Ping Pong

“Want to make it really interesting?” Ned asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at her as he picked up the ball. 

“I’m not stripping with you.” Hillary replied, knowing exactly where his teenage brain had led him. 

“That was not . . .”

She interrupted him. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Fine I was going to suggest spicing it up with some strip ping pong.”

“Ned, I’m your best friend.”

“And you’re a girl.”

“So?”

“Boobs.”

Hillary rolled her eyes. “You want to see my boobs?”

“Well, I mean unless they’re weird.” He screwed his face up slightly, it was his thinking face but he always looked constipated to Hillary when he did it. “Actually, I’d want to see weird boobs too, just need some warning if they are weird.”

“Why do you think my boobs are weird?”

“Well, you’re the one who didn’t want to show me them.”

“Because you’re my friend not because they’re weird.”

“Prove it.”

“I’m not flashing you just to prove my boobs are normal.” 

 Ned shrugged. “Worth a try.” 

“Let’s just play ping pong we both know I’m going to win and I don’t want to see you topless.”

Ned shrugged again. “Your loss.”