half of the girls in my year at school got pregnant before A-Levels. So I guess we aren’t really a fair reflection of the greater world.”
They all lost their virginity before fifteen? Oh God, I was a circus freak. A cable-TV channel was probably going to end up doing a documentary on me. The twenty-one-year-old virgin.
I forced a smile. “Ah, well, I don’t think anyone at my school has ever gotten pregnant before being respectably married to a doctor or lawyer, aside from Molly Hanson in 1984, who ran off with a teacher after he got her pregnant in senior year. Since then, the school hasn’t allowed male teachers under the age of forty unless they’re gay. They’re scared the girls will run off with them.”
“They have a point. I definitely would have run off with Mr. Branson if he’d asked. It’s only because he was so good-looking that I was motivated enough to get an A in physics. So anyway, when did you lose your virginity after the big rejection?” she asked, drawing out the last three words with dramatic pausing.
I flushed red. I didn’t want to lie to Emma because she was so open with me. But I couldn’t tell her I was a virgin . . . especially since she clearly didn’t know anyone who was still a virgin after tenth grade. But how would we ever have a proper friendship if she didn’t know the one defining detail about me?
I quickly blurted out the truth before I lost my courage. “Well, it never actually happened for me,” I admitted. Her face screwed up in confusion as her mind started to process what I said. She was judging me, and oh my God, I was freaking out. I rushed on. “Well, until a few months later when I got drunk and that was that.”
She grinned. “Ah, the classic drunken first time. Happens to us all.”
I plastered a bright smile on my face and hated myself for being too weak to stick to the truth. “Yup! Though I can’t say I’ve had many repeats of it, so I’ll have to live vicariously through you.”
“Ugh, I know. There is a major male drought going on these days. But is there anyone in the English course you fancy? Charlie, maybe?” she asked with a knowing smile.
I wrinkled my face up in disgust. “God, no! I could never keep up with his filthy sense of humor.”
“Yeah, I know, right? It’s like . . . what is he trying to cover up with it? I reckon all those stories are just there to hide the fact that he has got a little secret of his own—a very, very little one.”
“Are you trying to tell me he has a tiny dick? How would you know that?” I asked her in shock.
She laughed and tapped the side of her nose. “I have my sources. Let’s just say I overheard Marie saying something to Fiona.”
“Marie and Charlie? You have got to be kidding me.” I gasped.
“Marie and everyone, more like. The girl is a serious player—and that means something, coming from me.”
We ordered our fish and chips and carried on gossiping well into the sticky toffee puddings and our second mojitos. I felt a bit guilty for lying to the most open person I’d ever met, but I figured the second I slept with someone, the lies would be true, and she would never need to know about the half lie.
“Anyway,” Emma said as she spooned the last bit of caramel sauce off her plate and threw her spoon down in triumph. “We got so distracted that I forgot to be more supportive about your fight with your friend. What actually happened?”
I groaned. “It’s too depressing to relive.”
“Do it.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay, but remember . . . you asked for this.”
“Disclaimer accepted. Spill.”
“So, we went out on Monday night to Mahiki. I was craving a man and she’s already seeing someone, so we went out to try to find me a guy. A couple of disgusting old men bought us drinks and we took full advantage. Then we both saw the perfect guy, but of course blond, attractive Angus preferred blond, attractive Lara, so they hooked up. Meanwhile, I got
They all lost their virginity before fifteen? Oh God, I was a circus freak. A cable-TV channel was probably going to end up doing a documentary on me. The twenty-one-year-old virgin.
I forced a smile. “Ah, well, I don’t think anyone at my school has ever gotten pregnant before being respectably married to a doctor or lawyer, aside from Molly Hanson in 1984, who ran off with a teacher after he got her pregnant in senior year. Since then, the school hasn’t allowed male teachers under the age of forty unless they’re gay. They’re scared the girls will run off with them.”
“They have a point. I definitely would have run off with Mr. Branson if he’d asked. It’s only because he was so good-looking that I was motivated enough to get an A in physics. So anyway, when did you lose your virginity after the big rejection?” she asked, drawing out the last three words with dramatic pausing.
I flushed red. I didn’t want to lie to Emma because she was so open with me. But I couldn’t tell her I was a virgin . . . especially since she clearly didn’t know anyone who was still a virgin after tenth grade. But how would we ever have a proper friendship if she didn’t know the one defining detail about me?
I quickly blurted out the truth before I lost my courage. “Well, it never actually happened for me,” I admitted. Her face screwed up in confusion as her mind started to process what I said. She was judging me, and oh my God, I was freaking out. I rushed on. “Well, until a few months later when I got drunk and that was that.”
She grinned. “Ah, the classic drunken first time. Happens to us all.”
I plastered a bright smile on my face and hated myself for being too weak to stick to the truth. “Yup! Though I can’t say I’ve had many repeats of it, so I’ll have to live vicariously through you.”
“Ugh, I know. There is a major male drought going on these days. But is there anyone in the English course you fancy? Charlie, maybe?” she asked with a knowing smile.
I wrinkled my face up in disgust. “God, no! I could never keep up with his filthy sense of humor.”
“Yeah, I know, right? It’s like . . . what is he trying to cover up with it? I reckon all those stories are just there to hide the fact that he has got a little secret of his own—a very, very little one.”
“Are you trying to tell me he has a tiny dick? How would you know that?” I asked her in shock.
She laughed and tapped the side of her nose. “I have my sources. Let’s just say I overheard Marie saying something to Fiona.”
“Marie and Charlie? You have got to be kidding me.” I gasped.
“Marie and everyone, more like. The girl is a serious player—and that means something, coming from me.”
We ordered our fish and chips and carried on gossiping well into the sticky toffee puddings and our second mojitos. I felt a bit guilty for lying to the most open person I’d ever met, but I figured the second I slept with someone, the lies would be true, and she would never need to know about the half lie.
“Anyway,” Emma said as she spooned the last bit of caramel sauce off her plate and threw her spoon down in triumph. “We got so distracted that I forgot to be more supportive about your fight with your friend. What actually happened?”
I groaned. “It’s too depressing to relive.”
“Do it.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay, but remember . . . you asked for this.”
“Disclaimer accepted. Spill.”
“So, we went out on Monday night to Mahiki. I was craving a man and she’s already seeing someone, so we went out to try to find me a guy. A couple of disgusting old men bought us drinks and we took full advantage. Then we both saw the perfect guy, but of course blond, attractive Angus preferred blond, attractive Lara, so they hooked up. Meanwhile, I got
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