costs.
He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to realign his
thoughts. "What, then? Just a one-time thing?"
How the hell had he lost control of this conversation?
"Exactly," she said, smiling with relief, as
though he'd finally mastered a difficult mathematical equation. "Just, you
know, be my friend and help me out. Help me get rid of this albatross. Then it
won't be a big deal anymore."
"A big deal."
"Right. I mean, you know how guys have reacted about it
in the past. It's like a disease."
"Let me get this straight." Anger was a slow burn
in the gut, but growing steadily. She could not be serious. "You want me
to take your virginity so it won't be a problem with the guys you date."
"Well, I—" she began, but he threw his hand
up, commanding silence.
"And then we just go back to being friends," he
continued, the speed and pitch of his voice swelling, turning rougher,
"like nothing ever happened and I wasn't just the guy you gave your most
personal gift to, this thing you've been saving your entire life, waiting for
just the right person. You're just going to throw it away with me so you can
get it over with."
"Well, when you say it like that—"
"How else should I say it?"
"Why are you angry?"
"Angry? I'm not angry." Fuck me, fuck me, fuck
me. "I just want to be clear, I want
to know the new Mia rules as pertains to sex. A one-off with me so you can get
to what you've really wanted all along, the ability to go fuck whoever,
whenever, without the inconvenience of your virginity getting in the way. Does
that about sum it up?"
"Don't talk to me like that."
"Oh, pardon me. Screw the language, I'm focused on the
content."
"But you're not angry."
Her green eyes shone, over-bright with unshed tears. Tears
that normally plucked his heart strings, but not this time. He wanted to make
her cry, wanted to make her hurt the way he was hurting, with all of his grand
plans for the two of them shattered at his feet.
Sex. That was all she wanted from him.
"Nope," he said, slashing a hand across his body,
"not angry."
Of course he was
angry, what the hell did she think? Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The color in her cheeks flushed darker, a raging scarlet,
and her lips pinched tight at the corners. Good. She was angry, too. He wanted
her angry, even as he felt the twinge of guilt, the familiar pull to make it
better.
Not this time. Not this fucking time.
"Right," she said, sarcasm heavy in her tone.
"So then you'll do it."
She was egging him on deliberately. He knew it. Lashing out
to cover her own feelings. The hurt and anger on her familiar face read like
the pages of a book for him, one he knew by heart, but he didn't care. He wouldn't care. His world had just blown up. He couldn't
stand to sit next to her anymore.
Rising, he swallowed past the lump in his throat, looked her
in the eyes and said, "No." Then he turned and walked away.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Belly cramping with shame, Mia watched Derrick stride from
her, disgust in every line of his body. She bit her lip to keep the gathering
dampness at the corners of her eyes in check. She'd cried enough over a man
today, she'd be damned if she'd cry anymore.
But God, it hurt. She'd thought Barry's desertion painful,
but his loss skimmed like a tiny scratch, a blow only to her pride. Derrick
rejecting her, ripping himself from her life. . .
This was heartbreak, the kind songs were written about, the
kind people never recovered from. How could she have been so stupid?
She'd never considered that he might say no.
All she'd ever wanted was someone to stick. To stay. But no
one had, except Barry, and he'd shocked her senseless with his refusal to sleep
with her, then shocked her more with the reason.
Unbeknownst to her, she'd been nothing but a project to him,
an experiment. Could he make her 'perfect' without his services as a plastic
surgeon?
Evidently not.
After three months, he'd announced she'd failed a contest
she hadn't entered and reaffirmed his necessity as a
He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to realign his
thoughts. "What, then? Just a one-time thing?"
How the hell had he lost control of this conversation?
"Exactly," she said, smiling with relief, as
though he'd finally mastered a difficult mathematical equation. "Just, you
know, be my friend and help me out. Help me get rid of this albatross. Then it
won't be a big deal anymore."
"A big deal."
"Right. I mean, you know how guys have reacted about it
in the past. It's like a disease."
"Let me get this straight." Anger was a slow burn
in the gut, but growing steadily. She could not be serious. "You want me
to take your virginity so it won't be a problem with the guys you date."
"Well, I—" she began, but he threw his hand
up, commanding silence.
"And then we just go back to being friends," he
continued, the speed and pitch of his voice swelling, turning rougher,
"like nothing ever happened and I wasn't just the guy you gave your most
personal gift to, this thing you've been saving your entire life, waiting for
just the right person. You're just going to throw it away with me so you can
get it over with."
"Well, when you say it like that—"
"How else should I say it?"
"Why are you angry?"
"Angry? I'm not angry." Fuck me, fuck me, fuck
me. "I just want to be clear, I want
to know the new Mia rules as pertains to sex. A one-off with me so you can get
to what you've really wanted all along, the ability to go fuck whoever,
whenever, without the inconvenience of your virginity getting in the way. Does
that about sum it up?"
"Don't talk to me like that."
"Oh, pardon me. Screw the language, I'm focused on the
content."
"But you're not angry."
Her green eyes shone, over-bright with unshed tears. Tears
that normally plucked his heart strings, but not this time. He wanted to make
her cry, wanted to make her hurt the way he was hurting, with all of his grand
plans for the two of them shattered at his feet.
Sex. That was all she wanted from him.
"Nope," he said, slashing a hand across his body,
"not angry."
Of course he was
angry, what the hell did she think? Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The color in her cheeks flushed darker, a raging scarlet,
and her lips pinched tight at the corners. Good. She was angry, too. He wanted
her angry, even as he felt the twinge of guilt, the familiar pull to make it
better.
Not this time. Not this fucking time.
"Right," she said, sarcasm heavy in her tone.
"So then you'll do it."
She was egging him on deliberately. He knew it. Lashing out
to cover her own feelings. The hurt and anger on her familiar face read like
the pages of a book for him, one he knew by heart, but he didn't care. He wouldn't care. His world had just blown up. He couldn't
stand to sit next to her anymore.
Rising, he swallowed past the lump in his throat, looked her
in the eyes and said, "No." Then he turned and walked away.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Belly cramping with shame, Mia watched Derrick stride from
her, disgust in every line of his body. She bit her lip to keep the gathering
dampness at the corners of her eyes in check. She'd cried enough over a man
today, she'd be damned if she'd cry anymore.
But God, it hurt. She'd thought Barry's desertion painful,
but his loss skimmed like a tiny scratch, a blow only to her pride. Derrick
rejecting her, ripping himself from her life. . .
This was heartbreak, the kind songs were written about, the
kind people never recovered from. How could she have been so stupid?
She'd never considered that he might say no.
All she'd ever wanted was someone to stick. To stay. But no
one had, except Barry, and he'd shocked her senseless with his refusal to sleep
with her, then shocked her more with the reason.
Unbeknownst to her, she'd been nothing but a project to him,
an experiment. Could he make her 'perfect' without his services as a plastic
surgeon?
Evidently not.
After three months, he'd announced she'd failed a contest
she hadn't entered and reaffirmed his necessity as a
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