Page 42 of Mr. Romantic (Mister 2)

Claudette is still pounding on the front door to the room. In fact, she might be kicking it.

“I just…”

“Wait,” I say, putting the pieces together. “No. It’s not possible. You’re… you were a virgin? Jesus Christ, Ivy! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She jumps up from the bed as I pull on some shorts. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” I look around for her clothes, realize she came here in a bathing suit, and then fish through my drawers until I come up with a shorts and t-shirt for her too. “Put these on,” I say, throwing them at her.

“Why are you mad?”

I grab my hair to think this through as I pace the room. Claudette is still throwing her fit. “I took your virginity?”

Ivy pulls the shorts up and then hastily drags the t-shirt over her head. “Why are you mad about it?”

“Why didn’t you say something? Holy shit. I fucked you hard, Ivy. You can’t tell me that it felt good!”

“Some of it did.”

“Some of it?” I just shake my head at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” When she says nothing I get angry. “Ivy Rockwell, I need that fucking answer. Now.”

“Because you might not have wanted to.”

“Is this the reason you came here? To trick me into taking your virginity?”

“You’re the one who invited me here!” she yells. “You came on to me!”

I need to calm down. I need a deep breath and about ten minutes to think about this, and I can’t fucking do that with my goddamned sister screaming outside.

“I didn’t trick you, Nolan,” Ivy says.

“But you didn’t tell me, either. Why not? And don’t say because I might have put a stop to it. That’s fucking lame. It’s my right not to fuck you, isn’t it? So what you did, Ivy, was fucking dishonest. Do you have any idea how bad this looks from my point of view?”

“Nolan, look—”

But before Ivy can finish, Claudette comes barging in, having apparently given up hope that I will answer the door and used her master key. “Get away from him, Ivy.”

“Jesus Christ. I’m not dangerous, Claudette. She doesn’t need your protection. Believe me, she’s got her secrets too.”

“That’s why I’m here, Nolan. She certainly does have her secrets. Did you know she lied on her résumé?”

“I did not lie!” Ivy yells.

“Are you trying to tell me that you actually did graduate Brown with an MBA, Ivy? Because I’ve already checked, honey. You’re as fake as that blonde hair you have.”

“I don’t dye my hair!”

“Enough!” I say. “Enough. Now what the fuck is going on here?”

“That résumé she sent us is a lie!” Claudette yells.

“I didn’t send you people a résumé! You came knocking on my door!” Ivy’s face is red and she’s breathing hard, clutching the t-shirt at her chest like she needs something to hold onto.

I took her virginity. I made her give me a blow job. I flipped her over and fucked her hard. I thought she was screaming out of pleasure, but it was fake. It was all a lie.

I hold absolutely still. And in that moment, everything goes still. Ivy goes still. Claudette goes still. And there are about three seconds of complete silence before I look at Ivy.

“You lied to me.”