

Ethan? A mess? Somehow I doubt that. "Completely" and "fine" are the two words that most prominently come to mind when thinking about Ethan Dolan in a social setting.

'He's pretty chill until you come into the equation. Then things go tits up.' Grayson moved his eyes to my chest. 'Literally.'

I put one arm over my boobs and hit him with the other. 'You dick.'

'Don't act so surprised. You've shrunk, like, two cup sizes since the last time I saw you. Push-up bras much?' His brows raised and he threw a fry into his mouth.

'Steroids and sock stuffing much?' I countered.

'Oh, this?' he asked, pointing to his crotch. 'Yeah, that's tout naturel. You're welcome to test it out, but I'm not sure you'd be able to handle this nine inch pogo stick. How big is Brad? Three?'

Four and a half.

'I know for a fact that Ethan is at least—'

'I'm gonna have to stop you right there, but thank you so much for that information that literally nobody asked for.'

I tried to appear nonchalant to get him off my scent and I was pretty sure it had worked. I was more thrown than one would think, not only by what he had said about Ethan, but by what he'd said about...you know...his member. I only knew how big Brad was because he'd both bragged and whined about it to me on a couple of occasions.

'I'm actually pretty fortunate to have this length. The average when erect is five point one inches so I'm pretty close. Plus, the average when flaccid is around three point five which is even better.'

'It's always been a struggle for me; I've got money, and some would say that I'm the most fortunate of the sexes, but I've been greatly let down in the genital department. I was only ever allowed to call it a phallus when I was younger. Do you know what that does to a young man? You have no idea what it's like to feel so out of place, so...like a minority.'

Yeah. He's, um, he's...complicated. But he's, like...super nice, so it's fine. I couldn't imagine having that much man inside of me. Brad's four point four-five inches was more than enough for me, let alone a speculated double of that. And if he was double in length, surely he was double in girth, too.

Fuck me.

That's...rough.

'How hung is Brad?'

'I'm not answering that question,' I replied, quickly and bluntly.

'Oof,' he sounded, leaning back. 'Tightly wound, scatter-brained, stressed, bitchy—'

'Hey, I am not any of those things,' I cut in, offended and suddenly slightly dubious.

'Yup. He's definitely small. There's no way you're getting a good lay.' Grayson was so sure of what he was saying that it got to me.

'I'm...he's...Brad is very good in the bedroom. Very caring and...and nice,' I whispered harshly.

'Oh, yeah? How many times do you come?'

My jaw hit the floor and my globular organs of sight landed right beside it. 'Excuse me?' I gasped out.

'How-many-times-do-you-come?' Each word was drawn out and robotic.

'I—' I stumbled, my eyes still bulging and my mouth still wide.

'Per session.'

'Per...per session?' I tried to collect myself but I was so completely discombobulated that I couldn't seem to let gravity clip back onto my body and ground me.

'Hello? Sometime today. I doubt it's that hard to count, he can't be that good with such a minuscule—'

'I'm not sure if...' I trailed off, hunching my shoulders and looking away. 'I'm not sure if I actually have, yet.'

His features painted a picture of utter confusion. 'You're not sure if you've...'

'If I've ever had an orgasm.'