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“I’m sorry,” Hudson apologises when I don’t reply. “I must sound like a dick.”
“No, it’s fine,”
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Yes, I’ll probably be too busy later on anyway.” If ever there was a lie, in the history of lies, this was it.
“I wish I could be there,” he says.
I sigh. “Me too.”
“Bye,” he says. “I’ll message you when I’m free.”
“Bye.”
The call goes dead and I stare at my clothes longer than I realise. Of course, I am slightly hurt, but he isn’t my boyfriend. I shouldn’t have had set high expectations already.
Taking a deep breath, I decide that I won’t go to any of my classes today, because I feel like it. One day of the year couldn’t possibly hurt.
Before I shower, I gather up the sheets from the night before. A reminder of my virginity is all over the bedding, marked with my blood. I finally did it and I feel sexy as hell.
Once I place the sheets into the washer, I have a hot shower and even rinse my hair, running my fingers through the knots as the water cascades over my body.
When I get out, I quickly pat my skin dry and pull on a clean set of bra and panties before dressing into an oversized beige hoodie with a pair of grey sweats.
After I’m fully clothed, I blow-dry my hair until it settles on my shoulders in its golden sheen.
And then I’m done. Taking my Macbook, I head over to the small kitchen and attempt to make Ravioli from scratch for the next hour and a half, while I read over the first few draft paragraphs of my essay for The Picture Of Dorian Gray.
I mix the flour and salt before adding in the eggs which I knead together with my hands. And then I have to add in the olive oil before kneading it again for another five minutes.
I push the bowl aside when the pasta is done and move on to the spinach and cream cheese filling which is easier than I thought.
The dark leaves have cooked down into a saucepan full of sad-looking spinach until I add the cream cheese in which immediately makes it look a lot more appetizing.
I’m rolling the pasta out into paper-thin sheets with a rolling pin and listening toI’ve got you under my skinby Frank Sinatra when the apartment door opens and Lex waltzes in.
She sheepishly smiles as she walks towards me and without saying anything she hugs me, before smacking a huge kiss on my cheek.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “For being a total bitch last night.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her as I lean over and kiss her forehead. “We all have our moments.”
She releases me and takes a seat on the barstool as I continue to cut out bite-sized squares from the pasta sheets.
“Where did you disappear to anyway?” she asks. “I tried looking for you a while later and couldn’t find you.”
“I ran into Ryan, but thankfully Hudson came to my rescue.” My face grows hot as Lex stares at me with her mouth agape. “And then we came back here.”
“What?!” She jumps up from her seat and slams her palms on the countertop. “What did you guys do?”
My entire body is burning now and I find myself smiling. “We did it.”
“You had sex?!” Her excitement is very clear as she claps her hands together. “What was it like? Was he big?”
I choke out a laugh. “Oh my God, do you seriously need to know every detail?”
“Yes,” she says, sitting back down. “Details are essential!”
