“Never have I ever had sex on the roof of a car at a scenic overlook in Connecticut,” Wilder shouts, causing everyone to quiet down. What the hell is he doing? When no one raises their hands, he takes my arm and shoots it straight up to the sky. “Come on, Pips. Be proud. That was an unforgettable night.”

Excuse me? Sex on top of a car roof? Has he lost his mind?

Chad glances at me, his eyebrows shooting straight to his hairline. “On top of a roof?” he asks.

“Yup,” Wilder says casually while spinning the marshmallow carefully. “Had a dent in the roof for years, but I didn’t care. Worth it.”

“Wow, okay.” Chad turns to Finky. “Keep it going for us.”

Or we can end it now and all go to our respective cabins, because I have a feeling that this is not going to end well for me.

Finky taps his finger to his chin and then says, “Never have I ever used something from the minibars in the cabin.”

Everyone raises their hands, including Wilder, who also raises my hand. “The condoms are trash,” Wilder says. “Can’t even get ‘ribbed for her pleasure’? What the hell is that?”

“Right,” Brad commiserates. “And fifteen dollars for three? My woman likes how I meet her needs, but five dollars per orgasm—outrageous.”

Not, uh, not something I want to know about Brad. Meeting his “woman’s needs” just made me gag.

“Wait, so do you all have lovemaking minibars too?” Wilder asks. “Because I thought we were the only ones with the kinky cabin?”

“You are the only one,” Chad says, almost irritated. “It’s the coveted cabin.”

Ew.

Coveted?

That’s not something you want to hear.

“It’s rare when they let a couple stay in it,” Duncan adds from the side.

Well, at least that’s reassuring. Can’t imagine what it would look like if you took a black light to the place. Probably startling.

“We’ve only had it once,” Brad says, making bile rise in my throat. Brad has been in there? That’s very unappealing to me. Good luck sleeping tonight. “And it was the best eight days of my life.”

His wife elbows him, but he doesn’t seem to care.

Guess what? I do. I care. I don’t need the image of Brad in our cabin while I try to go to sleep tonight.

“I can see that,” Wilder says.

And, Wilder, for the love of God, stop engaging.

“Are the handcuffs still there?” Brad asks.

“They are,” Wilder lazily answers as he stares off to the sky, almost like he’s reminiscing about using them.

“The lining on them is nice, right?”

“Really nice,” Wilder says with a nod. “Top tier if you ask me, and we’ve seen our fair share of handcuffs.”