“Ohmygod, you really have it bad, don’t you? Okay …” He rolls his eyes and pulls something out from a drawer. “I got this at the school’s clinic a few days after X and I found you googling ‘how to have sex.’ ”

In a grand flourish, he reveals a series of pamphlets that say:

So You Want to Bottom?: Tips to Receiving Anal Sex Safely

How to Be a Thoughtful, Safe Top.

But the one that catches my eye is:

When You’re Ready to Have Sex.

“You go to the clinic?” I ask.

“Girl.” Benny’s glare pierces me. “X and I go all the time. I got tested for STDs before I came here, post-Rhett, and I hadn’t hooked up with anyone until X. But he still insisted we get tested before we fucked. Now that we’re hooking up with other people, we go together, like, every other week.”

“Wait, who are you hooking up with?”

“You are nosy,” Benny says, patting my head like I’m a puppy. “One day, little grasshopper, one day.”

I flip through the pamphlet about bottoming, but it’s so sterile.

“Do you think Jack and I should get tested? I’m a virgin. Jack is the only person I’ve ever … done anything with.”

“Peace of mind is not just the headline of a very poignant article from O Magazine that I read when I’m about to spiral,” Benny says. “You haven’t been with anyone, but what about Jack?”

“I have no idea. We haven’t talked about stuff like that. His past. I know he hasn’t even kissed a guy before, but girls?”

Benny purses his lips and stares impatiently, waiting for me to come to the conclusion he’s already made.

“This feels awkward,” I admit.

“Sweetie, if you can’t talk to me about sex after you saw me fully splayed out like a Thanksgiving turkey getting stuffed, how are you going to have it?”

“No,” I say quickly. “Not that. Thanks for that image, by the way. I thought I’d scrubbed it from my brain, but nope.”

“You’re welcome!” he cheeses.

“I mean, like, bringing all this up to Jack.”

“Wait, so you fondle each other but don’t talk about it?”

“When you put it like that, it sounds, you know, bad,” I say. “Okay, this stays between us, but the other day, we were hanging out in his dorm, and when he went to the bathroom, I might’ve done a little snooping—”

Benny grabs at his chest. “Ugh, I’m so proud.”

Ignoring him, I continue, “And I found a box of brand-new condoms, lube, and a fancy anal douching kit in a toiletry bag right in the top drawer of his desk. It was just, like, right there.”

“What size were the condoms?” Benny asks, eyes wide.

“You’re a pig.”

“Oink, binch.”