“Your virginity is a mental health issue.”
I stuff it in my bag.
“I’ve got some vodka shots for you for the ride over.” Gran adds them to my bag of shame.
“I can take the subway,” I tell her weakly. “Probably could use the exercise.”
“You’re not taking the subway in the middle of the night wearing no panties and with a purse full of sex toys.”
I’mthree mini vodkas deep into the Uber ride when I crawl out of the car at Graham’s building.
“I’m doing it!” I pep-talk myself when I’m alone in the elevator. “I’m going to lose my V-card tonight! I’m an adult. Adult women have sex. This is not a big deal.”
It’s only the single most important day of my life, aside from my wedding day.
Which, honestly, now that I’m thinking about it, maybe it would make sense from a minimize-anxiety standpoint to have my first time and my wedding on the same day. You know, kill two birds with one ball of anxiety.
I knock back another of the mini vodka bottles and gag at the medicinal taste.
I hope cum doesn’t taste like that.
“Oh god.” I hyperventilate. “What if it goes in my mouth. Oh my gosh, what am I doing? Who am I kidding. I’m not ready for this. This is such a terrible idea.”
The doors open at the penthouse level.
Graham’s front door is big and black and scary in front of me.
“Down, down. I need to go back down.” I press the door close button, but the elevator just makes confused noises at me.
“Help! Obey me. Fuck technology. They need to bring back elevator operators.”
I’m in front of the elevator pressing the down button, trying to get it together, and digging in my purse to call an Uber when the door opens.
“Dani?”
“Eep!” My hand comes out of my purse with my phone—wait, that’s not my phone.
Graham’s eyes narrow.
“What are you doing with those handcuffs?”
I stare at him.
He looks good.
He’s just wearing his suit pants, no tie, the white dress shirt half unbuttoned.
I remember how it was waking up next to him. The way he was nestled against me. The weight of his arm thrown over my hip.
I want to wake up like that again.
I am a strong, desirable woman, and any man would be lucky to have me.
I haul back and chuck those handcuffs at him, really doing my fourth-grade PE teacher proud.
They bounce off his chest, and he catches them.
“What the hell? Did you just throw handcuffs at me?” He takes a menacing step toward me.
