Free The Charlotte Chronicles by Jen Frederick

green.  I can’t imagine putting one of these on Nathan and definitely not a lime green one.  I pluck the gold foiled one out of her hands. “I’ll take this one.”
    “The green one tastes like lemon-lime,” she sings.
    I make a face and stick the gold one under my pillow. We chat a little while longer until Dad comes by and says that the car is ready to take Greta home.
    As I’m getting ready for bed, it occurs to me that I should have had Greta bring over something sexy to wear. I have nothing that might stir a boy’s interest. My bras are plain and so are my underwear, and what’s not plain is rather juvenile.
    Perhaps I could filch something from Mom. I creep out of my bedroom and down the hall to my parents’ bedroom. Their door is closed, but I hear their voices which means there is no way I can get inside. Turning I start to head back to my room when I hear my name and then Nathan’s. Instead of leaving, I draw closer and press my ear to the door.
    “Aren’t we just saying ‘Sure, Nate, come and defile our angel all you want. In fact, let me buy you the condoms. Need any help slipping them on?’” It is Dad, sounding surly and gruff, a pretty unusual state for him. He’s always easy-going with Mom and me. I make a sad face for him. I hate that my daddy is sad because of me, but does he really think I’m never ever going to have sex? That sounds pretty dismal. How would I ever have kids? How would they have grandkids?
    “If her current medical regime wouldn’t have made birth control contraindicated, I would have put her on the pill.” Mom’s voice is farther away, and I can barely make out her words. My guess is she’s standing in the adjacent bathroom and Dad is sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace in their bedroom. He’s probably drinking Scotch or something amber in color. I’ve learned that anything darker than, say, a Mountain Dew is going to make me sick.
    “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, sunshine. “
    Mom laughs. “Didn’t we make the decision together that we’d rather have Charlotte experience safe sex than explore it with strangers without protection?”
    “Sure, but we made that decision when she was eight and still called me Daddy unironically. I thought I had a good twenty years before she’d start thinking about sex.”
    Really, Dad? When I was thirty? I stop making my sad face for him. Now I’m frowning.
    “Would you really not want your baby girl to enjoy sex, Bo? That’s your wish for her?”
    “I feel like this is a trick question. Like there’s no right answer.”
    I hear him shift on the sofa and then footsteps. Mom’s voice is louder, clearer now. She’s joined him on the sofa.  “I’m not ready for her to grow up either, but I don’t see how we stop it, and I’d rather she learn about stuff from someone like Nathan who’d gnaw off his own arm before he hurt her than some other stupid North Prep punk.”
    “When you put it like that . . .” Dad sounds reluctant, but he’s obviously given up the fight. I grin to myself.
    “Besides it’s only for a short while, and I put the fear of God into Nate this morning.”
    “You did? Because I worked him over last night with the whole ‘I trust you not to betray the goodwill of your aunt and me.’”
    There’s a slapping of hands as if they’ve just high-five each other. My parents.  Gah .
    “We make such a good team,” says my mom.
    “I know,” Dad says smugly. “Now swing your leg over here, sunshine, and let’s practice some of our other team moves. Like the one where you—” His voice is abruptly cut off, and there aren’t any more words, just noises that gross me out.
    Wrinkling my nose, I straighten up only to run into a Nate-sized wall. He places a hand over my mouth to stifle a yelp of surprise and then winks at me, slowly dragging me down the hall to my bedroom.
    “So your parents still get it on regularly?” He grins.
    Inside my room, I flop onto the bed