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All true.
I don’t think I’ve had to lie yet.
What are the chances that I won’t have to? That he’s forgotten about the whole condom incident and will now fall on me like a desperate, horny animal.
“That still doesn’t explain the no condoms thing,” he says, his eyes clear and alert.
Damn it.
Why’s he so hung up on that?
I thought guys liked that. I thought convincing him to do it with me would be the hard part, not how it should happen.
But okay.
It’s fine.
I can handle this.
I keep my eyes connected to his and try to keep my features neutral as I say, “I guess I was being hasty in that. In my defense, I just got caught up in the moment. And I apologize. No protection is a big deal in any situation, but if you add that to our history, it becomes an even bigger deal.”
So far. So true.
“Meaning we should’ve talked about it. But since we didn’t before, let’s do it now.” I clear my throat again. “Are you, uh, clean?”
Don’t look away.
Do not look away from him.
Not only because I want to appear sophisticated, a girl capable of discussing these things — and I am by the way; it’s just him who throws me — but also because I need to keep my feelings away from his.
This is business.
This is about me un-breaking my heart and getting my life back.
There is no place for emotions here. Especially emotions like jealousy.
I’m pretty sure while I was heartbroken and crying away for him these last thirteen months, he was having his fun. Yes, I know that he was remorseful for what he did but I also know that he’s a guy. A very popular guy, a pro-soccer player that girls go crazy for. And there’s no reason for him to have passed up opportunities that I’m sure he must’ve come across.
Actually, even when I wasn’t heartbroken and crying away for him but rather running after him, he must’ve slept around.
Something that hadn’t occurred to me until after the whole dorm room incident.
Mostly because I’d never seen him with a girl, in those two years. The only time I did see him with one was the night he used her as bait to draw me out from behind the bushes. But other than that, I never saw him paying attention to one, even though he’d get lots of attention from them.
In any case, that’s not the point here.
The point is that I need to know if he’s clean — I know he is — and if I can convince him to forgo protection.
Because if I can’t, then there goes my whole closure/revenge/punishment plan.
“Clean,” he repeats, as if he can’t believe I’m asking him that.
“Yes.” I swallow. “Are you?”
“Yeah,” he replies, his voice all quiet and low.
See?
I knew it.
Because I know how he is.
He’s a fiend when it comes to his body and his health. He always has been. The guy works out like three times a day or something. He would never take unnecessary risks when it comes to the body that he’s worked so hard to build. Although I have to say that it still doesn’t give me any idea about whether or not he slept with girls over the past few years.
And you don’t want to know either, remember?
Focus, Tempest.
“Okay. Good.” I nod. Then, putting a hand on my chest, I say, “I’m clean too. And —”
“Is that so?”
I frown. “What, you think I’m lying?”
“No, I definitely don’t think you’re lying.”
“So then —”
“But I also don’t think you’ve ever gotten dirty.”
“What’s —”
“Which you need to do in order to be clean.” Then, “You know that, don’t you?”
I study his both watchful and arrogant gaze.
As if he knows everything about me.
As if just by looking at me he can tell the state of my virginity.
That’s what he’s talking about, isn’t he?
The jerk.
“Yes, I do. And I am. Clean, I mean. After I’ve gotten dirty.”
It’s such a childish way to put it. But he started it.
His eyes flash. “You have, have you?”
“Yes.” I raise my chin. “Multiple times. With multiple guys.” Then, just because I can’t stop myself, “And they all had huge dicks. Massive dicks. Extraterrestrial dicks. Dicks that were out of this world. Dicks that made me see —”
“You’ve seen a dick,” he goes, his jaw moving back and forth in anger.
Good.
How dare he?
“Yes. Lots of them.”
“Where?” I open my mouth to answer but he doesn’t let me. “And a porno doesn’t count.”
“I wasn’t going to —”
“Or a flowery description of a man’s appendage in your romance novels.”
“You —”
“Not to mention, when did you see one?” he keeps going, his voice lashing. “When apparently you’ve been hung up on me for the past thirteen months.”
I glare at him. “You’re such an asshole.”
“Better than being a liar, huh.”
I come up on my knees. “I’m not —”
