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I abandon any subtlety. “Does your family hate soccer? Or hate that you play soccer?”
Fuck, he’s rubbing off on me. Adler would lose his shit if he heard me calling his life’s passion by the American term.
Will’s smirk suggests he’s thinking the same thing. Proud of his influence. “It’s complicated. And no matter what you say, I don’t think that you hate soccer. It’s a field and a goal and a ball.”
“I hate…I hate that it overtakes everything. That it’s this force that consumes so much attention. That it’s all anyone knows about me.”
He nods. “So, tell me something no one knows about you.”
I inhale. Exhale. Deliberate a few different responses. Then decide. “I’m a virgin.”
Will chokes out a cough, very similar to the sound he made when I told him an orgasm helped me fall asleep. “What? Really?”
I shrug like it’s no big deal rather than a vulnerable admission. The bravado is forced, not my normal confidence. “Fuck me and find out.”
His eyes widen. A little pride mixes with embarrassment. In the short time I’ve known him, I’ve learned Will doesn’t get caught off guard very easily. He’s hard to faze, so it’s satisfying to surprise him.
“Your turn.”
Thank God I’m drunk. It makes this nonchalance much easier. The memories of the last time I told a guy that fight to the surface, just like I was worried they would.
The, “That’s so sexy,” and, “I’ll make you feel so good,” and, “It’ll be so special,” all echo around in my head, making my skin feel too tight and itchy. He made my virginity feel like a prize, which was exactly what I was to him.
Will doesn’t say any of the same things Ansel did. I knew he wouldn’t. Aside from telling me he doesn’t give a fuck who my brother is, he’s never once mentioned Adler to me. He’s not in awe of or in competition with my brother.
This is the guy that fingered me as a favor. Who I’m certain has had sex with a lot of women and I’d wager doesn’t remember anything about most of them.
Silence. A lot of silence.
I lean down, pick up my glass from the floor, and take another swig, ignoring the feel of his eyes on me. Trying to act like it won’t matter to me if he doesn’t share anything. Or worse, if he chooses something insignificant.
Finally, he speaks. “My mom tried to kill herself after my dad went to prison.”
I instantly still, listening to Will’s heavy exhale.
“The doctors who treated her know about it, I guess. But I’ve never told anyone, especially my brother. My mom’s explanation was she forgot to eat and fainted. He was seven—not about to question things. I doubt he even remembers that day. But I…” He swallows. “I remember. I found her. I called the ambulance. Went to the hospital with her to have her stomach pumped. We’ve never spoken about it, just like we don’t talk about my dad ever. She knew our dad was gone—locked away for years. And she tried to leave us forever. We would have ended up—I don’t even know. Foster care, probably. That’s not the sort of thing you just get over or forget about.”
I don’t feel drunk anymore. I’m still warm, the buzz of alcohol heating my veins. But I feel clearheaded. Sad.
“How old were you?”
“Ten. It was a long time ago. You asked about my family, if they hate soccer. They don’t. They just…my relationship with them is complicated. That day complicated it even more. Tripp—my brother—has no clue what happened. My mom never told him. And I didn’t want to be the one to tell him. I wish I didn’t know, and I resent her for that too. I don’t know who else she thought would find her. So…yeah.” He shakes his head, then takes a long pull of beer. “Sorry. I should have said something else.”
“No. I’m glad you told me.”
His mom tried to commit suicide, and he’s never told anyone. I can’t imagine experiencing that, let alone carrying the weight of it around alone. I’m sad for his mom, that she was depressed enough to do that. And my heart breaks for the little boy who found her.
I feel innocent in other ways besides sex. My life has been easy by most measures. I complain about silly drama with my friends and the attention that comes along with my last name, but I’ve never gone through anything like what Will just described. I grew up with two loving parents and a protective brother, with everything I could possibly need and pretty much whatever I wanted. There were rules—curfews and allowances and expectations—but if I asked for something, I usually got it. I’ve never struggled for anything.
I wonder what Will’s childhood was like before that happened. If he ever got to experience being a carefree kid.
“Oh.” I’m not sure what else to say. If I should ask more questions or say sorry again or what. We’re…friends, I guess, and I’ve never been friends with a guy. Not the kind where you do more than exchange small talk at bars, at least. Not this sort where you swap secrets.
“Why haven’t you had sex?” he asks me.
“I just…haven’t.”
What happened with Ansel is another secret I’ve never shared with anyone. I was angry, humiliated, and felt foolish. There was no one in my life I felt comfortable sharing that with. I didn’t want to discuss it with my friends. Adler would have been furious. My mom would have been sympathetic, but I know she would have been thinking I should have known better. And my dad…no way was I describing how I had gotten into that situation to him. It would have been torture for the both of us.
