Asher whipped his head in my direction. “You what? You fucked some guy in our car?”

“Oh shut up, like you didn’t get a blowjob from Marcy Wilson while sitting right there in the driver’s seat. Or like you didn’t fuck Marissa Piccadilly in the backseat after prom. Or like you didn’t eat out Farrah Lister during Wheaton Breaker’s party last year. Or—”

“Enough. You make me sound like a slut.”

“You are a slut. I admit to fucking one guy in the backseat and you almost drive off the road. Relax.”

“Just read Ender’s stuff to me.”

“I will so long as we both agree that in real life, I am not a nervous virgin.”

“You are not a nervous virgin. Now read.”

“You know, that means Elliot gives his virginity to his twin brother. That’s just… I wonder who tops?”

Asher’s arm shot out, and he cranked the stereo to maximum volume. Van Halen screamed at decibels so earth-shattering, I covered my ears and yelled—unsuccessfully—over the music. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Asher didn’t hear me—or pretended not to. I couldn’t tell. I swung the knob the other way, but my ears kept ringing, and I rattled my head. “Jesus, I’m deaf now.” I stuck a finger in my ear and wiggled it while opening my mouth really wide, trying to clear the assault. “I can’t hear anything except a high-pitched whine.”

“That’s what I was going for. The conversation about who tops who when it comes to this weird-ass twincest bullshit is not happening. End of discussion. Done. Because we are playing these two men. You and me. Debating topping and bottoming only encourages images to form in my head, and I never, ever want to see those images. Do you hear what I’m saying?”

“Not really, you blew my eardrums. All I hear is wah, wah, wah, wah…”

Asher glared, and I shut up before he decided to piledrive me.

“Okay. I hear you. A little. Besides, obviously Ender tops and Elliot bottoms. It’s totally stereotypical, and I can’t imagine this chick writing it any other way. Big jock-like guy equals top. Scrawny nerd-type guy who is a virgin equals bottom. For the record, that isn’t how it goes. Not always.”

“Atticus!”

“Conversation over. Okay. Relax.”

“Now read. Please.”

I stared at the paper and skimmed until I got to the part about Ender. “Ender. He’s a jock, of course. He’s outgoing and popular. He plays sports. Oh, look at this.” I smiled smugly. “Ender is also a slut, just like you.”

Asher grabbed the page from my hand and crumpled it up before tossing it in the backseat. “Fuck this. Never mind. Let’s just get home and figure it out.”

We wound through the streets of my old neighborhood, silence our newest companion.