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First meeting on Tuesday afternoon. Four o’clock sharp. Wiltshire Hotel downtown. A key will be waiting at the front desk under the name Abby Mitchel.
That’s all it takes for nausea to roll around in the pit of my gut. Any moment, I’ll be sick.
If my predicament didn’t feel real before, it certainly does now.
My hand rises to rub my chest through the thick fabric of my winter jacket. I quickly unzip and toss it over the back of the dining room chair before beelining to my room. On the way, I notice that my cousin’s door is closed. Since the place is quiet, I had assumed she was out.
Mental exhaustion takes hold as I sink to the mattress and stare at the text until it swims before my eyes. My mouth turns cottony as I focus on what will happen in less than four days.
Will this guy just take me, and it’ll be over with quickly?
I squeeze my eyes tightly closed, praying that’s the case. What I don’t need is for this to drag out. I don’t want to think about him running his hands over my naked flesh, touching me in places no one ever has.
Why do we have to meet three separate times?
The dude can only take my virginity once.
It occurs to me that not only will there be pain, or, at the very least, discomfort, but there could also be blood.
Blood!
A shudder scuttles down my spine. That’s all it takes for bile to rise in my throat as another text from Chloe pops up on the screen.
Make sure you take care of birth control.
For the second time in a matter of minutes, the reality of my situation slams into me with the force of a two-by-four.
I’ve been on the pill since arriving at Western. Even though I wasn’t in a hurry to do anything, it felt important to have that part of the equation taken care of in case something unforeseen happened. Before the accident, my parents had the rule that I wasn’t allowed to date until I was sixteen years old. Afterward, they refused to let me out of their sight long enough to do anything or go anywhere. And since then, there’s been a few guys here and there, but not many.
I force out a slow breath and try to steady everything that riots painfully inside me.
Maybe this situation is for the best.
I can get my first time over with.
No fuss. No muss.
And it won’t be with someone from the university. The guy won’t be lurking around every corner of campus or turning up in my classes.
Can you say awkward?
I’m yanked from those thoughts when a soft moan fills the air. My brows slam together as I tilt my head and listen more intently. When it happens for a second time, my eyes widen, and my jaw crashes open. Even though I’ve never heard that particular sound come from her room before, I’m pretty sure?—
The bedframe knocks into the wall as a masculine grunt follows.
Holy crap, Madden and Viola are having sex.
I clap a hand over my mouth before reluctantly glancing toward my cousin’s room as the noise continues to pick up. All we need is some cringey seventies music to go along with the porno soundtrack that’s intensifying by the second.
It’s obvious that Vi doesn’t realize I’ve returned home from the interview.
They’re both adults. And since Madden sleeps over most nights, I assumed they were, um, having relations. On more than one occasion, Vi has stumbled out of her room in the morning after Madden takes off for practice, looking bleary eyed, like she’s barely gotten a wink of sleep.
Have I teased her mercilessly about it?
Damn right I have.
What kind of cousin would I be if I didn’t?
