The Virginity Mission by Cate Ellink Page B

I’m a great friend. I have no trouble talking to males but that’s where it ends. Is that because I don’t set my mind to taking it further?
    Why is it different with Jason? I’ve gone further with him than anyone. How did that happen? Do I want him more than anyone else? Or has my virginity plan made me set my mind on him?
    How have I become an ‘okay-achiever’ with no confidence? Why hasn’t anyone, before Jason, instilled confidence into me? Does it just get classified as my ‘personality’ and ignored? So many questions, so few answers.
    There’s something about Jason I like. He’s warm and caring, fun and easy-going, hot and sexy. I want to go further with him. What’s more, I don’t want anything getting in my way. I’m no longer after a one night stand, I want a relationship. That’s stretching my goal much further. Am I ready for that? Is that what he wants?
    Thinking about the possibility of a relationship consumes me so when I skid over bits of shale, I right myself automatically. My mind is full of what might be, causing bubbles of anticipation to gurgle inside me. Or maybe it’s the effervescence of fear.
    I make it down the shale-covered mountain with a new resolve. I have no idea how I’ve ended up like I have but it stops now. I’m seizing all life has to offer. I’m going to believe in myself. I’m going to see if I’m what Jason wants. What’s the worst that can happen? He can say no. But at least I’ve asked.
    On the morning of day seventeen, we know we’re not going to make our rendezvous point today. We have at least a day to go, probably two. I can hear Jason’s voice telling me not to keep him waiting. I pick up my pace trying to make us not go past day eighteen. It hurts. Walking downhill, even on normal mountains, is worse than going uphill and of course the last few days have been mostly downhill. Leg muscles scream either way but my thighs scream louder than my calves, and thigh muscles are the ones that hate going downhill. I push my screaming thighs. Silently I chant to ignore the pain. Massage, sex, soak, sex, swim, sex, rub, sex, stretch, sex, relax, sex. Something has to encourage me down that hill and the only word capable of drowning out my screaming thighs is ‘sex’.
    The thought of ten days working on mangroves, no hills in sight and my nights spent with Jason, is a huge incentive. My legs are so weakened from the downhill trekking that I can think about heated sex scenes without any extra knee wobbling. My stomach churns and my pulse races, but they aren’t unfamiliar either. Much of what I’ve encountered on this trip is as scary as any thought of being accepted, or rejected, by Jason. I keep up with the others so that we make our destination by early afternoon on day eighteen. I’m exhausted but only a day late.
    And Jason isn’t here.
    Every part of my body screams, except my voice. I’d convinced myself rejection wouldn’t hurt, but it does. Everything in my body is achingly sore. A bruised ego and cracked heart only add to the damage.
    Neil, another army guy, is here to pick us up. Eighteen days I’ve waited. Dreams of Jason meeting us teased me down the hill faster than anyone thought possible. I promised myself so many things and he isn’t here. Neil doesn’t look at me, so he obviously has no message from Jason.
    I climb into the 4WD with the others, keeping my eyes downcast. When we’re dropped off I mumble my thanks. Neil makes no move to speak to me and I don’t ask. My mind tells me all I need to know—I’ve deluded myself. Kidded myself that someone like Jason could be interested in me. I’ve tricked myself into believing in lust. I’ve focussed so hard on losing my virginity I’ve let logic fade away.
    Shattered inside but determined to let no one know, I do what everyone else is doing: enjoy a hot shower