Her eyes are trained on the road, beaming with joy as if we’re about to witness a fucking miracle.
Moments pass, and no car shows up.
Sighing, she runs her hand over her pink shorts and smoothes her white cotton shirt before raking her fingers through her hair.
It doesn’t take long, and her expression shifts, sadness coloring her eyes.
“What’s the problem now?”
Bitter, she looks away, her chin quivering a little.
Oh, I know what the problem is.
We’ve talked about it at length.
“It can’t be that bad,” I say, patting her on her back.
“We’re the last two virgins in the County. How can you say that?” she jokes, venting her frustration at the same time.
It sounds comical, but this is serious business.
At least to her, it is.
I choose not to think about it.
She props her elbows on her knees, rests her chin on her hands, and roots her eyes on the road while I grip the back of the bench.
Melancholy glints in her eyes.
“Don’t worry. He’ll be back,” I say.
“It’s the end of the summer. Do you see him back?” she murmurs.
I stay silent.
“He’s spent two months in Italy with his friends, and not once has he called me,” she says, making a good point. “He doesn’t care about me.”
“So fucking what? You think that sleeping with him would’ve made him care?” I toss at her, puzzled by her logic.
“Yeah. That must be part of the reason.”
“Oh, come on… If you must sleep with him to keep him interested in you, he doesn’t deserve you.”
“We’re eighteen, and we’ve never been with a man,” she retorts, talking about our ‘problem’ like it's a communicable disease.
“So what?”
“People do that kind of stuff much earlier than that.”
“It’s not as if we’ve planned it that way. It just happens that we haven’t met the right people,” I say, not very convincing, though. “I don’t get it. Why are you so obsessed with your virginity? Or him? He would’ve probably left you anyway.”
Her sigh breaks my heart.
“It’s not only about him. I don’t want to be a virgin forever.”
I laugh softly.
“Shut up. You won’t be.”