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I push off the kitchen bench and follow him.
“Why are you having a shower so late at night?” I ask.
“I was busy.”
“Busy? With what?”
“With stuff,” he replies as we enter his room. “Did you enjoy the party?”
“Yeah,” I say, and my smile is real. “I’m really grateful I got to go.”
“Grateful?” Lucas sits on his bed and doesn’t complain when I get on it too. Frankly, I’m a little surprised he hasn’t kicked me out of his room yet.
“I haven’t been to many birthday parties,” I admit with a self-deprecating laugh. “I feel really lucky I’ve made friends at uni. Hugo’s the sweetest. And Gilly’s…”
“Gilly,” Lucas says with a touch of exasperation that makes me grin.
“Yeah. But they’re both important to me. When you only have a few friends, you appreciate them ten times as much.”
“I get that,” he says.
Does he, though? Ever since high school, he’s been surrounded by friends, acquaintances and admirers. I figured they were all disposable to him. I certainly was.
“Anyway,” I continue, “it sounds childish to say, but I hope I stay friends with them for a long time. It’s rare to find people who like me the way I am.”
Lucas’s expression flickers, then he nods his head in the direction of my bedroom. “Cleo asleep?”
Oh yeah. Cleo.
“Yeah,” I answer.
Lucas frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Nothing really. Just…”
His frown deepens. “Charlie.”
I flop backwards so I’m lying on his bed and rub my face. “Well…I’m no longer a virgin. So.”
Lucas doesn’t say anything for a long time. When I remove my hands from my face, I see he’s looking at the opposite wall, his mouth a thin line.
“Lucas?”
He looks at me. I might be going crazy, but I swear his eyes soften. “You don’t look happy about it,” he says.
“No, it’s not that. I don’t regret it. Or maybe I do, I don’t know. I just…I feel weird.”
“How do you feel weird?”
“Mm.” I drag a finger over Lucas’s bedding. “Because I feel shocked. Or disappointed, that would be a more accurate term. But if I say I’m disappointed, that sounds like I’m insulting Cleo. Not that she did anything wrong. It’s more that…sex is overrated. In the movies and in books, people make it out to be this incredible thing, but in reality, it was…stressful.”
I draw patterns onto the duvet as I relive what happened.
Firstly, I had to take my clothes off and hope that Cleo would think my naked body didn’t look weird. I don’t have abs, I know my limbs are weirdly skinny, and I didn’t know whether I’d trimmed enough down there. Also — was my penis big enough? Was it a weird colour? Did my balls look weird?
Then, after we touched each other and Cleo said she was ready, I had to stick my dick in. So, I did. But then, sometimes when we moved around or I thrusted in a certain way, it’d fall out, so I’d have to stick it back in. Every time I had to stick it in, I felt like I was cutting the red wire to defuse a bomb, which sounds dramatic, but that’s truly how I felt.
Anyway, as we did it, Cleo would look into my eyes, but that freaked me out, so I’d look away, but then I’d worry that was rude, so I’d force myself to meet her eyes. But sometimes she closed her eyes and I couldn’t help but wonder whether that meant she was thinking about it ending or thinking about being anywhere other than my squeaky bed.
