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“Why’s that?” The waitress returns and goes to hand him the bill, but he fends her off with the credit card. “I trust you, darlin’,” he grins. She giggles before slipping away to run the card.
“I’ve looked her up,” I explain. I don’t tell him that I check her socials every night. I’m obsessed. I check her Instagram to see what she and her friends are doing. I check her Facebook to keep up with her family events. She doesn’t update her TikTok account, but she has one, and her likes are set to public. I go through and watch the videos she watches. “I know this girl inside and out. I think I’m in love with her.”
Saint looks skeptical, and rightly so. “Let me get this straight. You stalked this girl. And you think that’s love?”
His phrasing seems a little aggressive, but he’s not wrong. I nod in agreement. “Yeah. Sounds about right.” I don’t like his use of the word stalk, though.
“You’re pretty much in lust with this girl,” he corrects. “That’s why you’re getting drunk over her on a Thursday night. Not even night,” Saint checks his watch, “it’s barely 6:30.”
Even better. More time to sober up before bed and drink water so my hangover isn’t as bad tomorrow morning. “It’s not lust, Saint.” But I have to admit, my need for herdidincrease after she admitted to me that she was a virgin.
My best friend disagrees, but he seems to know better than to keep doing so quite as adamantly. Instead of telling me I’m wrong, he purses his lips to think. I’m like a teenager myself. The more he tells me not to be with her, the more it pushes me toward her. He realizes this and changes tact. “Alright, Holy. Here’s what you do. You go and fuck the girl. Good and rough. Get it out of your system. I’m talking about filling all her holes. One night of just plain fucking and going at it. Then tell me if you still want her this badly.”
Reverse psychology. I’m a few beers in, but my brain still functions. “Don’t tempt me, Saint,” I glare at him. “I’ll do it. You know I fucking will.”
“Isn’t that the point?” He asks with a bemused look on his face. The waitress comes by and surreptitiously drops his credit card and receipt on the table. Her number is scribbled in the corner of the guest copy. “Maybe if you fuck her, you’ll see what I see, which is that she isn’t the end-all, be-all girl that you think she is. Your dick is driving you right now, and you either need to follow it to greener pastures or suck it up.”
He’s mixing metaphors, I think. “I can’t just fuck her,” I tell him after a few moments.
Saint signs the receipt and leaves the copy with her phone number on the table. “Why not? Because you’re afraid? You’ve been talking like a guy who isn’t afraid,” he taunts.
I grab my beer and take a long chug. Just thinking about what she told me earlier today makes me hard. It reminds me why we’re here, a couple hours into dinner and half a dozen beers deep. “She’s a virgin.”
He’s not drinking anything, but he chokes, probably on his spit, just like I did. “Shut the fuck up,” he hisses. “No, she’s not.”
I nod my head. “She told me so herself. Just this afternoon.”
He’s a good puzzle man, so he puts together all the pieces of the afternoon like it’s child’s play. “That’s why we’re here,” Saint finally sighs. “She can’t be a virgin, Holy. There’s no way a girl that comes on that strong hasn’t been fucked before,” he insists, but I can see his resolve waning.
“She wants it, though,” I go on. “She wants it bad. And from me.” I hate to sound like a cocky bastard, but I know what she told me. I saw the way she looked at me. She was a bitch in heat, and she wanted me to give her what she deserved.
Saint drums his fingers on the table; his eyebrows knit together in confusion. No matter how many ways he slices it, he can’t seem to process that Danielle might be telling the truth. “I don’t get it. You said she was this sexy, gorgeous thing that was hitting on you left and right.”
I nod along with him.
“But she’s a virgin.” The frown deepens. “Do you know how rare that is?” Saint shakes his no. “No, not even just that. Do you know how fuckinghotthat is?”
I raise my beer bottle to him in mock cheers. “Now you know why we’re here.” After Danielle admitted that she’d never been with anyone and she wanted me to be the one to take her flower, I couldn’t go home. If I went home, I’d have been alone. If I were alone, I would have talked myself into going to her house and fucking her in the room down the hall from her dad.
Instead, I made a beeline for Aggieville. I barreled through the doors of Drafthouse and planted my ass at the bar. I’d already called Saint, who showed up a few minutes later. I was already getting properly wasted, at four in the afternoon, no less, but it’s what I had to do. The alternative was a surefire way to wind up behind bars.
“Alright, do it.” Saint looks up from the table with a serious expression on his face. “If you want, anyway.”
Oh, I want. I wantbadly. More than Saint or God or anyone could ever know. “I’m afraid I’m going to get in her tight little snatch and blow my load like a two-pump chump.”
Saint snorts with laughter. “Maybe that’ll teach you to stop chasing eighteen-year-olds. You gotta get thatagedpussy,” he grins. “Those thirty-year-olds know what they’re doing. They tighten their kegels around your dick and milk you dry without even moving. Just last week, I had this girl on top that swore if I came inside her, she was going to slap the shit out of me.”
“What’d you do?” Saint is into some kinky shit, but sometimes his stories are entertaining.
“I came inside her,” he scoffs. “Then she slapped me.” Saint finishes the last of his beer. “But I flipped her on her stomach after that and came in her ass next. Made her leave without panties and with my cum dripping out of all her holes.”
Jesus. That’s kind of hot. Sometimes I think that Saint knows better than all of us. He’s the one that’s getting laid regularly, and he’s having the time of his life. “Danielle probably isn’t like that,” I murmur after a few moments.
Saint shakes his head. “Nope, she probably isn’t. She’s avirgin,” he emphasizes for good measure.
“A virgin,” I repeat. But suddenly, I don’t need all the thrills of a girl that’ll let me put it in her ass. I just need Danielle Fulton. My body aches for her. And not just to stick her with my dick and pop her cherry, but to be with her. There’s more to Danielle than a hot body and an unplucked flower; I just have to take the time to peel back her petals.
12
