Page 5 of The Book of Legends
My ears burn, and I know I must be blushing. Heat spreads across my cheeks. I didn’t think he remembered that night the way I did. “I was surprised. How I said yes. How I gave him what I thought I wouldn’t give anyone.”
My virginity.
“I would be stupid not to.”
My stomach twists into knots—a mixture of excitement and dread. I don’t know how to feel about that night. I’ve spent so much time trying to forget it—trying not to let it ruin what we have. The highs and lows, but I’m glad it was him, not some random guy I picked to get it over with.
Who knows if I ever would have gotten the chance? Micah was there. He made me feel wanted. He made me feel good, even though I couldn’t see his face and everything was blurry.
It helped that I found him attractive—the brown hair, the lean body, the cute dimples. The boy-next-door charm that girls always fell for. But I don’t know why he would bring it up now, seven months later.
Does he want more? Is this what my aunt meant when she told me to fall in love? “But we’re friends,” I say, trying to sound casual, trying not to sound like my pulse is hammering in my ears.
“Yeah, of course we are. Best friends. Nothing changes that. I promise.”
I let out a breath. Then why does it feel like something has already changed?
“The memory of that night just snuck into my mind,” he says. “And I wanted to know if you thought about it sometimes.”
The truth is, it happened, even if he wants it to stay between us.
He said the same thing that night—that nothing would change between us.
I held back my tears then, the same way I’m holding them back now.
It wasn’t like I expected anything more from him just because I agreed to sleep with him—just acknowledgment. He didn’t need to label us or anything. I just wanted to belong to him.
But once it was over, the moment went up like a cloud of smoke.
It took everything in me to bury the memory, to pretend it never happened and never, under any circumstance, bring it up. Even though part of me didn’t want to forget.
At the time, there was hope for a repeat, but the next day at school, he acted like nothing happened—like we didn’t share something monumental and hadn’t held my heart in the palm of his hand.
I cried alone in my room that night, but I would never tell him how much his dejection hurt.
I remember feeling like Cinderella at midnight. As soon as my glasses were back on, the magic was gone.
“Right,” I say. “It just happened, and it stays between us.”
I repeat his words back to him, trying to sound unaffected, trying to save myself from wallowing in self-pity.
But something inside me stirs. I should leave it alone.
But instead, I find myself pushing. “Do you want me to come over?”
Silence.
“Now?” he asks, surprised. “Uh… do you think that’s a good idea? I would come over, but I have class in the morning.”
My stomach drops, taking a nosedive for my self-esteem.
I hear it before he speaks: the sound of someone laughing in the background, then someone saying his name.
Then, I hear it: someone laughs in the background and then calls his name.
He doesn’t want me there.
His teammates. Maybe Dereck was right about me. I think back to that night when I called Micah before bed and overheard Dereck’s snide remark in the background—that I was needy.
