I’ve thought about my first time many times before. At nineteen, it’s par for the course that people my age are giving it up to their boyfriends.
With all the secrets I have in my possession, I’m more aware than most how depraved the world is. It’s difficult to ever truly know someone, especially when that someone is nineteen and barely at the start of their lives.
I always dreamed that my first time would be with my husband. He’d have a commitment to me, where only death would separate us. I would know all his secrets. He would know mine.
And it would be beautiful, precious.
Yet there I was, taking it off for someone who wasnotmy husband and even worse, didn’t care about me at all.
Some part of me was scrambling to attribute a better meaning to the moment. Pathetic or not, it was better than admitting the truth. That I had become the pawn on my own chess board.
As the fabric fell down my upper thighs to my knees, I tried to ignore thewrongnessof it. The way the cold air ripped past my naked thighs. The way I felt immediately objectified, like a piece of meat on the chopping block. The way I wanted to bring my underwear back up and at the same time, knew that if I did it, if I touched that piece of fabric stretched between my legs… I lost.
My watch was screaming at me, but I couldn’t hear a thing.
The way Finn’s eyes slipped down my hospital gown and filled with horror at the sight of that scrap of plain, old cotton will scar me for life. I have never felt more undesirable than I did the moment his lips curled up in disgust and he pushed me away.
I didn’t want him to be my first either, but to have visual and verbal confirmation that I amnotthe girl that the sexiest guy on the band would want, stings.
I won the stupid game.
But at what cost?
Deep breaths, J. Put the bad feelings away. Fold them up like nice, little table napkins and put them in the box. There. There. All neat and tidy.
The watch remains silent.
My health isn’t what’s at risk.
It’s my pride that’s bruised.
When I get back to my room, I willburnthat stupid underwear andeverycotton panty that looks like it in a barrel of flames.
“Get in,” Finn snarls as the Uber drives up. His long legs catapult him to the other side of the car, and he ducks into it.
I hesitate a moment before I do as he instructed.
Finn is, understandably, disturbed by what just happened. He keeps his chilly, handsome face turned away from me. He was extra careful not to look at or touch me on the way down to the lobby of the hospital.
This is so awkward.
I did what had to be done. And, for all intents and purposes, it ended as well as it possibly could have. Finn rejected me, sure. But it’s not like I actually wanted to lose my virginity tonight.
If I’d miscalculated my opponent, if Finn actually wanted to throw me on the hospital bed, push my gown up, and climb over me…
I shudder, and the Uber driver notices.
“Hey, man. Is your girlfriend cold?” He glances at me in the rearview mirror. “I can turn down the air con.”
Finn is busy typing something on his phone, but I have a feeling that he wouldn’t have answered the driver whether he heard the question or not.
“I’m not his girlfriend,” I correct the driver. “And I’m fine.”
The driver returns his attention to the road, and I rub my finger over the lump in my collarbone. Now that we’re moving farther and farther away from the hospital, I’m getting more nervous.
“Why do we need to go to Redwood?” I ask Finn.
He continues typing.
