“What are you doing downtown, anyway?” she asks, slipping her fancy silver laptop into her even fancier bag. “Is your mysterious business here?”

“Grabbing lunch and then making a few calls,” I say, scanning the menu. “Why? Got some other ideas on how to pass the time? I’m sure I could think of a few.”

“Well, since we are at Basic and you’re already here, I feel it’s my duty as a San Diegan to make you stay and eat. The food is good and they have beer.”

“Beer would definitely make it easier to have lunch with you.”

I hear her playful gasp but fail to dodge her fist connecting with my shoulder.

IT TURNS OUT, Harlow was right.

“Did I really just eat mashed potatoes on pizza?” I ask, reaching for my beer.

“Yep, and wasn’t it the best pizza ever?”

It was pretty close, I think, but I’m not telling her that. I finished off half a mozzarella, mashed potato, and bacon pizza by myself. Harlow wasn’t that far behind. “It was good.”

“ ‘Good,’ ” she repeats, shaking her head. “Don’t hurt yourself with the enthusiasm there, Finn.”

“I can give plenty of compliments when the situation warrants.”

“Example?”

“I seem to remember telling you how good your pussy feels.”

Her eyes go wide from across the table and there, that’s what I’ve been waiting for. There’s something about eliciting a reaction from Harlow—whether it be shock or abandon or rage—that tugs at a baser instinct in my chest. I know that makes me some sort of a caveman-asshole, but it feels good and gets both of us off. I’m really not interested in psychoanalyzing it.

“Speaking of which, why did you leave so abruptly on Saturday? I give great back rubs.”

I can tell she’s not prepared for more of this blunt-force honesty because she blinks at me a few times, speechless, but she recovers. “Because it was intense. And I just wanted to get laid.”

I hum into a small remaining bite of pizza crust. “What are you going to do about that libido when I leave town?”

Shrugging, she says, “Masturbate more,” and then takes a huge bite of her own slice.

I laugh. I do really like being around her. “So you majored in communications and your dad is a big-shot cinematographer. What else should I know about you?”

“Finn, don’t you remember our arrangement? You should know I like orgasms. Don’t strain yourself.”

“Come on, Ginger Snap.”

“Fine.” She wipes her hands on a napkin and then tosses it down on the table. “I have a sister, Bellamy.”

“Is she cute?”

Harlow looks at me with disgust. “She’s eighteen, you predator.”

“I mean for my brother Levi. Jesus, trigger finger.”

Laughing she shrugs. “She’s gorgeous but totally crazy.”

I raise an eyebrow, saying, “Genetics are a bitch, huh?”

“Har.”

“Is she in school around here?”