Page 25 of Pit

“I can’t wait to get married,” she says wistfully, sitting at the table and patting the space beside her so I’ll do the same.

“No one’s gonna marry you, London. Not from the club anyway,” says Ebony, rolling her eyes.

I shift uncomfortably. Sitting with these women feels so foreign to me. It’s not that I’ve never had friends. In school, I was quiet, but I had a few close friends who were the same as me. They went off to university, and we lost touch. When I began to work, I made friends with people in my team, but again, it was the quietest ones, and we never met up outside of work or anything. I’ve never really fit in anywhere.

I tune back in to the conversation as London is listing the reasons men love her. “You’re forgetting your snatched vagina,”adds Foxy, laughing. She turns to me. “She paid to have it tightened.”

I gasp, and London smirks. “It was worth every penny.”

“Yeah, and then Pres didn’t even bother to sample it because he met Lexi,” Ebony points out.

“He missed out,” says London, laughing. She nudges shoulders with me. “Tell us about your man.”

“London,” Ebony hisses, “this isn’t going to go down well with Pit or the VP.”

“Relax,” says London. “We won’t tell them.” She smiles warmly at me. “Go on.”

“Nothing to tell, really. It was a bit of a shotgun wedding actually.”

She gasps. “Oh shit, are you pregnant?”

I shake my head. “No, nothing like that. I didn’t marry for love.” London’s smile fades, and I stare at the tabletop to avoid her pity. “It was a mutual thing.”

“Did you want to get married?” asks Foxy.

I nod. “It was my idea. Well . . . it was part of the deal.”

“Deal?” Ebony repeats, suddenly looking interested.

“We need details,” London cuts in. “Give me tips on how to get a man to marry me.”

I almost smile. “It was stupid really,” I mutter, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “I got drunk and signed up to a dating app.”

“Oh my god, I love a dating app,” London gushes.

“I wasn’t looking to date. I wanted a husband.”

“So, you just put that in your bio?” asks Ebony, smirking.

“Yeah,” I say. “I was offering something all men want . . . apparently.”

“What?” they ask in unison.

“My virginity.”

They all stare wide-eyed. “You’re a virgin?” asks London, looking impressed.

“Of course, she is,” says Ebony, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, do you reckon I could say the same?” asks London.

Foxy laughs. “Please, girl, even with the snatch job, you’re still looser than a prostitute’s mouth.”

“I’m not making it up,” I say. “I am a virgin.”

“How?” asks London, looking confused.

“I just didn’t meet the right man.”

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