"And look it may have been lousy, but I'm always up for seconds. You just can't expect to have a sleepover. I don't do that shit." Dain continues, and I roll my eyes.
As of this moment I've come to the conclusion that the jerk likes the sound of his own voice.
I haphazardly pull my dark honey blonde hair into a ponytail as I shove my legs into my shorts, still feeling the wetness and sweat clinging to my thighs with a cringe.
Disgust fills me, shame. I was disposable all along.
I will the sting of tears away as I button the shorts.
I'm not sad, I'm angry. And I cry when I'm angry, it's an issue I should talk to a therapist about, but I don't have the money for that so bathing in my childhood trauma seems like the best option right now.
I thought he'd be the perfect guy to give my virginity to, and he spent months playing me. Lying, just to get in my pants.
"Are you listening to me, Ivy?"
"No." I reply, shoving my feet into my sneakers, my socks thrown some place in his room. I'm not going to waste time looking for them.
Anger slips over his face like a mask and he scoffs, "fuck, for a girl who has no clue what she's doing you sure do have a lot of attitude. I did you a favour by fucking you, Ivy."
My throat tightens with pain, and I flash a glare his way. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Nobody wants to fuck a lousy lay, you should be thanking me for taking one for the team and telling you now."
I don't give him an answer, grabbing my phone from his bedside table and rush for the door.
"Don't cry, baby." I hear him say behind me, "find me when you know how to suck cock and maybe I'll tell the team how good you are, I'm sure a girl like you would love having the team lining up for her."
Anger washes over me and I clench my teeth, rushing down the stairs and thanking god that the rest of the house is empty.
What did I ever see in that self-serving dick?
• • •
"It was embarrassing, Charlie!" I say, shoving another marshmallow in my mouth with a pout.
"There's other guys out there, Ivy. They're not all selfish dickheads."
"That's not the point. I don't want to do it anymore!" I almost whine and then cringe from the sound of my own complaint. "What's the point? It wasn't even that good, the books make it out to be so good and then it was just," I huff, trying to find the right word, "meh."
And the worst part? It wasn’t even the bad sex.
It was that he pretended to care to get what he wanted.
Used, and discarded. Fitting. You'd think I'd get used to the idea of never being good enough – of always being lied to.
I shake my head and pierce my best friend with a stare, "He was no Cassian or Rowan, or even Gryphon Shore."
"They're book characters." Charlie says with a growing grin, reaching for a marshmallow. A pink one, ugh.
"Exactly, why can't I find a man like the boys in Hannaford prep, or four psychos?"
"Didn't they try to kill her?"
"That's not the point, Charlotte. All these books I read make it seem like sex is so easy and natural, and they all know what they're doing!"
"Ivy."
"I just wish there was a guide out there that could teach you what to do-" as soon as I say the words, it seem like the perfect option. "- like step by step instructions." I look to Charlotte, eyes alight with the idea. It's perfect.
