Instantly, I was shy and retiring Scout again. Public Scout. I tried to claw back the girl I had been two minutes ago, before I’d let my anger get the better of me.
“Nothing. I misspoke. I’m flustered. I—”
But Jared saw right through it. They all did. I clocked understanding as it dawned on each and every face in that bar. And not just my team, either, but every BuzzCorp employee close enough to eavesdrop.
“No way,” he crowed. “You’re avirgin?”
Well, yes. In the technical sense. But in that moment, I felt well and truly fucked.
8
Beat Around My Bush
It was like a scene in a movie—all conversation, clinking of ice in glasses, all clattering of silverware ceased immediately. Everyone stared. Record-scratch moment.
When we were together, Lloyd hadn’t known I was a virgin. That was good, because at least he hadn’t told Rogan about that. For a moment, I’d had a scrap of dignity.
But I had to go and screw it up by blurting it out in front of everyone.
So there I was, surrounded by my employees and coworkers, not to mention the poor, unsuspecting bar staff, having just admitted that I, the sex toy engineer heralded by my boss as the future of the industry, had never actually had sex before.
“I have to go.”
“Scout—”
That was Clara, approaching me, but I couldn’t answer her. Not now. I knew she would be sweet and sympathetic, and I just knew that if I looked at her, I’d start crying.
I couldn’t be a crieranda virgin in front of my colleagues. One of those was bad enough. Both of them? Beyond humiliating.
As I collected my things, I tried to dredge my thoughts from my devastated alcoholic fugue state and put them in order.Okay. Everyone knows you’re a virgin. Lloyd Exeter is spreading lies about you online. And you’re probably never going to be the same after this. But there’s a silver lining, I guess. At least Hudson didn’t hear all of this.
Except…he did.
When I turned around to leave, I discovered that he’d been sitting there, down the bar from me, for at least a few minutes. He still had his backpack slung over one shoulder, like he’d come in but froze when the fireworks started.
Fuck this.
Dropping his gaze, I stormed out of the bar, too drunk and too anxious to care about the mess I left behind me.
My steps out onto the darkening Dallas streets were shaky. It was hard to see the street signs through the haze of tears threatening to spill over onto my cheeks; the tequila brain didn’t help either. But I let muscle memory guide me home.
I only got a couple of blocks before a voice rang out behind me, just like it did the day before when he cornered me for that accidental kiss.
“Scout! Scout, wait!”
Hudson materialized beside me, his cologne haunting my nose like the last, lingering magnesium carbonate from erased classroom chalk. I hated how that smell immediately made a few of the knots in my shoulders relax. How it reminded me of the soft, comforting embrace of the sweatshirt he’d lent me.
“I don’t need you to try and make me feel better,” I said, desperate to dispel the feeling.
“Ah, the bar’s not really my scene anyway. I figured I could use the walk.”
I shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
We walked in silence. It was…surprisingly nice, to have his presence there. Nonjudgmental. Noncurious. Just there for me.
“Well,” he said eventually, breaking the silence. “Look at it this way. At least no one thinks we’re sleeping together anymore. Or if they do, then they’re not talking about it anymore.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Big mistake, though, because a few tears leaked out as I did.
