Page 93 of Confessions of a Virgin on a Dating App
Deliveries?
I peered up at the top corner of my phone. It was 5:28 p.m.
I suppose I should go as Mom if anything arriv—
The doorbell rang - a sudden, sharp trill that echoed throughout the house and made my skin prickle. I could hear low chatter and shuffling feet from my parents in the kitchen. I wanted to answer the door, but it took a tremendous amount of willpower just to sit upright in bed.
Ow.I instinctively reached toward my aching stomach but pulled away since I knew touching the stitches would make it worse. The pain wasn’t too severe, but I was very sore, and any movement of my abdomen further irritated my incisions.
The pain meds must be starting to wear off.
I heard the squeak of the door opening, and there was muffled but cheery chatter between mymother and whoever was at the door. I heard my mother’s pitch grow louder and higher, as if she were surprised about something.
I peeled the covers off my legs, but they felt heavy and numb after hours stuck in bed. I attempted to slide my body off the edge, but a sudden, sharp tug at my stitches made me freeze and grit my teeth in pain.
Godamnit.
I was stuck. But it didn’t take long to find out who was at the door, because my mother burst into my room right after they left.
Once I saw the glass vase in her hands, with a colorful assortment of flowers sprouting out in all directions, I felt my face turning red. The sensation of my heart fluttering and my stomach dropping at the same time made it feel like I was in freefall.
“Avie!” My mother exclaimed in her usual excited-squeaky voice as she entered the room. “Look what arrived for you!”
I was a stone statue in bed, able to hear my rapid heartbeat pounding in my ears, as she set the vase of flowers on my windowsill.
“That’s not all,” my mother continued, pointing out the door and into the hallway. “The lady also dropped off a large bag of takeout food. It smells delicious; the bag says it’s from a place called Olive Tree Café?”
Dev…
I felt like I was going to melt into a lovesick, overwhelmed puddle.
He’d sent me flowers. No guy, in my entire life, had ever sent me flowers.
And food. From my favorite restaurant in Orlando.
My first instinct was to shoot out of bed, grab my phone, and text Devin that he was a wonderful, far too generousboyfriend and that I loved him very much. But of course, I couldn’t do that without my mother becoming suspicious.
“Any idea who sent these, my dear?” she asked, inspecting the flowers by the window. “There’s no card.”
A faint chuckle escaped me.Clever, Devin.
“My friends,” I blurted out, in a manner too abrupt and panicky for it to be true.
But whether my mother believed me or not, she didn’t pry further. She offered to help me walk to the kitchen so I could eat dinner with my parents, but I excused myself to the restroom first, making sure my phone was tucked away in my pocket.
“Do you need help, dear?”
“No,” I replied, my throat choking up as I tried to hide how much the stitches hurt. “I’ll be fine. I’ll meet you and Dad out there.”
Once I was settled on the toilet seat and my stitches no longer felt tense and achy, I fired off a few quick messages to Devin.
Dev…you didn’t have to do this.
So I take it the goods arrived?
Yes. You sent the flowers and food?
Yup! Avie, you had surgery and I’m not able to see you while you’re recovering. Of course I’m going to send you flowers. And I figured you and your family would be tired after today and not up for cooking. So, enjoy the food.
