I pressed my lips together. That wasn’t a half-bad idea. Hannah loved my mom, but then again, it might be embarrassing. And not everyone had a mom like mine—willing and able to offer healthy advice on sex. And, sure, Google had information, but there was a huge difference between reading an article or watching a video created by a total stranger and gathering advice from someone you trusted. Someone who could understand you more than any clinical website or school lecture ever could.

Mom set the Nutella down. “Anything,” she said again. “The pill. Flavored condoms vs. regular—”

“Mom!” I groaned, raising my hands in defense. I chuckled. “Let me come to you.” I walked past her, heading toward my room.

“Amber,” she said through her laughter.

I stopped halfway to my room. “Yeah?” I asked timidly, terrified of another mention of the Smile Maker or flavored condoms.

She stopped before me, her hands on my shoulders. “Jokes aside,” she said. “You know you can always ask me anything, right?”

“I know, Mom. And I love you for it.” I patted the hand that held my shoulder.

She was the best mom ever, but she wasn’t in high school. And that’s who people like Hannah needed.

Someone in the same situation.

Someone she could trust who wasn’t an adult.

Someone who wouldn’t judge…who would get it.

An idea burst in my mind like a bright flash of lightning.

“Uh-oh,” Mom said. “What’s happening up there?” She pointed to my forehead, and I blinked a few times, her earlier words echoing in my head.

“I’ve got to make a call,” I said, still more in my head than with her. I reached into my back pocket for my cell and headed to my room. “Thanks, Mom!” I called over my shoulder as I shut the door.

I leaned my back against it, staring down at the number I’d never used for anything other than tech support.

A slow smile shaped my lips.

It’s crazy.

But it just might work.

I pushed call, my fingers shaking as I held the cell to my ear.

“You know we’ve only been apart a couple of hours, Pixie,” Dean answered, his smooth voice heating my skin. “You can’t be ready to forfeit the challenge already.”

“Hell no,” I said, praying I didn’t sound as nervous as I was. “I need to pose a hypothetical question.”

“Intrigued. What’s up?”

“If I was searching for a site but couldn’t trace it, where would you think it was?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t connect the dots on my plan.

“Are you asking me for advice on how you plan to beat me?”

“Maybe,” I said, grinning. “You never said that was against the rules.”

“Clever, Pixie.”

“Sometimes,” I said, mimicking our earlier conversation. “Now, thoughts?”