“I’m saying,” he replies, eyes lingering on me, “my dick would ruin you for other guys.” Then, bitterly, “It’s the one thing I’ve got going for me. Women don’t want the rest.”
I gawk for a moment. “I— Uh, I’m not little.” Is all I manage. I grip my fat thighs, which strain my pajama bottoms.
“Youarelittle. You’re just short and thick.”
And then, he does that thing I freaking hate about guys: he flips the conversation back to casual talk, asking about the movie. Pretending he didn’t just say something so personal.
I cross my arms and sulk. “Well, I hope you get the girl you want.”
He snickers. “I hope you find a loser like you and finally get laid.”
That one hits harder than it should. I’m used to cruel jabs, but still... he just opened up to me. I let down my guard.
Besides, what are the chances I’ll ever find someone willing to sleep with me?
I sniffle, swallowing back tears — the kind that always sneak up when I’m reminded the love I want will never happen.
“That’s not funny,” I mumble.
“What’s not?”
I suck in a breath.
Don’t let him see you cry or freak out, Charlotte. It’ll just make it worse.
I compose myself and clarify: “It’s not funny that I’m a virgin because no one’s ever wanted me like that. That I’ll always be a virgin. Because I’m too—”
Ugly. Weird. Unfuckable.
But I swallow those words down like poison.
He tilts his head, perhaps seeing how much I’m hurting as tears escape and roll down my cheek. I quickly wipe them away and sit straighter.
He lowers his voice. “Look, a guy’ll fuck you. If you got some practice, sex wouldn’t be a big deal.” Like it’s sosimple.Like I could just walk outside and throw it at someone — anyone.
I sigh, deflated. “Grayson, you’re wrong. It is a big deal. It’s a big deal that nobody will touch a pig like me. I just... I just wanted to feel happy today. I love this movie. Can I at least have that?”
His forehead scrunches, but he nods. “Fine. Sorry. Enjoy your fantasy.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper, though my voice wobbles. I have to suck in a sob to keep it together.
“Jesus,” he mutters. “You poor fucking thing.”
I flinch, humiliated. I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t even know why I’m so upset. My sad love life is not new information. I shouldn’t have—
The couchcreaks.
Then shifts.
I stiffen as Grayson moves closer, his body heat suddenly right there. Close enough that his thigh brushes mine, solid and heavy. I freeze.
“No guy’s touched you, huh?” he asks, voice low, almost curious. He doesn’t believe me.
I manage a small nod.
He studies me. Silent. But something in my gut tells me he’s thinking things I don’t quite understand.
“So you have no clue what you’re doing with guys?” he says, more to himself than to me.
