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My shoulders sag, and despite my better judgment, I give him the cold hard truth. “I was sick of contemplating if I was broken, so I was distracting myself with reruns of Grey’s Anatomy.”
There’s a short pause before his voice comes back, only it’s much softer. “Why the fuck would you be broken?”
“Because . . .” I pause, a heaviness weighing down on me. “You saw those wristbands. I was a twenty-two-year-old virgin up until last week, and it’s not for lack of trying. I’m just not . . . I don’t know. Brave enough, I guess.”
“The fuck are you talking about?”
I feel the blood rush to my cheeks, humiliation washing through me, but at the same time, I feel as though this is the most honest conversation I’ve ever had. Despite Izaac being drunk, I know I’m not being judged. “I’ve been presented with plenty of opportunities to rectify that particular . . . virgin issue, and every time, I chicken out. Then Friday night comes along, and I walk into a pitch-black room, and without a second thought, I let some perfect stranger do whatever the fuck he wanted to me.”
“And?” he prompts.
“And what?” I ask. “It was incredible. One sexual experience, and I’m ruined for any other man. Nothing will ever compare to what he did to me. No amount of toys, fingers, or imagination has ever come close, and now I’m frustrated because there’s an itch that only one person can scratch, and I don’t even know who he is.”
Izaac scoffs, but I hear the grin in his tone. “That good, huh?”
“Mm-hmm,” I murmur.
“So what are you gonna do about it?”
I shrug my shoulders, despite knowing he can’t see me. “I don’t know. The best plan I’ve got is to screw my way through campus and see if anyone can even come close, and then I suppose I’ll have to settle for that guy while always knowing he’ll be second best.”
“You’re gonna do what?” he blurts out in horror.
“You heard me,” I say. “I’m meeting up with some Tinder guy tomorrow. I guess I’m officially entering my whore era. Austin will be so proud.”
“You’re fucking with me, right?”
“What’s it to you? I’ve gone out with plenty of guys before, and you’ve never cared about them.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve never declared that you were about to fuck them all,” he mutters, anger lacing his deep tone.
“So?” I throw back. “Up until now, you probably assumed that I did anyway.”
“But up until now, I didn’t know how you sounded when you came.”
Holy fuck.
My heart lurches out of my chest, racing a million miles per hour. “Fuck, Izaac,” I groan, closing my eyes as I brace my elbows on my knees. “You can’t say shit like that to me. You’re gonna have to start blocking my number before you go out drinking.”
A thick silence follows, just long enough for me to wonder if maybe he fell asleep. Finally, I hear his low tone. “You’re really gonna fuck this guy?”
“I don’t know,” I say truthfully. “We’re going out to eat, but if it feels right, then maybe. But honestly, what’s the point? He’ll never live up to—” I cut myself off, my eyes widening with horror, realizing what I was about to say.He’ll never live up to you.
“He’ll never live up to what?” Izaac prompts.
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Aspen, I—”
“Don’t,” I whisper. “If you’re about to say something you know you’re going to regret tomorrow, then just don’t say anything at all.”
“But—”
“No. You’re the one who’s gone out of his way to make sure that I know nothing will ever happen here, but this past week, it’s as though you’re determined to fuck with every line you’ve ever drawn between us. I can’t do this. You’re fucking with my head. You don’t want me, Izaac. Not how I’ve always wanted you, so just . . . stop. Please.”
I’m met with that same silence again, only this time, I can hear him take a deep breath. “You’re right,” he finally says. “It’s not my intention to fuck with your feelings like that. I just . . . I think over the weekend I realized that maybe I didn’t know you as well as I thought I did. You’re not the same girl I remember.”
“I’m not a girl at all,” I agree. “I’m a grown woman.”
