I clear my throat, trying to recover from his touch, his words. I may be a virgin, but I’ve thoroughly Googled how intimacy works. And since I didn’t want to check out these kinds of books from the school library, I read them in the bookstore without purchasing them.
So no, I’m not flawless. But I’m hardly a bad girl for not buying the books. I know very well how an orgasm works and feels—well, from experiencing it all by myself—but when I meet my dream future husband, the one from my board, my first orgasm with another human being will be magical.
A few runners pass us, their feet pounding against the path. The movement gets me out of my trance and walking again.
How the hell did my brain make a connection between his words and an orgasm?
I wish I could attend this school, which has nothing to do with the intriguing bull striding next to me. I fought so hard for the 4.0 GPA to earn a scholarship, and now I have to throw it all away.
“What are your nightmares about?”
“Various men attacking me.” No way I’m mentioning the bull from last night. I go on. “I feel like I suffocate in my sleep. Can’t breathe. At that point I usually scream and wake up sweaty and exhausted.”
I tilt my head to accommodate Victor’s height since he towers over me. He has that look on his face—the one I saw in the bathroom when we talked about the stab wound on my shoulder. How can he get angry so easily? I wonder what makes him so aggressive, but I’m not sticking around to find out.
“Have you tried over-the-counter pills? As a short-term solution.”
My body goes rigid. “Never.”
He stares at me. Maybe I sounded harsher than intended.
“My mom takes over-the-counter pills with alcohol to pass out. She says she wants to escape reality… and pretend I don’t exist. I don’t want to be like her.”
“I understand.” He nods and drops the topic.
I appreciate he doesn’t go into how horrible my situation is, and I’m glad he doesn’t show me pity.
“So how did you and Alek meet?”
“At a frat party, playing beer pong. We only partied wild in our freshman year. What’s your favorite memory with Alek when you were younger?” Victor asks.
I guess he doesn’t want to give me the details of their wild freshman year.
“This one time Alek made chocolate pancakes for me. From scratch. It was only us. Dad was gone by then, and Mom was at some sleepover. The mornings, all by ourselves, were tough. So Alek cooked for me to cheer me up.”
He smiles. As we’re walking, three random students fist bump Victor, who doesn’t stop to greet them. A few other students’ eyes widen in horror as we pass them on the green lawns. Then they whisper something to the person next to them.
And the girls who pass by entice him with a smile and flip their hair. I wonder if he is a playboy like my brother—well, like Alek used to be. Victor doesn’t even glance at them.
We enter the campus café. It seems somewhat busy, although school hasn’t started officially. As we approach the girl at the counter, Victor asks me what I’d like to drink.
“Caramel Macchiato. Hot, please.”
He repeats my order to the girl and orders black coffee for himself. Victor pays for the drinks and I thank him. The girl in front of us is smiling at him and her cheeks are red. Her eyes dart between me and Victor, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. After a few minutes, we pick up our drinks.
A tall girl wearing shorts and a tank top is walking toward us with her gaze firmly set on Victor. Her black hair is cut in a bouncy bob that makes her face even prettier. She stops in front of Victor, blocking his way.
“Hey, handsome. When will you be ready to give me the interview you promised?”
Oh?
“Not now, Meredith. I’m in the middle of something.”
Victor steps to the side, but she puts her manicured hand on his bicep and smiles in a seductive kind of way.
“It’ll take only five minutes. You can’t say no to the university newspaper editor.” She retracts her tentacles—she reminds me of an octopus weaving its tentacles around its prey—and rummages through her purse. She pulls out a small colorful notepad and a pink pen. “Are you scared about your upcoming fight with Milkovich? He’s been talking trash about you and your dad—probably a marketing strategy to hype up the fight.”
“I’m not afraid to inflict pain on him. And I don’t care about the ticket sales.”
