Chapter 1
Sarah sets the shot glass down in front of me with a wicked grin.
“Drink up, birthday girl.”
“What’s this?” I stare down at the concoction in front of me. I don’t recognize the contents, but knowing Sarah, it can’t be anything good.
“It’s called a Redheaded Slut,” Sarah says. Her already Cheshire-Cat-like grin stretches out even wider. “Jägermeister, peach schnapps and cranberry juice. The name seemed perfect for you.”
I roll my eyes. “Maybe in opposite world. Do they make a virgin version?” I may be redheaded, but no one could accuse me of being a slut, that’s for sure.
“I think that would just be called cranberry juice,” Sarah teases, then pretends to pout. “And what would be the point in that?”
“Thanks a lot.” I sigh.
“Come on. I didn’t mean it like that,” she insists, although I know she did a little bit. Sarah and I have argued about this so many times, I’ve lost count. She’s my best friend, but she just doesn’t understand why, after all this time, I’m still virgin.
To be honest, I don’t really understand it either. But I look at most guys, and all I feel is… meh.
Just… meh.
In my whole life, there’s only been one guy I ever felt something for. Only one guy who’s ever given me that fluttery feeling I’m always reading about in books. That guy was my dad’s former business partner, Jacob Bradley. But there are so many things wrong with that, I don’t even know where to begin. He worked with my dad, he’s way older than me, and, oh yeah, he’s currently serving a four-year prison term for insider trading.
Not exactly boyfriend material.
“Just do the shot with me, okay?” Sarah says. “Look, I’ve got one too. I’m not redheaded and you’re not a slut, but together we cover all the bases.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Fine. I’ll do the shot with you.”
“Yay!” Sarah is so easy to please. Being friends with her has always felt natural, ever since the first day we met. We were in kindergarten, and we both wanted to play with the same doll, so we were forced to share. We still laugh at the memory, and refer to that time as ‘when we had joint custody of Becky.’ It’s just one of our thousands of inside jokes.
“Ready?” Sarah asks now, holding her shot glass up to her shimmery pink lips.
“Ready.” I pick up my own glass and then join her in throwing it back. I’m expecting it to be foul but it’s actually surprisingly tasty, even though it burns a little going down.
“Whew!” We both exclaim in unison, slamming our empty glasses down on the high-top table we’re sitting at.
Sarah had insisted on taking me out to a club for my birthday, even though I wasn’t really much of a club person. It was my twenty-first birthday, she pointed out, and what was the fun of being legal if I wasn’t going to take advantage of my newly acquired legal privileges?
And that was how we had ended up at Club Malibu on a hot Saturday night, drinking Redheaded Sluts and tapping our feet along to the throbbing dance music.
“I think we should go dance,” Sarah announces.
“I don’t think so,” I say, shaking my head and wrinkling my nose. I don’t mean to be such a stick in the mud, but dancing is so not my forte. I have the moves of a newborn giraffe, and my lanky frame is about as graceful.
But Sarah looks determined. “We’re either going to go dance or we’re doing more shots. Take your pick.”
She folds her arms and puts on her most serious expression, so I know she means business. I laugh, throwing my hands up.
“Fine,” I relent. “Let’s go dance. I don’t think I could do another shot unless you want to be picking me up off the floor.”
“Well, for the record, picking you up off the floor on your birthday is exactly what best friends are for,” she says grinning. “But I’ll accept dancing for now.”
We make our way out onto the crowded dance floor and start grinding to the beat. Though the rest of the club isn’t too crowded, it’s wall-to-wall people out here, and I instantly feel about ten degrees warmer with all those pulsing sweaty bodies flanking me.
Luckily the crowd also makes a good camouflage for my awkward dance moves, and after a few minutes I actually start to feel myself loosen up. I let Sarah spin me in a circle and dip me dramatically, like we’re in a Gene Kelly movie instead of a sexy club.
It’s from this horizontal dip position that I spot the two guys making their way towards us. I awkwardly wrench myself back to standing and try to get Sarah’s attention.
They appear at our sides almost instantly and start dancing with us. They aren’t exactly good dancers — they just do that grinding thing that all guys seem to do in clubs like this. The one who sidles up to me looks to be about my age, with spiky blonde hair and a gold cross earring in one ear. I can see a faint blonde mustache inching across his upper lip.
The guy dancing up on Sarah is slightly better looking, with slicked back dark hair and a tight black t-shirt. She seems to be having fun so I force myself to smile at Blondie and let him keep dancing with me.
As the music intensifies, though, so do their moves — and not in a good way. Soon Blondie is really grinding up on me and I realize with a shock that I can feel his erection pressing up against me from behind. I turn around to express my surprise, but he just grins and makes a lewd gesture with his mouth.
I grab Sarah’s arm and pull her off the dance floor.
“What are you doing?” she hisses at me, looking back forlornly at her dance-floor Romeo.
“He had an erection,” I whisper. Or at least, I try to whisper. I actually have to shout it for her to hear me over the music.
Sarah laughs. “So? They wanted to have some fun. That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”
I put my hands on my hips. “You know I don’t… have that kind of fun.”
Sarah rolls her eyes. “Come on, Lily. Can we stop this already? You’re like a little old lady in a hot twenty-one-year-old body.”
I smile at that. She’s not wrong — most nights, my idea of fun is sitting home with Dad, drinking tea and watching Family Feud.
“I do have fun,” I promise her.
“Yeah, but you don’t have sex, and that’s the best kind of fun.” She flashes me a wicked grin.
I gnaw at my lip. I can’t really argue with her because I have no idea if what she’s saying is true or not. Having never had sex, I have no idea how it compares to, say, watching Family Feud or getting a pedicure. I’m sure it can’t be that much better though… right?
I glance back out at the dance floor, to where Blondie and his dark-haired friend have already moved on to another couple of girls. For a second, I let myself imagine what it would be like to have sex with him. To feel his fingers pinch my nipples. To feel his tongue against my clit. To finally feel someone’s cock slamming into my tight wet pussy.
But all I feel is… meh.
The thought of letting Blondie, or someone like him, be the one to take my virginity is just too depressing for words.
“I think you should go for it,” I tell Sarah honestly. “There’s no reason my boring life should interfere with your chance to have fun.”
Sarah looks offended that I would even suggest such a thing. “I’m not going to ditch you for a guy,” she says, appalled. “Especially not on your birthday. Seriously. I’m sorry I keep trying to push you — I respect your position even if I don’t totally understand it. So, let’s get out of here and do something you want to do instead. What do you think?”
I grin. “I think that sounds great. Dessert?”
“Dessert would fabulous. What about that cheesecake place you wanted to try? It’s just a couple of blocks away, isn’t it?”
She offers me her arm and I slip mine through hers gratefully.
“Cheesecake,” I say, as I let her lead me out of the club. “Now that’s the perfect birthday.”
I may not have had sex before, but I think I can safely say there’s no way it can compare to the pleasure of really good cheesecake.
Right?