The Deal(80)

I have to ask, “Were you?”

He grins. “Naah. I punched in my V-card at fifteen.”

Fifteen. That’s how old Hannah was when she… I suddenly wonder if that had been her first time, and horror claws up my throat. Jesus. Losing your virginity is a huge deal for some chicks—I can’t even imagine what’d it feel like having it taken from you.

“Why? You’ve got a date with a hot virgin?” Birdie teases.

“Something like that.” Considering he met Hannah last night at Malone’s, I’m sure Birdie is putting two and two together in his head, but I know he won’t blab about this to anyone.

And I figure this virgin story is safer than uttering the words rape victim. Because really, the approach to sleeping with the former can’t be all that different from doing it with the latter. In both instances, you need to be patient and respectful and thorough, right?

“So what did you do for Nat’s first time?” I ask awkwardly.

“Honestly? I just tried to make her comfortable.” Birdie shrugs. “She’s not into all that mushy shit, like flowers and candles and rose petals all over the bed. She didn’t want it to be a big deal.” Another shrug. “Some girls do want to make a big production outta it, though. So in your case, I think the first thing you need to do is figure out what kind of girl she is. Low-key or mega romantic.”

I think about Hannah and all the pressure she’s under to be “normal”—which is probably a million times worse than the pressure I’m feeling at the moment—and I immediately know the answer.

“Low-key, definitely. I think candles and rose petals would make her nervous.”

Birdie tips his head. “Then just go slow and make sure she’s comfortable. That’s the only advice I can give you.” He pauses. “And include lots of foreplay, dude. Chicks need that shit. Got it?”

I chuckle. “Yes, sir.”

“Any more questions? Because I stink to high heaven, and I desperately need a shower.”

“Naah, that’s it. Thanks, man.”

Birdie slaps me on the shoulder and rises to his feet. “Don’t stress too much about it, G. Sex is supposed to be fun, remember?” Then he winks and lumbers out of the weight room.

Don’t stress? Jeez, how can I not?

I groan out loud, grateful that nobody is around to hear the panicky sound.

Make her comfortable. Go slow. Lots of foreplay. Don’t stress.

Okay. I can do that.

Or at least I damn well hope I can.





24




Hannah


I almost throw up three times on the way over to Garrett’s, but I choke back the nerves because I’m driving Tracy’s car, and the last thing I want to do is pay to have my vomit scrubbed off her upholstery.

I honestly don’t remember a second of my five-hour shift at Della’s. Or my one-hour rehearsal with Cass earlier. Or how I got from one place to the other today. I’ve been on autopilot since I left Garrett’s bedroom earlier, every conscious thought focused on what I’m about to do tonight.

Did I mention I’m nervous?

I shouldn’t be, though. It’s just sex. It’s sex with a guy I’m attracted to, a guy I genuinely like and trust.

My hands shouldn’t be trembling this badly, and my heart shouldn’t be beating this fast. And yet intertwined with the nervousness is a sense of excitement. Anticipation. I’m even wearing matching bra and panties beneath my waitressing uniform. Yep, you know you’re about to have sex when you’re rocking black lace top and bottom, and your skin is silky smooth and ready to be touched.

Garrett’s roommates aren’t home when I walk into the house. Unless they’re holed up in their bedrooms, but I don’t think they are because there’s nothing but silence in the upstairs hallway as I head toward Garrett’s room.

I wonder if Garrett ordered them to disappear. Then I hope he didn’t, because…well, that’s like holding up a neon sign announcing that he and I are getting it on tonight.

“Hey,” he says when I walk in.

My heart simultaneously does a nervous somersault and an appreciative flip. I can tell he took the time to get ready because his hair is still slightly damp from the shower, and his face is completely clean-shaven. I glance at his black track pants and tight gray undershirt, then at my garish uniform. Thanks to the jittery state I’ve been in all day, I forgot to bring a change of clothes.