Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“There’s not. Neither of us wants to leave for college a virgin, so she asked about doing it with me, and…well, it’s kind of perfect, I guess. I can see what all the fuss is about and maybe figure out what I’m doing a little bit before I do it with someone I really like that way.”
My dick betrayed me by starting to chub up, but that was nothing compared to the ache in my chest. I wanted to tell him not to. That there was nothing wrong with being a virgin, but how would that sound coming from me? I wanted to tell him to have sex with me, but not only was I a man, which he wasn’t interested in, but his brother. So I shoved my feelings aside and said, “Only do it if you’re sure.”
“Were you sure the first time?” he asked, knowing the answer to that.
“You’re not me. You’re…” Better? Let his heart lead him? Both were good answers.
“Whatever. I can have sex too, ya know? I get it, I might not be Mr. Fucking Perfect, but is it so weird that someone might want to fuck me?”
My hands fisted. “What are you even talking about? Why are we fighting about this? I’m not Mr. Perfect, and I don’t care who you screw.”
“Fine, then I’m going to.” He shoved to his feet.
“Fine, then. Have fun.” I crossed my arms.
He turned, stomped like a twelve-year-old toward the door, then stopped. “I don’t know why I’m mad at you.”
“I don’t know why you are either,” I snapped. Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe I could cut the cord earlier than planned. The sooner I stopped wishing we could…wishing there could ever be something between us, the better. “You should do it. You’re right. It’ll make you feel less self-conscious later. You and Amanda care about each other and feel comfortable with each other. If you both want this, you should do it.” Please don’t do it. Please don’t.
“You really think so?”
No. “Sure. If you want. I, for one, plan on having all the sex I can in college, so if you’re anything like me, at least you’ll know your way around a woman.”
“I’m sure I can figure out my way around a woman,” he said, his cheeks pink. And then, “I’m going to tell her yes.”
“Good for you. It’s about time you lose your V card.”
“You haven’t, not for real. Not with a guy.” I shrugged, and he continued, “You wanna go out tonight?”
“Nope. I have plans, remember?” Nausea burned through my gut.
“Okay…maybe I’ll call Amanda, then.”
“Have fun,” I repeated, forcing a smile.
I went out with my friends, and he called her. They had sex that night, and he told me all about it the next day, while I tried hard not to throw up or cry.
They kept hooking up after that. Now that Lane had done it, it had opened up a whole new world for him, and he really, really liked it.
I left for California early.
When Lane went to New York, there were more girls.
I did my best to pull away, to keep our distance, because no matter how hard I tried, no matter how many men I fucked or how many years went by, I never stopped loving him. I didn’t think I ever could.
CHAPTER ONE
Lane
“Babe, are you ever going to come to bed?” my boyfriend, Jayden, asked from the doorway to my in-home studio. This was the second time he’d been in tonight. On the one hand, I understood where he was coming from. It was after two in the morning. But he also knew how I worked. I often got up in the middle of the night to paint. When I got lost in a piece, I couldn’t just stop for a hundred different reasons, one being my muse—I would drive myself crazy, fingers twitching and mind spinning with the need to create. Even if I was in bed, I wouldn’t get any sleep anyway. Another was that I had to find the right place to stop painting. It wasn’t simply a matter of setting the paintbrush down.
“I can’t yet,” I said without looking at him, which might make me a dick, but I was working, and I really, really needed to get the background right. After a year and a half together, you’d think he’d know me well enough by now, but the truth was, my art came between us often, even though Jayden was an art agent. He got strangely jealous, as if spending time painting meant I cared less about him. He needed more attention than I could give him sometimes, but I wasn’t sure if that was his fault or mine. I had a feeling I was a shitty boyfriend when I got lost in my zone.
But then, it wasn’t as if Jayden was perfect either. We’d had our struggles—one of them being that art wasn’t the only thing Jayden was jealous of, but anything or anyone I spent time with. He always thought I was doing something I shouldn’t. But as much as I might accidentally forget we were supposed to go out to dinner, or not come to bed on time because I was painting or drawing, I didn’t cheat, and I wasn’t a liar.