“You’re so fucking sexy,” Paul continued to purr, as he groped and pulled at my bare breasts like they were his personal play toys. “Fuck me, I can’t wait to ram my dick inside ya,” he added gruffly, trailing his tongue up my neck. “I’m going to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to walk straight for a week afterwards.”
Wow.
The words every virgin wanted to hear.
His hands moved to the elastic waistband of my thong, and I clamped up. “Wait.”
“No,” he groaned, burying his face between my breasts. “No, no, no, don’t say wait.”
“Wait,” I repeated, chest heaving, as I slapped his hand away from my knickers. “Wait.”
“It’s been three and a half years, Aoif,” he whined, pressing sloppy, wet kisses to my neck. “Four in February. Haven’t I earned your v-card by now?”
V-card?
“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to do this here.”
“Shh, it’s fine, here is perfect. It’s New Year’s Eve. Very romantic.”
“It’s not happening, Paul,” I argued, slapping against his chest, in my bid to get the big, drunk bastard off me. “Now get off me.”
“For fuck’s sake, Aoife,” he snapped, rolling off me and onto his back. “This is bullshit. How is it that I’m the only fella in our year with a long-term girlfriend and still the only fella not fucking getting any.”
“I’m not there yet,” I explained, sliding to the edge of the bed. “I’m not ready to have sex with you, and I’m not about to be pressured into having sex with you at a shitty New Year’s Eve party, either,” I bit out, reaching for my bra on the bedroom floor.
“Then at least suck me off.”
I glared at him palming his cock. “Put that thing near my face, and I’ll bite it off you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
“You’re such a bitch.”
“If you can’t be patient and wait until I am ready, then that’s on you, not me.”
“Well, what if I can’t?” He sat up and glared at me. “What if I’m tired of waiting for you to pry open those Virgin Mary legs?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Then we have nothing left to say to each other.”
“Fine, then fuck off and find some other misfortunate bastard to walk you home tonight,” he snapped, throwing the covers off himself and jerking to his feet. “Because I don’t even want to look at you right now."
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” I strangled out, feeling weirdly emotional at his cold rejection. “I told you that I’m just not ready for sex, okay?”
"And I told you that I don’t want to look at ya," he sneered, as he yanked on his boxers. "So, you can fuck me, or you can leave.”
The words were no sooner out of my mouth when the bedroom door flew inwards.
“Not here,” Danielle purred, as she pulled at the buckle of a shirtless Joey’s belt. “Let’s go in my room instead.”
Pain.
It ricocheted through me like a knife.
Clearly high on whatever concoction he’d taken after I left him earlier, Joey swayed against her, eyes bleary and unfocused, as he reached for her waist and pulled her towards him. “Here’s grand.”
Ouch.
It hurt.
It hurt so bad that I had to suck in a sharp breath to catch my breath.
“Oh, sorry guys,” Danielle squeaked, when she noticed our presence. “We were just…” Her voice trailed off as her cheeks reddened. “Well, um, you know…”
“It’s fine.” Swallowing down the bile in my throat, I quickly turned my back to the door as I slipped on my bra and shrugged on my jeans. “We were just leaving.”
“See? They’re fucking, and I can guarantee that he didn’t have to spend three years convincing her either,” Paul spat, roughly throwing my t-shirt across the room at me. “Come on, Aoife, this is what lads my age are supposed to be doing.”
“Then I mean it both figuratively and literally when I tell you to go fuck yourself, Paul,” I hissed as I quickly pulled my t-shirt back on, feeling the stinging threat of tears in my eyes.
“Fuck you,” Paul sneered. “Enjoy the walk home in the dark on your own. I hope there aren’t any weirdos lurking in the bushes.”
“You can have the room, Danielle. I was just leaving,” I choked out, face burning, as I slipped my feet into my ballerina pumps and moved for the door, which just so happened to be blocked by Joey, who was slumping against the doorframe.
Great.
This was just epic.
His eyes landed on my face, and I swear I saw a flicker of recognition pass through them before he shook his head and turned away from me.
“Is he okay?” I asked, slipping past his tall frame.
“He’s fine,” Danielle assured me, as she slung his arm over her shoulder and led him down the hall to her bedroom. ”Happy new year!”
SPECIAL_IMAGE-images/svgimg0003.svg-REPLACE_ME
Whatever happened between Joey and Danielle in her bedroom had clearly been exactly what she wanted, because when she came back downstairs afterwards, she was so happy with herself that she was practically floating.
Disgusted with myself for the abnormal level of jealousy I had steered towards a girl who had never done anything to me, I tried to pull myself out of my dark mood, but the truth was that I just couldn’t.
Numb to the bone, not to mention well and truly sober now, I sat on the couch in her sitting room, and watched as the crowd slowly dwindled, until there were only a handful of us left.
I should have gone home hours ago, but I couldn’t seem to get my feet to walk out the front door. Not when he was still upstairs, completely fucking out of it.
I knew it should be Paul I was thinking about, upstairs and alone in the room I’d abandoned him in, but it wasn’t.
It was Joey.
I liked that he was a little fucked up.
I adored his sharp edges, and I loved his broken pieces.
I liked him even though I knew he’d just given my classmate everything Paul had tried to give me.
What did that say about me?
I just fucking liked him.
So much that it hurt the skin covering my chest.
Jesus.
Unable to stick the not knowing a second longer, I sprang to my feet and bolted for the staircase, catching a glimpse of Danielle in the doorway of the kitchen as I went.
Stay put.
Stay put.
Stay put.
Rounding the banister, I hurried past the room I’d shared with Paul a few hours ago and went straight for the door at the end of the hall.
It was cracked open, so when I slipped inside, I didn’t make a sound.
“Joey?” I whispered into the darkness, as I felt my way over to the bed. Finding a lamp on the locker, I flicked it on, bathing the room in a soft yellow hue. “Joe?”
“Molloy,” he groaned, twisting his face into the mattress.
My heart both cracked and soared at the sound.
Soared because even in his worst state, he knew my voice.
Cracked because he was naked in another girl’s bed, with a used condom strewn on the bedroom floor.