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“Why in the hell are you making me feel bad about it?” I yelled back, pulling myself up into a sitting position on his bed. “You act as if I just told you I was a leper instead of a virgin.”
He raked his hands through his thick head of hair, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I will tell you this: a leper would have a much better chance of me burying my cock inside of her than a virgin,” he spat. “Get dressed. I’m taking you home, Lindsey.”
CHAPTER 8
It had been three weeks since cruising the “Ride of Shame” back home after the botched fuck-session with Taz. He had been furious with me for not divulging up front that I had never had my “V-card swiped” as he so eloquently phrased it.
I had been just as furious with him for his boorish treatment of me once I had shared the information with him. He said he had a strict policy where virgins were concerned: he didn’t do them.
Slate had still been up when I got home. He had seen Taz’s car back out of the driveway as I had hurried up the driveway wanting to put as much distance between me and the asshole as possible.
“Is Mom asleep?” I asked once inside the house.
“Yep,” he said, quirking his brow at me. “Can I ask why you left with Darcy and Taz ended up bringing you home?”
“Oh, well Darcy and I were at Dazzle and she is over twenty-one, so of course, she can legally drink. She drank a bit too much. I didn’t think she should drive under those circumstances. I remembered that Taz had given me his cell phone number when you and Mom went on your honeymoon, you know, just in case I needed anything while you were gone? So, I called him to give us a ride and he was happy to do it.”
That wasn’t so tough now was it?
“Lindsey,” Slate said, studying my face, “you do realize what it is I do for a living, right?”
“Excuse me?”
“If you think for one second I believe a word of what just came out of your mouth, then you must take me for an idiot. I’m insulted, darlin’. I would have much preferred you simply telling me that it was none of my business.”
“Slate?”
“Yep.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Fair enough, Lindsey.”
I had retreated up to my room and cried into my pillows for most of the night. I had slept late the following day avoiding Mom as much as possible. Friday night was pretty much of a repeat.
I decided to head back to Charlottesville a day earlier than planned. I told Mom I needed to study for upcoming finals.
The truth was I was sick of crying. Being around Slate reminded me of Taz. Slate could tell I had been crying. I don’t know how he knew, but he knew. He gave me a hug before I left, telling me to drive carefully and that they would see me in a few weeks.
I had wondered if Slate was going to say anything to my mother about it. I was fairly certain that he hadn’t. My mother was not the type to hear something like that and not pummel me with questions about it. Slate was cool.
I had shared it with both Jill and Darcy after I returned to school. Jill was horrified; Darcy thought it was a hoot.
“You know, Linds, you may want to consider paying a doctor to remove that thing. I am beginning to think hymens are over-rated these days. You don’t seem to be able to lose yours on a bet.”
“Ha ha, Darcy,” I said, giving her a hateful look. “Do you know how humiliated I was?”
“I can only imagine,” Jill said, putting her arm around me and giving me a squeeze. “Lay off of her, Darcy. That was entirely insensitive for Taz or Spaz-- whatever the fuck his name is to behave like that to Lindsey.”
“Hey,” Darcy replied, “she really should have said something to him. Not every dude is comfortable with the task of deflowering a virgin. It is a big responsibility, you know?”
“How do you figure?”
“A woman never forgets her first time. If it is not good, or extremely painful and proper precautions are not put into place beforehand, it can be traumatic for both parties. I’m sorry; I agree with Taz on this. She should have ‘fessed up.”
“Whatever, Darce,” Jill replied, heading out the door to meet Gabe, “I’ll bring you back some Haagen-Dazs, Lindsey.”
