I was only fourteen when I lost my virginity to Jake Gaither. He’d recently turned eighteen, and I knew perfectly well
that he was too old for me. Still, as a freshman in high school, I just wanted a boyfriend. I wanted to be liked and to
fit in, and Jake was a senior with a car. At the time, I thought of that as perfection.
In the three months we were together, Jake never took me out on a real date. Once or twice, we made out in the
back of a dark movie theater, but we never went out to dinner or bowling or anything like that. We spent most of our
time sneaking around so that our parents and his sister, who later became one of my best friends, wouldn’t find out
about us. I actually found that part, the secrecy, fun and sexy. It was like a forbidden romance—like Romeo and
Juliet, which I’d read in English class that semester.
We slept together several times, and while I really didn’t enjoy the actual sex, the sensation of closeness, of
connection, felt comforting to me. When Jake touched me like that, I knew he loved me. I knew sex was a beautiful,
passionate thing, and it was right to be with him.
Sleeping with Wesley Rush was entirely different. While I definitely got more physical pleasure out of it, the
closeness and the love were missing. When it was over, I felt dirty. I felt like I’d done something wrong and
shameful, but at the same time, I felt good. Alive. Free. Wild. My mind was totally cleared, like someone had hit the
refresh button. I knew the euphoria wouldn’t last forever, but the filthy regret was worth the momentary escape.
“Wow,” Wesley said. We were lying in his bed only a few minutes after we’d finished, with a foot or more space
between our bodies. “I definitely wasn’t expecting that.”
God, he ruined everything when he talked. Annoyed, and still wading through the emotional repercussions, I
sneered. “What? Ashamed that you screwed the Duff?”
“No.” I was surprised by how serious he sounded. “I’m never ashamed of anyone I sleep with. Sex is a natural
chemical reaction. It always happens for a reason. Who am I to dictate who experiences the joy of sharing my
bed?” He didn’t see me roll my eyes as he continued. “No, I just meant that I’m shocked. I was honestly starting to
believe that you hated me.”
“I do hate you,” I assured him, kicking off the covers and moving to pick up my clothes.
“You must not hate me too much,” Wesley said, rolling onto his elbow and watching me dress. “You did pretty much
throw yourself at me. Generally, hatred doesn’t inspire that kind of passion.”
I pulled on my T-shirt. “Believe me, Wesley, I definitely hate you. I was just using you. You use people all the time, so
I’m sure you understand.” I buttoned my jeans and grabbed my alligator clip from the nightstand. “This was fun, but
if you ever tell anyone, I swear I’ll castrate you. Clear?”
“Why?” he asked. “Your reputation could only improve if people found out you slept with me.”
“That might be true,” I admitted. “But I have no desire to improve my reputation, especially not that way. So are you
going to keep your mouth shut or do I need to find a sharp object now?”
“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” he said.
“You’re not a gentleman.” I put my hair back up in the clip. “That’s why I’m worried.” I glanced at my reflection in the
full-length mirror on the wall. Once I was sure that I looked normal—not guilty—I turned to face Wesley again. “Hurry
up and put your pants on. We need to finish this stupid essay.”
It was a little after seven that night when Wesley and I finally finished the essay for English. Or at least, we finished
the rough copy. I made him promise that he’d e-mail me the draft later so that I could edit it.
“You don’t trust me to get it done?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me as I put my shoes on in the foyer.
“I don’t trust you with anything,” I said.
“Except getting you off.” He was wearing that grin I hated. “So, was this a one-time thing, or will I be seeing you
again?”
I started to snort, to tell him he was dreaming if he honestly thought I’d be back, but then I remembered that I was
about to go back home. The manila envelope would probably still be lying on my kitchen table.
“Bianca?” Wesley asked. A shiver ran across my skin when he touched my shoulder. “Are you all right?”
I jerked out of his reach and moved toward the door. I’d gotten halfway out before I turned to him and said, with a
moment of hesitation, “We’ll see.” Then I ran down the front steps.
“Bianca, wait.”
I clutched my jacket closer to me, trying to fight the cold wind, and yanked open the door of my Saturn. He was
behind me in seconds, but, thankfully, he didn’t touch me this time. “What?” I demanded as I slid into the front seat.
“I need to get home.”
Home, the last place I wanted to go.
The winter sky had already turned black, but I could still see Wesley’s gray eyes in the darkness. They were exactly
the color of the sky before a thunderstorm. He crouched down by my door to get to my eye level, and the way he
was looking at me made me really uncomfortable. “You didn’t answer the other question.”
“What other question?”
“Are you all right?”
I scowled at him for a long moment, assuming he was just trying to be a pain in my ass. But something about his
lighted eyes made me hesitate. “It doesn’t matter if I am or not,” I whispered. I started my car, and he darted out of
the way when I moved to slam the door shut. “Bye, Wesley.”
And I drove away.
When I got home, Dad was still in his bedroom. I finished cleaning up the living room, avoiding the kitchen
altogether, and ran upstairs to take a shower. The hot water didn’t wash away the dirty feeling Wesley had left on
my skin, but it did relax some muscles that were forming tense knots in my back and shoulders. I just hoped the dirt
would wash away in time.
I’d barely wrapped a towel around me when my cell phone started ringing in my bedroom, and I sprinted across the
hall to answer it in time.
“Hey, B,” Casey said into my ear. “So are you and Wesley done?”
“What?”
“You two were working on the English project today, weren’t you?” she asked. “I thought he was meeting you at your
place.”
“Oh, right. Well, I wound up going over to his house instead.” I was trying hard not to sound guilty.
“OMG, you mean the mansion?” Casey asked. “Lucky! Did you walk out onto one of the balconies? Vikki said
that’s half the reason she wants to hook up with him again. Last time, it was just in the backseat of his Porsche, but
she really wants to see the inside of that house.”
“Is there a point to this conversation, Casey?”
“Oh, yeah,” she laughed. “Sorry. It’s no big deal. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
What was with everyone asking me that tonight?
“I know you hate him,” she continued. “I wanted to make sure you were fine and that he was okay, too. You didn’t,
like, stab the boy, did you? I mean, I totally disapprove of murdering hotties, but if you need help burying the body,
you know I’ll bring the shovel.”
“Thanks, Casey,” I said. “But he’s alive. Today wasn’t as bad as I expected. Actually,” I almost told her everything.
How Mom and Dad were getting a divorce and how, in a moment of desperation, I’d kissed Wesley Rush, again.
How that kiss had turned into something much, much more. How my body felt dirty all over, yet at the same time
amazingly free. The words lingered on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t make them come out.
Not yet, at least.
“Actually what, B?” she asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.
“Um, nothing. He actually had some good ideas for the paper. That’s it. I guess he’s, like, a Hawthorne freak or
something.”
“Well, that’s good. I know you find smart boys sexy. Are you gonna admit you want him now?”
I froze, not knowing how to respond to this, but Casey was laughing already.
“I’m teasing, but I’m glad things turned out okay. I was a little worried about you today. I just had this feeling that
something bad was going to happen. I guess I was just being paranoid.”
“Probably.”
“I’ve got to go. Jessica wants me to call her with all the details of my meeting with Harrison. She just doesn’t get it,
does she? Anyway, I’ll see you at school on Monday.”
“Okay. Bye, Casey.”
“See you later, B.”
I flipped the cell phone shut and placed it on my nightstand, feeling like a total liar. Technically, I hadn’t lied; I’d only
withheld, but still withholding from Casey was, like, a mortal sin. Especially when she made such a point of
opening herself to my problems.
But I’d tell her eventually. Well, about my parents, at least. I just needed to deal with it myself before I sprang it on
her and Jessica. The Wesley thing, though God, I hoped they’d never find out.
I knelt at the foot of my bed and started folding the clean clothes, like I did every night. Weirdly, I wasn’t as stressed
as I’d expected myself to be. I hated to admit it, but I definitely had Wesley to thank for that.
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