Page 33 of About That Night

Now I’m really curious. “I’m not going to judge you, I promise. I’m the king of stupid choices, remember? Ask my mother. Or Otis and Betty.”

She laughs a little but then exhales. “Okay. But I have to give you the backstory.”

I nod. “I’ve got nowhere to be, and I asked. Take all the time you need.”

Playing with her fork, she pushes the greens around. “All of my friends had been teasing me about being a virgin, going off to college without losing it. You know, growing up in a small town, there’s nothing to do…nothing to talk about. That was a hot topic.”

“You were a virgin?” It takes me a beat to realize that doesn’t make sense, but my mouth works faster than my brain.

“No, but that was the point. I wanted you to be my first time, so I was pretending that you were.”

I’ve never claimed to understand how eighteen-year-old girls’ minds work, even when I was eighteen, but this one has me really head-scratching. “I’m not sure I follow.” Like, at all.

“We went to the beach for spring break in March, and I lied to my parents about it. I said I was going to build houses in Mississippi for hurricane relief.”

That makes me chuckle. “That sounds like a Hank move. Nice.”

“I know. It was horrible, but it was the only excuse they were going to buy to allow me to leave. I don’t even know why they believed me. I wouldn’t have believed me. I can’t even swing a hammer. But after sneaking a bunch of sexy clothes over to your parents’ house and packing, I went off to Pensacola with Faith and our friends, feeling all bold and grown up and sassy. I got super drunk and everyone was saying I was going to meet a guy, teasing me, and I did. They were saying it was fate.”

That’s not fate. That’s alcohol.

“I don’t think it’s hard to meet someone drunk in a bar on spring break,” I point out. “Not sure that’s fate.”

Chastity gives me a long look. “No kidding. Tell that to my eighteen-year-old idiot ass. I met Austin from Houston, and he was cute and nice and giving compliments because he was shoveling shit to get in my pants, and I believed it all. We danced, we kissed, he invited me back to his room, and I thought, why not, right?”

I saw where this was going. “Austin from Houston must have thought he won the lottery.”

“Austin from Houston didn’t even bother to take all of my clothes off. Three minutes after we got in his room, it was all over. I was no longer a virgin.” She shakes her head. “I was kind of stunned. I thought it would at least be fun for me. It was…nothing. Pressure, and then it was over. Maybe that’s because I was drunk, though, I don’t know. Maybe that’s TMI. I never talk about this. I don’t know how to talk about it when people ask me about Josiah’s father.” Chastity shoves her fork around on her plate.

Damn. That sounds horrible, and I feel angry for her. It also makes me sad that anyone has ever made her feel any kind of way about it. “That’s not TMI. I asked you to share. The guy could at least have tried to make it good for you. A little fucking foreplay goes a long way.”

“I agree. Though he did walk me back to my motel room afterward, so I don’t think he was a bad guy. Just drunk and young and maybe inexperienced too.”

“And selfish, but okay. We’ll give Austin from Houston the benefit of the doubt.” I don’t want to argue with her that Austin was just a prick because it was clear, given what all I know about Chastity’s history, that he is Josiah’s father. Mouth shut. Keeping it that way.

“I woke up hungover and feeling bad about it, and I told myself it didn’t happen. That if I could hook up with someone I really liked, I could pretend it was my first time.”

Ah, fuck. Enter me into this story.

And all these years, I’d just thought she’d been horny at a girls’ sleepover and found me. I didn’t know I was supposed to be the magic eraser to her shitty losing-it experience.

“You liked me?” I ask, because that seems like a safe assumption, and I have no idea what else to say.

“Yes. Since middle school.” Chastity’s cheeks are pink. “Hank, this is so embarrassing. It all sounds so stupid now, I realize that.”

“Quit saying it’s stupid. I don’t think wanting more from a guy, wanting to enjoy sex, is stupid. I just wish I had known. You were gambling with my whiskey dick, honey. I was throwing back shots that night.”

“If that was whiskey dick, I would hate to see your dick sober.”

“You’d hate it?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “Doubtful.”

“More like scared of it. I’m basically a virgin again, you know. It’s been five years.”

As if I haven’t thought about that every single second since she told me. The idea of how tight she must be, how eager, how wet…“I am very aware of that, but thanks for reminding me yet again.”

She laughs.

“It’s not funny.”

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