Filling up the Virgin(207)

“God, that was amazing,” Matt said as I wiped my face on his pant legs. “Hey, those are Italian!”

“You're complaining?” I smirked at him.

He snorted and shook his head. “Hell no. That was the best time I've ever had with a girl.”

I got up and straightened my clothes and hair. I didn't want to go back down to the party looking like I'd just been down on my knees. Setting aside how embarrassing that would be, it would raise questions that I would never be able to answer. I supposed that I could maybe make up a story about meeting a guy at the party, but there was too much chance that someone, anyone, might have seen me and Matt leaving the party together. That could lead to scandal.

Matt zipped his pants. “You're amazing, babe,” he whispered. He leaned in to kiss me.

I pulled away and turned my face from him. “Don't.”

“What?” He laughed and shook his head. “Don't go telling me that you're getting all shy now. Not after what you just did.”

“I gave you what you wanted,” I said, refusing to look at him. “It...it's not going to happen again.”

My chest felt tight. I'd wanted this to happen. Deep down, I knew I had. But I was ashamed of myself. For wanting him. For giving in to temptation. For letting my defenses down. But most of all, I was ashamed that I still wanted more.

“Anne...”

“Don't.” I stepped away from him, heading for the stairs. “Please, just don't.”

He followed, but kept his distance. We headed back down to the party, entering through separate doors. I avoided him for the rest of the night.

When it was almost time to leave, my mother found me. “Anne! There you are. Where have you been? And why is your dress all dirty?”

I looked down at my skirt and saw black stains from where I'd knelt on the rooftop. “I...I fell. But I'm fine.”

“Dear, what's wrong?” She cupped my face with her hand, as if checking for a fever. “You're all red. Is everything okay?”

I caught Matt's eyes from across the room. “Yeah, Mom. Everything's fine.”



* * *





I tried to avoid Matt for a while after that. I skipped a few of the gatherings I was invited to over the next few months. When I couldn't get out of attending an event, I stayed away from him, hoping he would leave me alone. Though at the same time, I missed him. He brought out a wild side of me that I hadn't even known I'd had. I craved the feel of his skin against mine, the rush of his motorcycle between my legs, the scent of his manly sweat. But like an addict trying to stay on the wagon, I did my best to avoid him.

And I did just fine until my stepfather got sick.

I rushed into the hospital late one night, clutching my jacket around myself. It was a frigid evening, and pockets of snow from earlier in the winter still covered parts of the ground. The heat of the emergency room blasted me in the face as soon as I left the cold night behind. I looked around the room, searching for my mother. She was sitting in the waiting room, clutching her hands in front of her and crying. Matt sat next to her, rubbing her back and speaking softly to her.

“What happened?” I asked as I approached them. My mother had frantically called me a short time before, telling me that my stepfather had suffered an attack, but she hadn't offered any details. She had been too upset to talk.

Matt got up and pulled me aside, giving my mother some space. “Dad had a stroke,” he said. “The doctors are with him now. But it doesn't look good.”

“Oh, Matt. I'm so sorry.” I put my arms around him and held him close. He leaned his head against my shoulder. I could feel the tension in his muscles. I could only imagine what he was going through. I didn't know what it was like to lose a parent. My own dad had walked out on us, but he was still alive, even if we barely spoke anymore.

“I'm fine,” Matt said. He clung to me as if I were the only thing keeping him from breaking down. “I've been ready for this for a while. Dad's not a young man. But it was...so sudden.”

My mind raced, trying to think about what I should do. I really didn't know Mr. Partridge very well. We'd chatted here and there, but he'd never made any real effort to get to know me. I didn't even think he'd made the effort to get to know my mother, outside of the bedroom at least. It made it hard for me to mourn for him. I felt bad, but losing him wouldn't touch me deep inside the way it would if I'd lost my own father.

But Matt was being hit hard. And I needed to comfort him.

One of the doctors came out to talk to us. She said that Mr. Partridge was conscious, and that it would be okay for my mother to go in and talk to him. But they didn't want to disturb him by having a crowd inside the room, so Matt and I would have to wait out here.