It takes me a full minute to figure out what she’s asking, and when I do, I think I might throw up right there at the corner of aisle 9.

“Condoms,” I choke out. “You want my help buying condoms?”

Her cheeks get even redder as she nods. “And Plan B, maybe? Not that I need it,” she says quickly. “I just think it’d be good to have.”

“Certainly can’t argue with that,” I mutter, the very idea of Lucas Burke procreating utterly vomitous. “But I … I mean, these aren’t for me. I’m just shopping for Matt.” Then I hear how that sounds. “Not that I’m screwing Matt. He just asked for help so he can be prepared, because, well, isn’t it the person wearing the condoms who generally buys the condoms?” I take a beat. “Maybe that’s unenlightened of me. It feels like it is. But if you’re not comfortable doing it, why don’t you have Lucas do it?”

“Oh, he’s just as uncomfortable as I am,” she says shyly, but also a little … proudly? “We’re both new to this and have no idea what we’re doing. God, please don’t repeat that. This is all mortifying. He doesn’t even know I’m getting them. I just thought he’d probably be too shy, and so I figured, well. Taking a leap, I guess.”

Lucas may be a virgin, but judging by his confidence—and pushiness—that first night, I have a feeling he’s nowhere near as “new to this” as he’s told Heather he is.

What a stupid fuck-faced liar.

But of course, I can’t say that, so I go ahead and help Heather pick out protection so that she can have sex with the worst guy on the planet, feeling decidedly the opposite of badass.

As soon as I get back, I trudge upstairs, eager to get rid of my new purchases. Matt and Salem’s door is open, a rare occurrence, and it’s immediately clear that Salem’s not inside. Matt, however, gives me a huge smile and throws out his arms. “Dormie! Did you make Big Papa proud?”

“Matthew, I really need you to know that if you ever call yourself that again, I’m going to throw up on every pair of shoes you own. That said…” I reach into my bag and toss item after item onto his bed, shoving aside the disappointment that Salem isn’t here to witness my triumph. “I sure did.”

“Oh, hell yes.” He dives in, and immediately makes a face. “Gingerbread-flavored lube? Seriously?”

“It’s festive!”

“It sounds disgusting.”

“Well, so does eating lube,” I point out.

He sighs and shakes his head. “You don’t exactly eat— You know what? This feels too much like giving my little sister the sex talk, and I’d rather not.”