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“Dude, back off,” I hear John snap from behind me.
I turn around to see what’s up and find him storming for the door while his two buddies shake with quiet laughter.
That’s the worst, when your friends are getting a laugh at your expense, and worse for guys with their fragile egos.
“What’s wrong, John?” I call after him.
He stops in his tracks and looks at me, turning more shades of red than even I can manage on a good day. “Nothing,” he grouses, his brow drawn, oozing annoyance.
But his friends aren’t letting him off the hook so easily. “John… has a bug in his craw about something,” Thomas says, pressing his lips together to suppress a smile.
Matthew gives John a friendly smack on the back, like that’s going to help. Instead, John looks like he wants to strangle his buddy.
That’s not going to help him in God School. But I keep that to myself.
“What’s bothering you, John?” I’m nosy and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m curious as hell about these guys.
Might as well have some fun, especially after they dumped all over my love of vanilla ice cream. The irony. These guys, headed for the priesthood, challenging me for liking plain vanilla ice cream.
They are the definition of vanilla, for cripe’s sake.
“John… is a virgin,” Thomas whispers before he doubles over with laughter.
Oh. Okay. Is that strange, considering who he is? They’re becoming priests. Are they even allowed to have sex before?
I’m so confused.
I’m surrounded by piety day and night and am not used to people talking about virginity or anything else related to sex. Could this get us in trouble? There are rats everywhere, happy to turn in sinners, with the Resident Assistants at the top of the food chain.
How sad that this is my college experience—denying my sexuality. I’m freaking twenty years old. I should be screwing everything in sight.
Instead, every night, I’m in bed alone with my hand down my PJ’s, watching YouPorn.
“Are you…” I start to say, unsure how to proceed, “are you guys not virgins? I mean, how does that work? Aren’t you supposed to be saving yourselves for… something?”
Thomas and Matthew look at each other and burst out laughing.
“Rose, we’re not in seminary yet. We can do whatever we want until then,” Thomas says.
Okay, so does that mean…?
Dare I ask?
I take a step closer to them, emboldened by what I think could be an advantage. “So, you’ve done the deed? Like with another person? Or by yourself? Because by yourself doesn’t count.”
Thomas pushes his long sandy hair off his shoulders and rolls his eyes. “Yes, Rose, I’ve had sex with another human being. What about you?”
Turning the tables.
“I’ve had my share of fun. But then I’m not heading off to the priesthood. Or the nunnery.”
He tips his head. “Maybe not, but you’re at this Christian school. How do you reconcile that?”
I play with the tips of my long hair. It’s a habit I have when I’m thinking. “It’s simple. This is the only place my parents would let me go. Look at me. Do you think I actually chose this place? Don’t you think I’d be better off just about anywhere else?”
When I pitched the idea of a small liberal-arts college to my parents, their heads nearly exploded. It never came up again. It was this school or nothing, even though when it came down to it, my mother wasn’t enthusiastic about any of it.
“Those fancy places are full of… sinners,” she had cried. “The students and the teachers. They’re all alike, with crazy ideas about how the world should be run.”
