Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 85267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
How fucking dare she bring up masturbating?
“Care to expound on that?” I ask, once I can breathe again.
“No.” I can see her cheeky grin in the dark, white teeth shining under the dim porch light. “No I do not.”
“Then why did you bring it up?”
“Oh relax, it’s not like I gave you any of the dirty details, like how many fingers I use—or don’t use.”
“What?”
“You should see the look on your face.”
I lean back and huff out a sigh. “Whatever. I’m sure it looks like the one you gave me when I said the V word.”
“Virgin. When you said you were a VIRGIN.” Jesus Christ, she’s practically shouting it. “There it is again.” She laughs, pointing at my face until I swat her finger away with my hand, clamping my fist around her index. Place it back on her lap and cover her palm with the flat of mine.
“Could you not?”
“Pfft. It’s not like anyone would believe me anyway. Jackson Jennings Junior, a virgin? As if.” She doesn’t try to move away or withdraw her hand. “Besides, no one is paying any attention—I could shout it from the rooftops and not a single person would look up.”
She’s got a valid point; the students around here are so fucking full of themselves, their social media feeds, and their own business that they probably wouldn’t notice some girl screaming at the top of her lungs on the top deck of a house.
They’d film it on their phone, though, thinking she was going to jump.
Sick.
“Still, if you could keep your voice down, that would be great.”
“You’re not embarrassed, are you?”
I wasn’t, no—not until I brought it up. It’s the one secret I have, if you don’t count how shitty my life was growing up with two parents who resented each other. A mother who resented me, a father who only cared about winning.
And the fact that I’m in Iowa and not at Clemson or Alabama or Notre Dame? He hates it, but choosing Iowa was the one thing I had control over. I felt comfortable here during the campus visits and clicked with the team members I met, and to me, that was more important than any championship.
I needed a place to feel at home, and Iowa was it.
“I’m not embarrassed to be a virgin. It’s a physical act that means nothin’, just like runnin’ sprints or doin’ a few push-ups.”
Charlie’s brows shoot up. “Now you’re just being stubborn. If you thought sex meant nothing, you’d have done it by now.”
True, I would have.
Maybe.
“Are you worried at this point you’ve let your virginity go so far that you’d be bad at it?”
“Please stop saying the word virgin. And no, I don’t think I’d be bad at it.” I snort. “Please, I fail at nothin’.”
“You don’t sound confident.” Charlie is smirking; it’s dark, but I catch it all the same as I let my hand withdraw from the top of hers.. “Besides, sex isn’t about failing or winning. It’s about…it’s…” Her voice trails off and her hands flail a little before settling back on her knees. “It’s just not like trying to win or lose a game.”
“How would you know? Are you a nympho?”
The look she gives me…
Shit. Why did I fuckin’ ask if she was a nympho?
“I’ve had sex with one person exactly three times,” she informs me, smoothing her palms down the front of her jeans. “It hurt the first time, was awkward the second, and unmemorable the third. I did it because I wanted to get it over with. He was a decent guy—we’d been going out about eight months, and he was…” She shrugs. “A kid. We both were.” Her feet are still dangling off the swing, barely reaching the ground, making her look like a kid right now. “Anyway. I’m not a nympho.” Charlie rolls her eyes. “Who even uses that word anymore?”
“You dated anyone since?”
It takes her a few moments to reply. “I’ve been on dates, if that’s what you mean.”
It’s not really what I meant. I’m curious to know if she’s casually banged anyone else—not that it’s any of my business, but I am inquisitive. About her, her habits, hobbies…bed partners.
“You into casual sex?”
“Jackson, I literally just told you I’ve had sex three times, with the same guy, three years ago.” Another eye roll goes in the books. “Thanks for being such an attentive listener.”
“Right. Sorry.” It’s just that… “Someone who looks like you should have a boyfriend or whatever. Or at least dudes throwin’ themselves at you to get your attention.”
“Someone who looks like me? You’re cute, but no guys throw themselves at me or try to get my attention. I could go stand inside in my underwear and still not get hit on.”
Another snort leaves my nose and I swear to fucking God, if I do it one more time, I’ll hate myself in the morning for acting like such a tool.