"Anyway," Bridge drawls, turning toward our mothers who are waiting patiently for her to finish. "Skylar and I have been keeping a few things from you, and we decided it was time to come clean. I'm sure you'll think this is insane, but trust me, you'll understand."

And then she turns to me expectantly.

I shake my head.

She glares.

I bring my cup of tea to my lips, hiding behind the ceramic rim.

"Are either of you pregnant?" Mr. McDonough blurts.

I spit out my tea, choking on it as I slam the cup back against the counter, shaking my head adamantly. Through the coughing fit, I try to spit out the word no, but I end up spewing spots of tea all over the place.

"God, Dad," Bridge responds, calm and collected, not bothering to clarify because she deems the question unworthy of answering.

"Is that a no?" my mom adds, voice tight.

"It's a no!" I sputter, still hardly able to speak.

My mom releases a long, relieved breath.

Sean just shrugs. "I was only checking."

"Now that we have that settled," Bridge jumps in, cutting the parents off from anymore off-the-script questions. And then she lets her voice trail off a little, eyeing me again, but I fold my lips firmly shut. With a dramatic eye roll, she sighs, giving in. On the outside, a guilty expression passes over my face. But on the inside, I'm secretly doing a little happy dance because no way in hell was I going first.

"Mom, Dad, Mrs. C," Bridge begins. "Skye and I have been in a fight for the past month-"

"No!" Claire gasps, hand going up to her throat, just as dramatic as her daughter.

"Why?" my mother blurts, immediately concerned.

Her dad snorts. "Would you let the kid finish?"

Both moms glance at each other and then take a step back, nodding apologetically and signaling Bridge to continue.

"Like I was saying," she cuts in, "Skye and I have been in a fight, but we made up yesterday because we both realized how stupid we were being. And we wanted to come here because both of us had been lying to each other and to you, and the only way to make everything right in the world is to come clean. Because we need your help. And since Skye is a total fraidy-cat, I'm going to go first." She takes a deep breath, sitting up tall. "I started dating Skye's ex-boyfriend, Patrick, behind her back. And then I lied to her about it for a few weeks, and she caught me red-handed."

There's a brief moment of utter silence.

And then the reaction is swift and fierce.

"Bridget Kendall, how could you do such a thing?" her mother yells. "Skylar has been your best friend for as long as I can remember, what in god's name would make you do that to her?"

"I expected better from you, young lady," her father scolds, voice deep and disappointed.

My mom takes a step toward me. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

But I'm too distracted by Bridge's parents, a little touched by how much they care, a little sorry that my best friend is currently incurring their wrath on my behalf.

"We raised you better than that."

"How could you choose a boy over your best friend?"

"What were you thinking?"

"What kind of man is he to come between two best friends?"

And on and on and on until Bridge cracks.

"Skye!" she shouts, jerking me right back into the conversation. "A little help here?"

Oh, right.

Because when Bridge says her piece on its own, it does sound really bad. Until you hear my piece. Because, well, my piece is a doozy.

"I had already broken up with him," I jump in, cutting Bridge's parents off, trying to save her from anymore reprimanding. "I was already seeing someone else by the time they got together. At first I was upset, but Bridge and I worked it out, and I told her to keep seeing him because I really don't feel anything about him anymore."

"Oh," Mrs. McDonough utters.

"Uh, sorry, kid," her dad mumbles.

Bridge just scowls at them both, raising one pointed eyebrow, vindicated. And then she turns to me, urging me on, lifting both of those incredibly expressive brows until her gaze feels like a physical weight bearing down on me, crushing me.

I subtly reach for another butter cookie.

"So, who is this new boy you've been dating?" my mom asks.

I promptly choke on said butter cookie.

Bridge slaps me right between the shoulder blades, a little harder than necessary if I'm being honest, but I get the message-spit it out! Literally and figuratively.

"Well, at first I lied to Bridge and told her I'd gotten back together with that guy John from college-"

"That jerk?" my mom butts in. "Skylar, don't you dare tell me you started seeing him again after the way he treated you."

Bridge smirks happily.

I wrinkle my nose at her before turning back to the adults. "No, Mom, I was just using it as a cover up, because I was too afraid to tell Bridge who I really started dating."

And then I stop.

My voice shuts down.

My throat closes.

Because this is the moment of truth, the moment I've been dreading.

Sean narrows his eyes, examining me.

Claire widens hers, hopeful.

My mom remains oblivious. "Who?"

"Um..." I murmur, swallowing. And then I fold my hands in my lap, clutching my fingers together until my skin turns white. Saliva gathers behind my closed lips, and I swallow it back down as my mouth suddenly grows dry. My heart starts beating erratically in my chest, thumping on and off and on and off, pressing so hard my entire body twitches with the rhythm. Everything about me binds tight, clams up, clenches and wraps and folds until I'm all tied up, begging for release, pleading with the pressure to just stop, to go away. But the longer I stay silent, the longer it builds because there's only one way out, one escape, one road to freedom.

"Ollie," I rasp.

But they all stare at me blankly.

I take a deep breath because even just admitting that little bit already made me feel better. And then I repeat, voice louder-dare I say verging on confident-and completely clear. "Ollie. I started dating Ollie, your son, Bridge's brother. We've been together since New Year's."

"Really!" Claire cries, ecstatic, as though she's been waiting for this moment for years.

"Really?" Sean mutters, completely shocked, as though for years he's been telling his wife that this moment would never happen.

I hardly hear them.

The moment those words pass through my lips, all the tension uncoils, falls away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief, of calm, of peace. The knots, the worries, the fears, they disappear. They're gone. For the first time in a long time, I feel utterly unrestricted, as though nothing is holding me back, as though nothing ever will again. So I reveal another secret, wanting more than anything for this sense of liberation to continue.

"We're in love with each other," I admit, growing lighter, as though at any moment I'll just lift up and start to soar.

"That's wonderful," my mom chimes in, overwhelmed. "I'm so happy for you both."

"Welcome to the family, kid," Sean teases, reaching around Bridge to nudge my shoulder.

"You're going to have the most beautiful babies," Claire sighs.

"Mom," Bridge jumps in. "Slow your roll. I'm pretty sure this is why they didn't want to tell any of us."

"What?" she asks innocently.

But again, I've barely registered their reactions. I'm drunk on telling the truth, high on this weightlessness, this freedom. I've been a pathological liar for so long, I forgot what honesty feels like. I love it!

"I also have my own column at the paper that I never told you about," I confess, almost in another world, as though this is all happening in a dream.

"Really?"

"What?"

"Have I read it?"

"It's the sex column," I declare bluntly, no hesitation. Bridge squeezes my leg, but I ignore her, pressing on, just wanting to get it all out. "I've been writing a sex column."

Man, this feels so good to get everything off my chest.

Blissful.

Heavenly.

"And that's not all, I was a virgin...writing a sex column. I was lying to everyone. My boss. My coworkers. All of the readers."

I'm starting to veer off course, I know, but for some reason I can't seem to stop myself. Confession after confession rises to my lips, spilling over like a waterfall I can't control. The dam is breaking, and I'm just caught in the wave, riding it, tumbling over and over, unaware of the damage being done around me.

"And the night I broke up with Patrick, I thought all of that was going to change, I thought I would finally be able to stop lying about one thing. Instead, I ended it with him. And then I walked home broken-hearted, and Ollie was waiting for me. And he told me he was sorry for hurting me all those years ago when he rejected me. And he told me he loved me. And we just gave in to the passion because I thought I was over what happened, I thought I had moved on. But I hadn't. I stopped lying about being a virgin sex columnist, but I just replaced it with a lie that was so much worse, a lie to myself. Because I was still holding on to the past, the entire time I was still holding on, testing him, not trusting him. But now I do. I've let it go. And now he's gone. And-"

"Skye," Bridge whispers, pinching me. "I think that's good."

I stop cold.

Dead in my tracks.

My eyes fly wide as the world comes back into focus. My cheeks burn. My hands sweat. The silence filling the air drags. All I hear are crickets-actual crickets, because, well, we're in farm country.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

Did I just tell my mom and Ollie's parents that I was a virgin? As in, past tense. As in, I had sex with your son. Multiple times. Again and again and again. Because he's my roommate, and you know that. And maybe you've read my column. But even if you haven't, you probably will now, and you'll know that all the stuff I've been writing about the past few weeks has been about him, and- Oh my god.

I can't breathe.

For real this time.

The lingering quiet is suffocating me.

So...I fill it.

Bad choice.

Horrible.

"This one time in high school when you were out of town, Bridge and I had a party, and our friends broke a window when they were drunk. But we were too scared to tell you the truth, so we told you someone tried to break in, and we had to call the cops so you wouldn't be mad. And then you made us cookies because you felt so guilty, and I always felt really bad about that," I gasp because I need to say something, anything to make them stop thinking about what I just said two minutes ago.

The silence continues.

So, I do too.

"And when we were kids, Ollie and his friends were picking on us one day, and we wanted to get back at them. So we took some of the screws out of the jungle gym, and that's why it collapsed and that's how Ollie broke his arm."

Really, someone, please stop me.

Please.

Now.

"And in college, Bridge dared me to go streaking, so I dared her to jump in the fountain on the front quad in her underwear, and-"

"Okay," Bridge interjects, clamping her hand over my lips, sealing my mouth shut for me. "I think that's enough truth time for one day."