Page 16 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

And like the pussy I am, I escape from my own personal hell without my keys, my phone, or my shoes.

I’m so fucked.

8

“And then he ran out the door like his pants were on fire without any shoes on!”

“Oh my god, this is the best thing I’ve ever heard. Tell it again. But this time, with more pizazz,” Livy taunts with jazz hands.

Yes, I called Olivia and begged her to come over immediately to rescue me from this nightmare. No, I didn’t call my sister. Sisters tell each other everything, but I omitted telling her about the giant blue dildo I ordered because I’m so horny living with Connor I might combust.

“Livyyyyy, what am I going to do? Do you think he knows? Oh god, he knows, doesn’t he? I have to move out. Can I move in with you? I bet my boxes are still in the dumpster!” I move to run out the front door, but Olivia blocks me.

“Slow down, babe. You’re talking faster than me and it’s freaking me out.” She gently coaxes me back to the couch and to sip some water.

“It doesn’t matter if he knows or not, honestly.” My eyebrows hit my hairline. “I mean, he might’ve figured out the gist of it, but either way, you have to move forward. Just act like it never happened and let it blow over. He sure as hell isn’t going to bring it up, so why torture yourself?”

He knows. I know he knows. Does he know that I know he knows?

I hope there’s somewhere nice on the ranch Izzy can bury me because I’m going to die from mortification.

“Livyyyyy!” I repeat, louder and whinier. “I don’t have the brain capacity for this! I have finals in a couple of weeks, and I’m supposed to be focusing all my energy on studying. Not obsessing that my best friend knows I need a silicone friend to help me get off!”

“Everyone masturbates. It’s not a big deal. You don’t think he’s choking his chicken on the reg?” Olivia asks plainly, like she’s asking what time it is.

When did I miss the day everyone became cool about sex? I’m not a virgin. But I might as well be because it’s been years…

Junior year of high school, I wanted to get it over with and lose my virginity on my terms. Izzy’s assault two years prior destroyed her, and I needed to control my first time. In retrospect, I wasn’t ready. But what’s done is done. It’s not like I was the only one my age fooling around.

The week before school ended, I went to a ranch party and ended up dancing with a boy I had a crush on. Peter Rickard was sweet enough. He was on the baseball team, didn’t get into trouble, and most importantly, looked nothing like Connor.

I’ve always stayed far away from men who reminded me of the man of my dreams. It’d be like hooking up with the store brand because I can’t afford the name brand.

Since I was old enough to know what sex was, I’d dreamed Connor would be my first.

But we’d remained firmly “just friends” and he’d already lost his virginity. He was about to graduate and wouldn’t want to waste his time with high school girls like me. So, I settled.

Peter was nice and cute enough, so when he invited me to one of the bedrooms, I went. I wasn’t turned on. I didn’t know at the time arousal was a key element to enjoyable sex, so I wasn’t wet at all. I was nervous but determined to get it over with.

He was as nervous as me, maybe he was a virgin too. We shared a few closed mouth kisses before I took off my panties from beneath my sundress and laid prone on the strange bed. Shoes on and everything.

He stood there staring at me like this couldn’t possibly be happening. He met my eyes, and I smiled tightly, giving him whatever permission he was seeking because he undid his jeans and took himself out.

I looked away—which should’ve been a glaring red flag I wasn’t ready—while he fumbled a condom on. He knelt beside me on the bed, and I spread my legs so he could kneel between my thighs.

He asked me if I was okay. I said yes.

He asked if I was sure. I said yes.

He asked if I was ready. I could only nod my head.

I felt foreign pressure, but he couldn’t get in because I wasn’t wet. He lubricated himself with saliva and started pressing into me again. He met resistance and froze—I told him to just do it. So, he did.

How romantic, right?

He pushed into me, and I cried out in pain. He pulled out in a panic checking if I was okay. We both saw my virgin blood on his penis and that was all she wrote. We straightened our clothes, left the bedroom and I went home.

It was weird though. Monday after the party, Peter didn’t show up at school. There were rumors he’d been in an accident and was too hurt to finish the last week of school. I didn’t bother checking on him or sending him a “get-well-soon.” It would’ve been a hollow gesture.