It's only a few weeks into the school term and, if Olive were sensible, she'd be studying. Today's a light day, meaning she has plenty of time to do so, if she just buckles down, and it's not like she isn't a focused, disciplined student when she wants to be. Even without these grades contributing to the college applications she won't be writing
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"What will only end in tears, Miss Penderghast?"
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"Uh, Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams, Mr. Murdock," she says, shaking her head. "They are, you know, it's the love story of our - my generation and now they're broken up and it's just... sad, is what it is. But I guess that's old news."
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"Unless you think love stories are particularly disgusting." I pause, then remind her, "You said ew."
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She really would prefer not to share the details, but since she's a fairly bad liar for someone who's told such big ones and he caught her anyway, there's no reason not to admit to that much.
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There's really no reason to be so fuckin' desperate and try so goddamn hard to please your man. Guys are fuckin' simple. No offense to women or anything, but they're the ones that oughta come with an instruction manual.
"You can read all you want, but practice is always more fun."
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She's entirely in favor of the notion that practice makes perfect, and he's right that it's a hell of a lot more fun. She's pretty sure, though, that going to the dentist would be more fun than some of this.
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"God, my mom used to read all that shit. Cheap romance novels, too. The fuckin' euphemisms are always the worst. Nobody's gonna get off on you callin' their dick a member."
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Sliding up to Olive, she peers at the cover of the magazine. The combination of words on the front cover suggests that this is certainly not the sort of magazine that she has ever read. "Oh dear."
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"Oh goodness." Miranda tilts her head to peer at the pages Olive is looking at, letting out a tiny gasp in surprise. "That would not be enjoyable, at least not that I should think it should be. Oh goodness."
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That said, with this here for Miranda to peruse and her being - oddly enough to her way of thinking, since it was never true before - the more experienced one here, it seems important to be clear. She doesn't know if Miranda's ever had sex before, although she knows her options were seriously limited before the island, but she does know she doesn't want her thinking Cosmo's the end all be all of modern sex. "I mean, this is just a crazy magazine pandering to women with low self-esteem who think turning themselves into trick ponies will help them keep their boyfriends. Not that there aren't, you know, a wide variety of things you can do, just... as awkward as it can be, it's also ( ... )
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Placing her own textbooks down, wrapped in a waxen burlap bag, Claire sinks to her knees and rests her chin lightly on Olive's shoulder, reading only a few words before her cheeks flush a deep red and she shakes her head, dipping until her forehead rests against Olive's shoulder instead.
"Why did I just do that? Seriously. Why?"
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"Some of it's actually really funny. And not all of it is horrible or even risks maiming for you and your sexual partner of choice."
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But still. Sometimes, one doesn't have to see it fully to cringe.
"Though, hey, at least it's comforting to know that reading this stuff makes you cringe as much as I do. Now if anyone suggests bending like a New York pretzel, I can say that I have it on good authority that it'd be a bad idea."
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