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George laughed again. Lachlan looked uncomfortable, watching Thom intently like he was expecting something to happen.
“At least I’m not an asshole,” I barked at Thom. “At least I have some fucking self-respect.”
Thom’s grin widened, like he was impressed. “Is that so? Did your balls just drop, wee man?” He reached down suddenly, his massive hand heading toward my crotch, and I jumped back, stumbling.
“Thom,” Lachlan said, gripping his arm. “Quit it.”
Thom was laughing, genuinely amused by his own cruelty, and I felt disgust wash over me, at him, at George, at Lachlan for not doing more to stop it, at myself for thinking for even a second that anyone could actually want me when there were guys like Lucien in the world.
And now, everyone I know has had sex, but I’m still a virgin.
I pull my laptop onto the bed, open a new browser window, and create a profile on the Lure dating app my friend Liam uses.
For my main photo, I choose a professional headshot my mom made me take last year. I’m wearing a button-down shirt, my hair is neatly styled, and I’m smiling in a way that looks genuine but not too eager.
I look good. But this is a dating app. Should I pick a more casual photo or a more revealing one? I think about what kind of girl my profile might attract. I decide to keep the more professional-looking one. But I balance my choice by including pictures from my trip to the Mediterranean last summer in the bio section.
There’s one of me on a yacht, shirtless, the sun glinting off the water behind me. Another of me diving off a cliff into turquoise water. Another of me sitting on a beach, my abs clearly visible, my skin tanned and glowing. I have a toned body, so I might as well show it. I go for an interesting and approachable vibe when I describe myself. I mention my love of music—indie bands, mostly. I talk about my major—neuroscience—and my interest in how the brain works. I include a line about loving to travel, another about being a good listener. I want to come across as sensitive. Intelligent. Decent. I don’t want anyone dark or negative. I want someone nice, someone my mom will like.
I pause, staring at the screen.
Would someone like that be eager to take my virginity though?
Would someone gentle and warm want to sleep with a guy who has no experience? Or would they want someone who knows what they’re doing?
I don’t know. I’m not sure I care. I just need this to happen. I need to stop being the guy who’s never had sex. I need to prove to myself that I’m normal. That there’s nothing wrong with me.
I finish the profile and post it.
Then I lie back on my pillow and stare up at the smooth crown molding that runs along the edge of the ceiling.
I wonder if anyone will even notice my profile.
I wonder if anyone will message me.
I wonder if I’m making a mistake.
But I’m too tired to care.
When I wake up, the laptop is still open beside me, the screen glowing faintly in the early-morning light.
There’s a notification.
My heart skips.
I pull the computer toward me, blinking away the sleep, and click on the message.
It’s from a girl named Gwen.
hey, sexy! i see we have a lot in common. we should chat
I stare at the message for a long moment, my pulse quickening.
Sexy.
No one’s ever called me that before.
I click on her profile.