Virgin(19)

“That’s . . . that’s awful,” I whispered, trying to erase the very vivid image from my mind.

She nodded slowly. “If it hadn’t happened to her, I never would have believed it. It sounds like one of those urban myths, but, unfortunately for Alex, it was true. Some might call it karma,” she added with a grin.

I let out a shocked laugh.

“Anyway,” she said, “I’m so glad we’re hanging out. You’re definitely the most normal person I’ve met in our course so far.”

“Same here,” I said, smiling at her warmly and realizing how true it was. “Although that’s really not saying much,” I joked, and she rolled her eyes at me. “Honestly, though, sometimes I feel kind of distant from the rest of them. They’re fun and everything, but I’m never sure how much I have in common with them,” I admitted.

“I know,” she cried out. “Like, why do we always have to drink red wine and pretend we hate pop music? Sometimes I just want to embrace my inner mainstream self. In fact,” she said as she raised her glass in the air, “here’s to not being cool and not giving a fuck.”

We clinked our glasses together, laughing, and she called the waiter to bring us more cocktails. He was young and cute, and I shot him my most flirtatious smile but he didn’t seem to notice. Emma, meanwhile, was beyond subtle smiles and eye contact. She flirted openly with him, and wrote her number on the bill when we paid two hours later. When we left, she winked at him and he grinned back at her.

“I can’t believe you did that, Emma. You’re so brave,” I slurred as we left the pub.

She laughed. “He was so cute I had no choice. My inner lust for him was so overpowering that I just fell prey to my desires. Here’s hoping he calls . . .”

“Will you care if he doesn’t?”

“God, no! He’s a waiter in a bar. There are hundreds of those all over London. Who cares if one of them doesn’t fancy me back? He might have a girlfriend already, or be gay—except I do have a pretty good gaydar—or he might just not like blondes.”

“You’re my new idol, Emma,” I said as I tripped over a jagged paving stone.

“Oh-kaaay, little lady, that’s good to know. But I reckon we should get you home before you throw up all over your new idol.”

“I’m not that drunk,” I said as she bundled me into a cab and told the cabdriver an address that wasn’t mine. I laid my head on her furry leopard-print coat and closed my eyes.





 I woke up with a headache and saw flashing lights in front of me. I blinked a few times and realized they were fairy lights. Different-colored ones encased in paper stars, carefully positioned to illuminate a life-sized poster of Rihanna. I looked down and saw that I was stripped down to my underwear and my half-naked body was barely covered by a zebra-print duvet cover.

“Emma?” I called out, my voice creaking as though it hadn’t been used in days.

The door creaked open and she rolled in, wearing a hot pink dressing gown, carrying two floral mugs. “Hiya! I brought tea.”

Gratefully I took a mug from her and eased myself up onto my elbows, wincing as a sharp pain shot across my head. “Thanks so much for letting me stay here yesterday.”

“No worries. There was no way I was letting you go home alone in that state. Anyway, I don’t know if you can stomach it but there’s kind of a party happening tonight that you should totally come to.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. I feel like I’m dying.”

“It’s the Easter holidays! We have no lectures, and as you told me about a million times last night, you officially have nothing to do back in Guildford. So I can’t think of a single reason why you shouldn’t come.”

I groaned. “Emma, I’m an emotional wreck. My best friend doesn’t want to know me anymore, I spend my free time eating ice cream alone, and when I do persuade someone to hang out with me, I don’t shut up about all of the above. Why do you want me to come to this party with you?”

“Stop self-pitying, Ellie Kolstakis,” she said in a mock-mum voice, before putting her cup down and looking me in the eyes. “When you’re not moaning about how crappy your life is, you’re hilarious and loads of fun. So I think you should have a shower, then come sit on the sofa with me and watch that new series everyone is obsessed with, and then we can get glammed up and hit the party. How does that sound?”

“It definitely sounds more appealing than going back to my place and packing up all my stuff to take home.”

“Exactly. And then I promise you can go home to your family tomorrow and I’ll leave you alone. For now, though, take these.” She threw me a towel and some tracksuit bottoms. “Get showered up. I can’t wait to put you in one of my outfits tonight. You’re going to look so hot.”