Virgin

‘What do you mean?’ I asked in a slightly strangled voice, knowing I wouldn’t like the response.

She sighed. ‘Don’t hate me for saying this, but I think you’re scared.’

‘Scared?! How can you say that?’ Hurt welled up inside me. ‘Lara, it’s so easy for you. You never had to worry about any of this, and OK, so Jez is a bit of a dick to you, but you both clearly really like each other and you’ve been seeing him on and off for years. It’s different for me. You have no idea how hard it is to be alone when everyone around you is in a relationship or living single life to the max and sleeping with the whole university.’

‘But you’re not alone, are you?’ she snapped. ‘You have your friends, you’re doing well at uni—but you’re just obsessed with finding a guy and losing your virginity. If you forgot about that for one second, you might actually enjoy your final year instead of freaking out the whole time.’

I felt tears start to sting the back of my eyes. ‘Do you ever think for a second that I do try?’ I asked her. ‘That losing my virginity is important to me because it would help me finally fit in? You fit in without even trying. I don’t even understand why I’m a virgin. No one we know has ever had an issue losing their virginity—more often, they regret losing it to the wrong guy. You had an opportunity with Marc but the only one I’ve ever had was with James Martell. Maybe I fucked it up because, yes, post–Bite Job I was scared of seeing him, but I was seventeen. Since then, no other guy has been interested in me so I’ve never had an opportunity to try again. Lara, I try so hard to meet men and none of them ever do anything more than kiss me—exactly like last night. You just go out to a club and a hot guy comes over and flirts with you. I get stuck with the old men and emos, and then my best friend has sex in my bathroom with a stranger. Do you not understand why I feel alone?’

‘Oh my God, why do you keep going on about the bathroom thing?’ she asked, her voice becoming shrill and high. ‘I’m sorry that Angus preferred me to you. Maybe it’s because I’m not so desperate.’

I felt as though she had whacked me across the face. ‘Desperate? You actually, genuinely think I’m desperate? How can you say that?’

She looked guilty but the apology I expected didn’t come. ‘Well, I just think you’re a bit … I don’t know, obsessed with this whole thing. You wanted to lose your virginity to a guy in a club.’

‘So?! It’s my choice,’ I replied, trying not to cry. ‘Lara, you can’t judge me when you’ve never been in my position.’ I closed my eyes tightly and blurted out something I regretted immediately. ‘Why have you suddenly decided to care about it, anyway? You never have before.’

Her mouth dropped open. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie, but are you suggesting I don’t care? I’m here for you whenever you need me. I drop everything every time you have a crisis, which is pretty much every other day.’

My hurt morphed into anger. ‘So? We’re best friends—that’s what we do. OK, fine, I have a lot of crises, but they’re not serious. I don’t … I don’t mope about them or anything.’

She cried out in disbelief, ‘Please, Ellie. You are so self-pitying. And you know what? You can be really selfish, too.’

‘I can be selfish? Look who’s talking! We spend hours talking about Jez every couple of days, analysing his text messages, and going on and on about the latest news at Oxford when I don’t even go there, and I don’t care about the people there.’

‘Exactly,’ she spat. ‘You don’t care about the people in my life but you expect me to care about whatever guy recently smiled at you on the tube, or the people you hate in your English course. It’s almost like you’re jealous of me.’

We stared at each other, and our words seemed to echo around the room. This was our first fight. I didn’t know how much of it we meant. Was it true? Was I selfish? The silence was unbearable. I finally understood the phrase about cutting the tension in a room with a knife.

She stood up abruptly. ‘Whatever. I’m leaving.’ She grabbed her bag and coat, and walked out of my room, slamming the door behind her.

The minute she left, I burst into tears and all the anger dissolved into hurt and regret. She was right—I did self-pity and mope and I was selfish. But wasn’t everyone? And how could she say those things to me? Didn’t she care that she had just hurt me more than any boy ever had?

I curled into a ball on my bed and began to cry very quietly. My wet hair soaked through my dressing gown, but I barely noticed. Lara thought I was desperate.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SHE STILL HADN’T CALLED. It was Wednesday and I didn’t know whether to stay in my Camden room or go back home to Guildford. Lara would be there, too—or maybe she had gone back to Oxford to be as far away from me as possible. We’d never had a falling-out before.

In the cold light of day, a bit of the anger had come back. The things she had said were so hurtful, and so … true. She had blurted them out without caring how I felt, and I’d been just as bad. I couldn’t face her and I couldn’t even begin to start processing the thought of an apology. I had spent all of Tuesday crying, eating my feelings and distracting myself with movies. Now I had an ice cream hangover and couldn’t spend another second in my own company.

The only option was to pack up my stuff and head home in defeat for the Easter holidays, but I couldn’t bear the thought of sitting around in Guildford with nothing to do. The only reason I normally went home was to spend evenings with Lara, watching films and lounging in the park. I couldn’t face going back yet. At least if I stayed in London, I would be surrounded by people. I needed a distraction, to spend time with someone different so I wouldn’t have to think about Lara.

Suddenly I remembered Emma. If she was still around, maybe we could have our promised drinks. Before I could change my mind, I reached for my phone and sent her a text asking if she was free. I hadn’t even had a chance to put my phone down when it buzzed with a reply.

Yes! So glad you texted. I say we get a late pub lunch and start drinking immediately afterwards. Girly cocktails?

Perfect. Where shall we meet?

See you at The Rocket at 3pm?

Done!! x

Feeling proud of myself for taking the initiative and doing something with my day, I showered quickly and decided to walk the thirty minutes to the pub to work off some of yesterday’s calories. I’d forced myself into my favourite black skinny jeans and even though it had taken me half an episode of Friends to do them up, they were finally covering my cellulite and inspiring me to walk briskly. I flicked around on my iPod until I found my Fuck You, World playlist. It was a relic of my teen angst days but I needed to reembrace life. And dancing to The Killers was the easiest way to do it.

Forty-five minutes later I arrived at the pub and collapsed, exhausted, into a booth. I had just ordered tap water when Emma walked in. She gave me a hug, enveloping me in flowery perfume, long feathery earrings and her jaggedly-cut blond hair. Thank God I had worn my favourite jeans and black suede boots with gold studs, because otherwise I would have been seriously underdressed. Emma was wearing a chiffon cream shirt over a black bra, paired with jeans, heeled boots and a furry leopard-print coat.

‘So, have you ordered yet?’ she asked. ‘I’m craving a full fish, chips and mushy peas with a proper sticky toffee pudding.’

‘That sounds so good. Except I ate a whole tub of Ben & Jerry’s last night.’

She looked at me sympathetically. ‘Ouch. Who is the bastard?’

‘I wish it was a guy.’ I sighed. ‘Long story short, she is—or maybe was—my best friend from school, who just decided to tell me everything she’s secretly disliked about me for years, out of the blue, after having sex with a guy I fancied in my bathtub while I slept obliviously next door.’

‘Whoa, sounds like you’ve had a rough few days…. Who was the guy? Was he fit, because if he was, then surely the bathtub sex is excusable?’

‘I guess so, yes. I mean, neither of us knew him. We just saw him in a club, fancied him, and he chose her.’

‘And then went back to yours and your friend got it on with him in your bathtub? Classy girl,’ she said, shaking her head with an admiring smile. ‘Babe, you could blame her for this, but I think what’s happened here is you’ve made the classic mistake of having a best friend who gets all the guys. You need to go out there and get a new best friend—preferably an uglier one.’

I snorted with laughter but she grinned at me and carried on.

‘OK, maybe that is a bit drastic. But you know what? There are so many girls like this out there. Pretty girls who get all the guys without lifting a finger and then rub it in their friends’ faces. Bitches.’

I laughed. ‘OK, I feel like we’re not talking about my friend any more. Do you have direct experience of this, Emma Matthews?’

Emma rolled her eyes. ‘Do I? At school I was second to Alex, because she was blonder than me and had bigger boobs. That’s all the Portsmouth guys cared about, by the way—some cultural context for you. You’d do really well there,’ she added, making me blush as she looked down at the cleavage I’d tried to hide with a high-cut top. ‘But anyway, then I realised that all those years of rejection and being second choice had taught me loads. Ten years later, I am now oblivious to rejection and I can proposition a man without really caring what he says back.’

I looked at her with unadulterated awe. ‘So, you ask men out?’

‘I’ve been known to do so. And for the few who say no, the dozens who have said yes and given me some of the best nights of my life have made it worthwhile.’

‘I’m officially impressed,’ I said. ‘The closest I’ve ever come to asking someone out was when I asked a guy called James to take my virginity when I was seventeen and he said no.’

She burst out laughing. ‘Oh, wow, that kind of rejection is enough to put anyone off. Seventeen, huh? That’s kind of late to lose your virginity. We all lost ours before fifteen, but then half of the girls in my year at school got pregnant before A-Levels. So I guess we aren’t really a fair reflection of the greater world.’

They all lost their virginity at fifteen? Oh God, I was a circus freak. A cable TV channel was probably going to end up doing a documentary on me. The twenty-one-year-old virgin.

I forced a smile. ‘Ah, well, I don’t think anyone at my school has ever got pregnant before being respectably married to a doctor or lawyer, aside from Molly Hanson in 1984, who ran off with a teacher after he got her pregnant in sixth form. Since then, the school hasn’t allowed male teachers under the age of forty unless they’re gay. They’re scared the girls will run off with them.’

‘They have a point. I definitely would have run off with Mr Branson if he’d asked. It’s only because he was so good-looking that I was motivated enough to get an A in Physics. So anyway, when did you lose your virginity after the big rejection?’ she asked, drawing out the last three words with dramatic pausing.

I flushed red. I didn’t want to lie to Emma because she was so open with me. But I couldn’t tell her I was a virgin … especially since she clearly didn’t know anyone who was still a virgin post-GCSEs. But how would we ever have a proper friendship if she didn’t know the one defining detail about me?

I quickly blurted out the truth before I lost my courage. ‘Well, it never actually happened for me,’ I admitted. Her face screwed up in confusion as her mind started to process what I said. She was judging me, and oh my God, I was freaking out. I rushed on, ‘Well, until a few months later when I got drunk and that was that.’

She grinned. ‘Ah, the classic drunken first time. Happens to us all.’

I plastered a bright smile on my face and hated myself for being too weak to stick to the truth. ‘Yup! Though I can’t say I’ve had many repeats of it, so I’ll have to live vicariously through you.’

‘Ugh, I know. There is a major male drought going on these days. But is there anyone in the English course you fancy? Charlie, maybe?’ she asked with a knowing smile.

I wrinkled my face up in disgust. ‘God, no! I could never keep up with his filthy sense of humour.’

‘Yeah, I know, right! It’s like … what is he trying to cover up with it? I reckon all those stories are just there to hide the fact that he has got a little secret of his own—a very, very little one.’

‘Are you trying to tell me he has a tiny dick? How would you know that?’ I asked her in shock.

She laughed and tapped the side of her nose. ‘I have my sources. Let’s just say I overheard Marie saying something to Fiona.’

‘Marie and Charlie? You have got to be kidding me,’ I gasped.

‘Marie and everyone, more like. The girl is a serious player—and that means something, coming from me.’

We ordered our fish and chips and carried on gossiping well into the sticky toffee puddings and our second mojitos. I felt a bit guilty for lying to the most open person I’d ever met, but I figured the second I slept with someone, the lies would be true, and she would never need to know about the half lie.

‘Anyway,’ Emma said as she spooned the last bit of caramel sauce off her plate and threw her spoon down in triumph, ‘we got so distracted that I forgot to be more supportive about your fight with your friend. What actually happened?’

I groaned. ‘It’s too depressing to relive.’

‘Do it.’

I took a deep breath. ‘OK, but remember … you asked for this.’

‘Disclaimer accepted. Spill.’

‘So, we went out on Monday night to Mahiki. I was craving a man and she’s already seeing someone, so we went out to try to find me a guy. A couple of disgusting old men bought us drinks and we took full advantage. Then we both saw the perfect guy, but of course blond attractive Angus preferred blonde attractive Lara, so they hooked up. Meanwhile, I got distracted by an ugly little emo boy and snogged him, even though he was the only person not wearing a designer outfit.’

‘Whoa—first, what are you trying to say about blonds, Miss Kolstakis? Second, I can’t believe you were in Mahiki and you managed to find an emo.’ She laughed. ‘I admire your skills.’

I raised my eyebrows at her. ‘A skill? I feel like it’s more like a curse.’

‘I don’t know … I’d much rather be with someone a bit different than another typical Oxfordite.’

I paused and briefly wondered if I would have enjoyed being with Angus. He had been pretty rude when I stood on his face. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I give up on men. Especially because I then got very drunk and agreed to let Angus stay with Lara in my tiny en-suite bedroom. And when I woke up I stood on his face, realised that they were both NAKED and then … and then I decided to shower it all away and slipped on what I thought was hair removal cream. But as I was lying flat on my back in the bath, crying out in pain, I realised that I had slipped on Angus’ come.’

Emma spat out her drink and burst out laughing. I grumbled at her to stop enjoying my humiliation so much, but after my attempts failed, I grudgingly joined her and we laughed until we were both close to tears.

‘That … is just … so funny,’ she said, gasping for breath. ‘How do these things happen to you? Even the situation where you accidentally told the whole of UCL English Literature class that you loved being bummed even though you never have been.’

‘I didn’t exactly tell them I loved it….’

‘Yeah, sorry, the rumours going round are a bit different.’

I froze. ‘Please tell me you’re joking.’

‘Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. I think even Charlie has a newfound respect for you. The boys all fancy you now.’

‘Am I meant to be flattered that they now only fancy me because they think I’m a dirty sex maniac?’

‘Excuse me,’ said Emma as she plonked her glass back onto the table. ‘Don’t knock anal sex until you’ve tried it.’ She paused, and then lowered her tone. ‘Except, it can have slightly disastrous consequences.’

I stared at her, picturing her and an unknown man covered in poo. ‘What?’ I asked in alarm.

‘That girl Alex I was telling you about? The first time she did it, they were at the guy’s house and his dad walked in. The guy was so terrified he pulled out immediately, just as she clenched in panic, and … her rectum dislodged and came out with it. The dad had to drive them to hospital.’

I gulped, mentally vowing never to have anal sex.

‘That’s … that’s awful,’ I whispered, trying to erase the very vivid image from my mind.

She nodded slowly. ‘If it hadn’t happened to her, I never would have believed it. It sounds like one of those urban myths, but, unfortunately for Alex, it was true. Some might call it karma,’ she added with a grin.

I let out a shocked laugh.

‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I’m so glad we’re hanging out. You’re definitely the most normal person I’ve met in our course so far.’

‘Same here,’ I said, smiling at her warmly and realising how true it was. ‘Although, that’s really not saying much,’ I joked and she rolled her eyes at me. ‘Honestly, though, sometimes I feel kind of distant from the rest of them. They’re fun and everything, but I’m never sure how much I have in common with them,’ I admitted.

‘I know,’ she cried out. ‘Like, why do we always have to drink red wine and pretend we hate pop music? Sometimes I just want to embrace my inner mainstream self. In fact,’ she said as she raised her glass in the air, ‘here’s to not being cool and not giving a fuck.’

We clinked our glasses together laughing and she called the waiter to bring us more cocktails. He was young and cute, and I shot him my most flirtatious smile but he didn’t seem to notice. Emma, meanwhile, was beyond subtle smiles and eye contact. She flirted openly with him, and wrote her number on the bill when we paid two hours later. When we left, she winked at him and he grinned back at her.

‘I can’t believe you did that, Emma. You’re so brave,’ I lisped as we left the pub.

She laughed. ‘He was so cute I had no choice. My inner lust for him was so overpowering that I just fell prey to my desires. Here’s hoping he calls….’

‘Will you care if he doesn’t?’

‘God, no! He’s a waiter in a bar. There are hundreds of those all over London. Who cares if one of them doesn’t fancy me back? He might have a girlfriend already, or be gay—except I do have a pretty good gaydar—or he might just not like blondes.’

‘You’re my new idol, Emma,’ I said as I tripped over a jagged paving stone.

‘Oh-kaaay, little lady, that’s good to know. But I reckon we should get you home before you throw up all over your new idol.’

‘I’m not that drunk,’ I said, as she bundled me into a cab and told the cab driver an address that wasn’t mine. I laid my head on her furry leopard-print coat and closed my eyes.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I WOKE UP with a headache and saw flashing lights in front of me. I blinked a few times and realised they were fairy lights. Different-coloured ones encased in paper stars, carefully positioned to illuminate a life-sized poster of Rihanna. I looked down and saw that I was stripped down to my underwear and my half-naked body was barely covered by a zebra-print duvet cover.

‘Emma?’ I called out, my voice creaking as though it hadn’t been used in days.

The door creaked open and she rolled in, wearing a hot-pink dressing gown, carrying two floral mugs. ‘Hiya! I brought tea.’

Gratefully I took a mug from her and eased myself up onto my elbows, wincing as a sharp pain shot across my head. ‘Thanks so much for letting me stay here yesterday.’

‘No worries. There was no way I was letting you go home alone in that state. Anyway, I don’t know if you can stomach it but there’s kind of a party happening tonight that you should totally come to.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding. I feel like I’m dying.’

‘It’s the Easter holidays! We have no lectures, and as you told me about a million times last night, you officially have nothing to do back in Guildford. So I can’t think of a single reason why you shouldn’t come.’

I groaned. ‘Emma, I’m an emotional wreck. My best friend doesn’t want to know me any more, I spend my free time eating ice cream alone, and when I do persuade someone to hang out with me, I don’t shut up about all of the above. Why do you want me to come to this party with you?’

‘Stop self-pitying, Ellie Kolstakis,’ she said in a mockmum voice, before putting her cup down and looking me in the eyes. ‘When you’re not moaning about how crappy your life is, you’re hilarious and loads of fun. So I think you should have a shower, then come sit on the sofa with me and watch that new series everyone is obsessed with, and then we can get glammed up and hit the party. How does that sound?’

‘It definitely sounds more appealing than going back to mine and packing up all my stuff to take home.’

‘Exactly. And then I promise you can go home to your family tomorrow and I’ll leave you alone. For now, though, take these.’ She threw me a towel and some tracksuit bottoms. ‘Get showered up. I can’t wait to put you in one of my outfits tonight. You’re going to look so hot.’

I raised my eyebrows at her and walked out of her room, trying to cover my underwear-clad body with her towel. She called out after me, ‘It’s the door on the right. My housemates have all gone back home for Easter, so don’t worry about anyone walking in on you showering. Feel free to enjoy that shower head however you want, babe! ‘

I ignored her tip and had a very uneventful shower. We spent the entire day watching a new series about terrorists and the CIA whilst eating carrot sticks and hummus. After seeing Emma’s fridge, which looked like an aisle from Whole Foods, I now understood why she was still a size six and I wasn’t. The other day’s fish and chips had clearly been her day off weight-watching.

When the evening came round, Emma led me up to her room and forced me into trying on dresses that wouldn’t go up past my bum.

‘Emma, this is getting embarrassing now. I’m a 36D with a sometimes-size-twelve bum, and I’m not going to fit into your clothes. Please can we give up?’

‘You’re only a couple of sizes bigger than me. We can definitely find you something. Ugh, I’m so jealous of your bum. I wish I had one. Mine is just flat.’

‘Stop trying to make me feel better, Emma.’

‘No, I’m serious! Beyoncé is my hero and I dream of having curves like her. In fact, let me prove it to you,’ she said, suddenly starting to rummage through her drawers. After a few minutes she triumphantly pulled out a pair of large knickers. ‘There!’

‘Are those Spanx? Those suck in your fat, Em.’

‘Nooo! Look, they’re padded pants! They have all this padding at the back to give you a structured bum,’ she said, waggling her tiny posterior at me.

I burst out laughing as she pulled the pants on over her black thong and began dancing like her bum idol in the new music video everyone was talking about.

‘OK, point proven. I will squeeze myself into one of your insanely glam dresses if you go out wearing those pants.’

‘Ellie, I already wear these as many times as I can before I have to do a whites wash. Oh my God, I’ve had a brainwave. I think I have a very, very cool chiffony dress lying around somewhere. It wouldn’t only fit you—it would look amazing!’

After a fifteen-minute search, which uncovered numerous sparkly ones instead, Emma found the dress she meant and I put it on.

I looked critically at myself in her full-length mirror. I was expecting it to hang shapelessly from my boobs, which were hooked up in my most industrial, thick-strapped bra. Instead, it gave me a feminine shape. It was black chiffon, sleeveless and even made my legs look shapely. It was covered in a dark blue peacock print and Emma had persuaded me to wear it with her black, five-inch-heeled ankle boots. She had even cajoled me into putting on a pair of long silver earrings, to which I had agreed only as a compromise after refusing to wear two huge peacock feathers dangling from my ears. My long brown hair still looked a bit out of control and there was nothing that could be done about my prominent, straight nose, but the dress did detract attention from the centre of my face.