Free WORTHY, Part 2 by Lexie Ray Page A

I sipped my drink. I had lived in the woods. I was starting to understand the game better now.
     
    “Seriously!” Jane groused. “You two are so boring. Brock, I want something juicy, goddamn it!”
     
    “Fine,” Brock said, smiling easily. “Never have I ever masturbated while living alone in the woods.”
     
    Both of them looked at me expectantly as I flushed heavily, hoping the flashing lights of the club helped conceal my shame a little bit. I hesitated just a moment longer before lifting my glass to my lips and taking a sip.
     
    “That’s hot,” Brock commented as Jane cackled and clapped her hands.
     
    The more we played the game, the drunker I got and the looser my lips became. Jane and Brock were able to guess at some of the things I’d done while out in the woods with Jonathan (“Never have I ever had sex in the great outdoors”) and they delighted in discovering little things about our sex life.
     
    Brock’s commentary, however, became downright disturbing.
     
    “Man, oh man,” he said when I confirmed that I’d never been in a threesome. “Jonathan just isn’t the guy I used to know.”
     
    “Of course he isn’t,” Jane said, thoroughly drunk. “He isn’t the guy anyone used to know.”
     
    “Is there something wrong with the way he is now?” I challenged. “The way he is now is the way I love him.”
     
    “Yeah, yeah,” Brock said. “He’s a loveable guy or whatever. I get that. But he used to be a Casanova, man. It was epic. I was jealous.”
     
    “You took notes from him,” Jane said.
     
    “Yeah.” Brock looked wistful. “Now he’s as pure as the proverbial driven snow.”
     
    “Maybe we should leave him out of our conversation,” I suggested. “Please?”
     
    “Or what?” Brock asked.
     
    “Or don’t,” I said, shrugging. “But it’s probably weird for Jane to think about her brother having sex and stuff.”
     
    She shrugged, rattling the ice cubes in her waning cocktail. “We were pretty close, and he really liked to brag about his exploits.”
     
    “Well, it’s weird for me to think about him having sex before,” I said.
     
    “What, you didn’t think he was a virgin before he met you, did you?” Brock asked. He threw his head back and laughed. “Everyone used to belong to someone else, Michelle. You’re so naïve. I bet even you had been with other people before you fell in with good old Jonathan.”
     
    My silence answered that question. Jane and Brock stared at me, mouths agape, as I blushed for probably the fortieth or fiftieth time that night.
     
    “Unbelievable,” Brock said. “He used to always talk about how badly he wanted to bag a virgin. Poor guy didn’t even know he’d achieved one of his own goals when it happened for him.”
     
    I covered my face with my hands. I wasn’t drunk enough to deal with this. The Jonathan that Jane and Brock talked about so fondly wasn’t the Jonathan I loved. The Jonathan they talked about was someone who sickened me. They couldn’t really be the same person, could they? I made a fierce and frantic wish right there and then: that Jonathan never regained his memories. I knew it was selfish. I knew that my husband suffered because he didn’t have access to those thoughts anymore. But I didn’t want the Jonathan who Jane and Brock talked about anywhere near me.
     
    “I need a tequila shot,” I announced, draining my cocktail.
     
    “It’s about goddamn time,” Jane said. “Let’s do this.”
     
    The rest of the night passed in a blur. We played several more rounds of the game, the questions getting raunchier and more personal with each pass. At one point, Brock and I somehow made it downstairs to the dance floor. I put my arms around him and let him direct the movement of my hips among the rest of the patrons. More than a few eyes were on us, and it made me feel good. I knew I looked sexy in that gold dress and towering heels. They didn’t even hurt my feet anymore.
     
    “Oh