Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I roll my neck before leaning forward again to peer at the laptop screen in front of me.Val, of course, has a huge online presence. There’s plenty of news about the Zakharova, including an incredible pieceNew York Magazinedid a few months ago on masculinity and the arts featuring a killer interview with him. He’sall oversocial media,too, though he’s cleaned it up a bit since becoming an item with my brother. I remember a time when his Instagram page wasfullof party pics with Val looking his usual smugly charming self, his arms around all manner of male and female “friends”.
Aka, fuck buddies.
But in a post-Roman world? That’s all gone. Now, his social media is an endless, nauseating barrage of cutesy photos of the two of them.
Val and Roman holding hands walking through Central Park. Val and Roman kissing courtside at a Knicks game. Val lookingincrediblyexcited and proud as he mugs for the camera, while Roman rolls his eyes and holds up his six-month sobriety coin.
But his older brother?
Nothing. Not a single photo, post, reference, or “like”.
I scowl at the laptop screen before suddenly, I pause.
DidIjust say “fuck buddy”?
Heat creeps up my neck. Okay, I didn'tsayit. But I sure thought it.
Fuck buddy.
I repeat it inside my head like a dirty little secret, letting it simmer there.
It’s not that I don’t swear. It’s just that…
Okay, I don’t swear. But it’s not something I do purposefully, like I’mtryingto cultivate this ultra prim and proper “good girl” persona. I just don’t really ever use expletives, especially not the F word.
And yet…I justdidsay it…or at least think it.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“Fuck!!!”
I cringe the moment I yell the word out loud to no one in my room. My face throbs with heat as I clamp both hands over my mouth, biting back a grin.
“Fuck,” I say again, much more quietly.
Hmm.
Apparently, no-longer-a-virgin Evelina swears.
Interesting.
It’s been five days sincethatnight.
The night Vaughn rampaged past every comfort zone, line and boundary I have. Orhad. And since then, that’sallI’ve been thinking about.
Not in a “schoolgirl crush” way. Naive as I am, I’m notthatinnocent. I know sex frequently isjust sex. I know this doesn't make him my boyfriend.
But still.
Still.
My teeth rake over my lower lip.
Itwasmy first time. Five days later, saying that to myself still brings a flutter to my stomach.
I’m not a virgin anymore.
