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Liam’s hands dance downward, leaving my hips and hooking under the hem of the shirt I’m wearing. He saw me in my underwear earlier, but something about the idea of him being able to touch me so intimately fogs my brain and stirs a newfound need in my core.
As he lifts the fabric achingly slowly, I try not to show my impatience. The moment it’s bunched around my waist, he pulls my underwear down and tosses them onto the bed next to me. My stomach jumps in anticipation. I expect him to rushto get to the goal post. However, the moment his eyes meet mine, I feel a breath catch in my throat. He seems almost as nervous as I am, but probably not for the same reasons.
“Hannah—”
I don’t know what he is about to say and I’m not sure I want to know, so I do the only thing I can think to do: I lean up and kiss him. Liam’s lips are soft against my own, but I feel the moment he melts into me, his movements far more frantic than before.
He reaches down and, as his fingers wrap around my inner thigh, my breath hitches. Liam grips my flesh as he pulls me to the edge of the bed, but I don’t miss the way his hands shake. His eyes lock on mine as he pulls down his swim trunks. When his erection springs free, a lump forms in my throat—I genuinely don’t know how that is supposed to fit inside me.
Reaching into the drawer in the bedside table, Liam pulls out a little gold foil packet that I assume is a condom. He fumbles with the packaging as he rips it open, the trembling in his hand way more noticeable as he tries to get the condom free. When he finally gets it open, he surprisingly doesn’t struggle with rolling it on.
I’ve known a lot of sides to Liam; he’s been an asshole, but he’s also been a friend. Growing up together, I’ve seen him through a variety of iterations of the boy and now man. However, the way he’s looking at me right now is new. The deep brown eyes staring down at me—the unsure boy behind the man—has me melting, because despite the fumbling and nervous energy, I feel safe.
Liam lines himself up before pushing inside me. He eases in, but there is no level of attention or taking it slow that could ease the discomfort of being stretched so thoroughly for thefirst time. It takes a little while for him to be fully inside of me, but the moment he’s buried to the hilt, he pauses. At first, I think it is to help me acclimate, but judging by the pained look on his face, I don’t think that’s the case.
His eyes meet mine as he takes a deep breath and starts to move, but he doesn’t break eye contact as he does so. It feels weirdly intimate, but I can’t seem to look away.
This continues for maybe another minute before he tenses, and I’m unsure why until, with a telltale grunt, I feel him twitch inside of me. He stays inside me for a minute, catching his breath, before he pulls out and walks to the trash can.
When you’re told what losing your virginity will be like, you sometimes assume that it will be this insanely cosmic event. As girls, we’re told our entire lives that our virginity is this huge gift, and once you’ve given it, your value depletes, so you have to choose who you give it to carefully. I’ve never bought into the idea that sex is for marriage exclusively; I’m not particularly religious. However, you only get one time to lose your virginity…even if it’s not the earth-shattering, planets-aligning moment we’re told it will be.
I’m glad it was with Liam.
Morning comes in a misty haze, flowing through the window in a serene cast over the room. The sun doesn’t flow into my room like it does Liam’s in the morning. Being on the other side of the house, my room is much more susceptible to afternoon sun and sunsets in the evening. I roll over to find a sleeping Liam, the scent of his cologne on the sheets that I didn’t notice last night satiating me almost instantly. The faintsmell of citrus and musk invades my senses in the most calming blanket I’ve ever experienced.
His alarm starts going off, jerking me from my sleepy haze.
I expect him to roll over and cuddle me, kiss me good morning, or at the very least acknowledge last night, but he doesn’t do any of that.
“You should probably get out of here before Jackson sees you.” He doesn’t even look at me, just focuses on his phone in his hand, the alarm long since shut off.
I don’t know how to respond. The thought of just running back to my room after what transpired has me on the verge of tears, but I try to keep it at bay.
“Can we talk about what happened last night?” I ask quietly, so quietly that I wonder if he even hears me.
A pregnant pause follows before Liam says anything, causing my calm to transform into a ball of anxiety. I’m on the brink of tears as he looks at me.
“Oh my God, Hannah. It’s not a big deal. You don’t have to be dramatic. People hook up—don’t read into it.”
Of all the things I expect to come out of his mouth, I never thought he would be so cold. We argue, sure, but it’s never beenmean. We bicker—I mean, we’ve known each other since we were babies—but this feels far crueler than anything he’s ever said to me.
“Of course.” My voice cracks as I stand up and pull my shirt from last night over my head. “Wouldn’t want to be dramatic over something so…inconsequential.”
He doesn’t say anything; he’s not even looking at me anymore. Liam just stares down at his phone, playing some mobile RPG game. How he can be so nonchalant, I’ll never know.
I click the door behind me, thankful that it’s hours before Jackson will be awake.
As the tears I’ve been holding back fall from my waterline, I make the decision: I refuse to let that happen ever again. Not only will he never touch me like that again, but I also don’t think I want to even be around him anymore. Any friendship we used to share is dead now.
Liam Stephen Park can rot in hell.
THIRTY-FOUR
PRESENT DAY
LIAM
My eyes widen and my jaw drops as I look down at her, the minimal light coming from outside just enough to make out the worry in her expression. It’s a strange mix of fear and anticipation, like she’s bracing for my reaction. However, nothing but guilt washes over me at the revelation of what happened all those years ago.
