Page 6 of Ruined

At nineteen, I’m still a virgin. I’ve barely even kissed anyone—just a guy at a graduation party a few months ago. He was drunk, sloppy, and far too young and inexperienced. Even though I tried to enjoy it, the experience made me even more sure of my preferences.

“Give me your dating profile,” Nico says suddenly.

My mouth drops open. “What?”

“Well, you’re on the apps, aren’t you?”

I want to lie, but Nico’s very persuasive, and he kind of looks like he genuinely wants to help. I hand him my phone and open the hookup app I’ve explored a bit.

After the conversation with my brother, Mason, a few weeks ago, I created the dating profile in the hopes of getting over a certain someone. I don’t even show my face properly, but somehow I get daily messages from guys sending me dick pics out of nowhere. Every time it happens, I close the app, heart racing with a mix of disgust and excitement.

Other chats have been more chill and respectful. I was supposed to meet up with a guy a few weeks ago, but I chickened out. I don’t know why. I just didn’t feel ready. Also, he wasn’t really my type. Too young and ripped. The type of guy I’d convinced myself I’m supposed to like. Lane and Mason get along fine, and they’re close in age. That’s the type of relationship I convinced myself I’m supposed to want, even though they’re really annoying together.

Luca sits next to Nico and glances at my phone. “Your profile pics are fine, I guess.”

My face burns, mortified at him seeing the half-hearted shirtless pics I snapped in my old room at Mom’s house.

“I thought you liked older guys,” Luca says, frowning as he scrolls through my settings. “Why is your age range set so low?”

“I didn’t know you could change it,” I lie. I do know; I just wanted to see if I really was as disinterested in guys my age as I thought. Turns out, I am.

Luca goes back to my profile. He tuts at what he sees in my description. “See, you can’t say you’re nineteen. That will attract the creeps.”

I raise a defensive brow. “But I am nineteen.”

“He’s right,” Nico says. “Change it to twenty-three or something. Just to weed out the creeps.”

Nico shows me my phone, where they’ve set the age range from thirty to forty-five and my age to twenty-three.

They’re actually helpful. Maybe this is exactly what I need to get over Logan. Meet someone else. Someone older. Someone who looks and acts like him but isn’t him.

Luca gets himself and Nico another round of drinks, and their voices turn to background noise as I scroll through the profiles on the app. Despite the new age range setting, most guys have clean-shaven jaws and ripped bodies. Not what I’m looking for. I’m looking for…

Him. I land on the profile of a man who’s sitting down. He’s got a white T-shirt on, and his belly bulges a little over his slacks. His hand is subtly but suggestively placed by the crease of his thigh, right by his groin. It looks massive. All of him does. The picture cuts off above his muscular chest and shoulders.

His username says “North43,” and his profile information tells me he’s forty-three years old and six foot five, which is… tall, especially compared to my five-foot-nine frame. For “position,” it says “top.”

Something tugs deep inside me—a jolt of something hot and forbidden and so thrilling it scares me. None of the other guys I’ve seen on this app have done this to me, but the man in the picture looks so confident and self-assured. Grounded. Calm. Even though I can’t see his face, I can tell he knows what he’s doing, and that he’d know what to do when, um, doing the deed.

All kinds of scenarios pop up in my head. Kneeling between his legs. Burying my face in his crotch and inhaling deeply. Getting my face pressed into the mattress while he…

I gulp, face turning hot. Ever since I came to terms with being gay, this is what I’ve fantasized about. Somehow, my desires latched onto the one man I should never want, but maybe North43 will fix it? Maybe he could make me forget all about Logan. Even if it’s just for one night.

One casual hookup that would open me up to new experiences—experiences that have nothing to do with getting hard to memories of Logan’s tight hugs or the way his gentle eyes crinkled when he smiled and called me “Ollie.”

Somewhere along the line, my idolization of him turned into a silly crush, and then he left our family behind. As the years passed, my crush turned into something even more forbidden.

Most of the time, remembering him makes me sad. But sometimes it makes me horny. Sometimes both. Yeah, it makes no sense, but I’ve tried to control it again and again and failed, so I need another tactic. Sleeping with the man in the picture will fix me. Probably. Hopefully. And even if it doesn’t, I still want to sleep with him.

The problem is, I have no idea how to make that happen. Messaging him seems like the first step, though.

Adrenaline running through my veins, I type out a “Hi” with sweaty fingers. Then I wait with bated breath, as if North43 will see my message right away and reply.

He doesn’t. Minutes pass without anything happening, and I’m both disappointed and relieved.

Luca stands up. “I need to get ready.”

“Call me if you need to get out,” Nico mutters, and they exchange a knowing look that I can’t interpret.