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‘I know you’re expecting something magical to happen.’ She holds up a small mirror and contours her nose. ‘But the first time is the worst. It’s overrated. You don’t know what to do and you’re all nervous and weird, and it hurts. And there’s blood, so make sure you have a towel underneath you. And most of the time, it happens unexpectedly.’
‘What was it like for you?’
‘Gross. I wish it never happened. Basically, last year I was at this house party and there was this guy and me being naïve and stupid, I went with him for a fag even though I didn’t smoke. It was super loud in the garden, so we went for a walk through these trees and he just started kissing me. His breath was disgusting, and he kept putting his tongue in my mouth.’ She pretends to gag. ‘But I really wanted to lose my virginity. He just lifted up my skirt, pulled my panties aside, and fucked me. I had dog shit all over my back.’
When Demi returns, I’m crying with laughter.
God, I forgot how much I missed her sex stories.
‘But Archer,’ Cassie continues. ‘He isn’t loving, Frankie. He’s rough, and unapologetic, and he’ll fuck you like he hates you. It’s great, but if you want something more, you won’t find it with him.’
‘I swear, if you say another word about my brother, I’ll leave and take this wine with me,’ Demi warns.
We drink and laugh and Cassie shares more of her sex life. My mind wanders. I can’t stop thinking about what Cassie said. Am I chasing a faraway dream in pursuing Archer? And if he doesn’t do relationships, then everything he’s said about wanting to know me is all for show. He just wants to sleep with me.
I should be flattered. Archer Toban wants to have sex with me! But I’m offended. What have I done to ever make him think I want to have sex with him? Before this week, I’d barely spoken to him. I don’t even like him. I’m not even sure how we got to this point. It’s like we skipped the friendship part and jumped straight to the lust. We went from hating each other to this, and in doing so, I’ve never asked myself whatIwant.
Do I want to sleep with Archer? Yes. But do I also want something more meaningful, something more than a one-night stand? Also yes.
‘We should give ourselves tattoos!’ Demi exclaims suddenly.
‘Give ourselves?’ I repeat.
‘Yes!’ She beelines for a drawer and produces a black box. ‘I bought this ages ago on a whim, but I’ve never had an excuse to use it.’
‘What is it?’ Cassie asks.
We’re sitting on the floor; Demi places the box in the middle and opens it.
‘Stick and poke tattoo kit,’ she says cheerfully. She snaps open a sachet and plucks a needle from it. And then she slaps on gloves, pours ink into the bottle lid, and looks at me. ‘What do you want?’
‘I’m literally just watching you. No need to get so defensive.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘What tattoo do you want, smartass?’
Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe I’m just giddy to have such fun, daring friends. But a tattoo sounds like a great idea. I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but I wasn’t sure what to get. I always thought they had to mean something, but now I realise you can get whatever the hell you want.
‘A bee,’ I say at last.
I love bees.
I barely feel the sting of the needle against my wrist. For a wild moment I’m worried she doesn’t actually know how to draw and I’m going to end up with just a circle and eyes, but she’s surprisingly apt.
When she’s done, I run my fingers over it. It looks a bit smiley, and some of the lines aren’t straight, but it’s good enough. As Demi tattoos a barbed chain around Cassie’s wrist, I smile to myself.
Some changes are scary. Dyeing my hair was scary, but I love it. Getting this tattoo was scary, but I can’t stop staring at it. They were both bold moves, but they turned out to be exactly what I wanted. And some things, I think, need to change before you decide if they’re right for you.
If you don’t jump, you’ll never know if you’ll grow wings.
God. I’m so drunk.
Chapter Eight
I Want to Kiss You
By the time we stumble downstairs, the party is in full swing.
Music blares from various surround sound speakers, and the bass drums into my feet. There’re people everywhere, and I find myself saying hi to students I’ve never talked to before. I stop at the bottom of the stairs and gush to a girl about her steampunk boots, and I remind her at least seven times how wonderful she looks until someone cranks up the music and I can’t hear a word she says.
