“Being with a string of different girls isn’t the same as having one special person, Drew.”
“God, you make it sound like I’m a player.”
Yes. Well. Given I’ve technically been with precisely no one so far, sexually speaking—not even my own boyfriend—anyone with any experience is a lothario from where I stand.
He shifts me out of his way, then feeds four slices of bread into the toaster.
“I can’t possibly eat,” I tell him.
He frowns. “It’s not for you.”
He’s eating four slices of breadandthe cereal? Where does he put it? My eyes flit over his taut physique. Seeing him practically undressed only calls to mind my other problem. Sex. And the fact that Oliver is expecting us to have it for the first time when he gets back from Europe. First time for me, that is.
We would have done it ages ago if he’d had his way, but whenever I imagine stripping off my clothes, I get worried I won’t know what to do and where to put things, and when, and in what order, while he compares the shambles of being in bed with me to all the other girls he knows.
“Bloody hell, Hudson, your boyfriend has been out of the country five seconds. You look like you want to devour me,” Drew teases, breaking me from my ponderings.
I ammortified. “Sorry!” I blurt. “I was thinking about sex.”
The toast pops up as if it can’t miss a second of this exchange.
“Not with you, obviously,” I clarify.
He picks up the toast and burns his fingers. “Shit!”
“Oliver wants us to … when he gets back …”
He busies himself attacking the toast with butter. Metic-ulously slicing tomatoes and cheese. Cutting the bread into precise rectangles. Then he carries the plate to the kitchentable, drags a chair along the tiles (cue more internal rage from me), sits down, and says, “Are you sure you don’t want some?”
“Er …” Now I’m truly flustered. “I mean, part of me does, obviously …”For the love of God, do not elaborate, Evie.
He pushes the plate across the table toward me. Oh! He was talking about toast. He covers a smile by biting into a piece. I can tell he’s trying to eat less annoyingly this time, and I feel myself soften toward him, despite his teasing.
“What doyouwant?” he says, after a while. We’re off toast and back on sex, I think.
I want to tell him I’m terrified. That I’m scared of showing someone my body. Scared I won’t know what to do with it, and that my lack of experience will ruin everything. But while Drew and I have become mates, that’s a conversation for me and Bree. He continues anyway, before I can think, and says, “Because if you’re not ready, he needs to respect that.”
I’m definitely not ready.The thought rushes at me, loudly.
“But I told him I loved him,” I explain.
Drew puts down the toast and pushes away the plate, defeated. He looks squarely at me. “You did?”
It’s like I’m under a spotlight in a police interview and he’s asking me if I meant it. Do I love Oliver? I must. Everything about him and me is like all my fictional dreams come true. He has everything in the world going for him and he’s literallyobsessedwith me. Whenever I’m with him, I feel like I’ve lost my grip on this earth. It’s this exciting, scary sense that I can’t predict our next steps.
“Whether or not you do is irrelevant,” Drew says, barging on. “You can still say no if you’re not ready. End of story.”
“I think I’m just scared,” I admit. I’m such an overthinkerwhen it comes to this stuff, and I hate this about myself. I wish I had the confidence of other girls. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
Now he’s standing up and dumping leftover toast in the bin. “It needs to be more than fine,” he says, clattering the dish into the sink as he shoves the tap on too fast. “Fuck!” he says, accidentally spraying water all over himself. “Sorry.”
Drew always apologizes for swearing. It’s cute and unnecessary, because I also swear—with him, at least. Not with Oliver. It’s like I try to portray a version of myself with my boyfriend that is his ideal girl. I look back at Drew and his messy hair, wiping his torso with a tea towel as the hot morning sun beams through the kitchen window. And I can’t help feeling slightly envious of the girls he’s no doubt very patient with during “more than fine” sex.
35
Drew
I wish she would shut up about having sex with Oliver.
