Emma sat back and a thoughtful expression came to her face. “God, you’re so right. I hadn’t really thought about it too much—I just get Brazilians because you can’t leave it natural, and a Hollywood seems a bit weird to me, so I figured this was in the middle. Besides, loads of porn stars have it, guys like it and it’s easy for wearing bikinis and stuff. But, fuck, why don’t magazines talk about it? I would love to know what the rest of the world is doing down there.”
I nodded fervently. “Exactly. Magazines are just hypocritical. They’re meant to tackle female issues but none of them write about how awkward it is to shave your vagina. They don’t even rate hair removal products for how well they work on the bikini zone. They just focus on the safe zones like legs and underarms. It drives me crazy.”
Emma’s eyes lit up in excitement. “Oh my God. We need to publicize this to the world. We need to be the new teenage agony aunts to help all those thirteen-year-olds figure out how to de-hair their vaginas.”
Her enthusiasm was infectious and I started to think our idea could definitely work. “Yeah, you’re right. Some kind of blog about vaginas and sex and awkward things that answers all the questions the government health sites won’t even consider asking.”
“Oh . . . I forgot about all those other sites,” she said. “Don’t they basically do the same things? That would be so annoying if our idea already exists.”
“Trust me, Emma. This is totally my area of expertise. I have Googled everything there is to Google and there are no websites that answer even half of the questions I have. Well, had. Mainly had, obviously. Besides, it would be so good to have it all in one authoritative source to keep coming back to, instead of just trying out a different website each time.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, well, let’s do it,” she said. “So, we’re thinking a blog. Um . . . a vagina agony blog that’s totally based on our own experiences. A vlog? Or, um . . .”
“Oh my God,” I blurted out. “Like . . . a vlog for virgins. Everyone writes sex blogs, but no one ever writes about being a virgin.”
“Virgin?” she asked in confusion.
My face went blank and pale. “Um, like, we could pretend we’re virgins?”
She looked at me.
How the fuck was that the best lie I could come up with?
I could feel my face heating up with humiliation. Neither of us spoke and I bit my bottom lip. Oh God. I was going to have to admit I’d lied to her—that not only was I a virgin, but I was a virgin who had lied about it. I’d fucked up our friendship. She opened her mouth to speak and I interrupted. I had to tell her. She deserved to know the truth.
“I lied to you, Em,” I said, looking down at my cappuccino and feeling very sick. I closed my eyes. “I’m a virgin.”
Emma was mute. I tentatively opened one eye into a kind of squint. She was sitting there, staring at me. I couldn’t read her expression. Oh God. My body was tense when she finally spoke.
“But why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her voice softer than I had ever heard it. “Did you think I’d . . . judge you?”
“No!” I replied, horrified. “Of course not. It was totally just a thing in my head and no reflection on you at all. I’m just a weird, embarrassing freak and didn’t want to tell you because I was scared you’d feel uncomfortable around me . . . and I didn’t want you to think you couldn’t talk about sex around me,” I admitted. I then added in a small voice, hoping I didn’t sound like a pervert, “And I liked hearing your stories.”
I felt my cheeks burning and I knew my face was about to start clashing with the purple velvet sofas but I couldn’t stop talking. “I was just so embarrassed, Emma,” I said, trying to swallow the sick feeling inside of me.
She looked straight into my eyes and I shifted uncomfortably. She hated me, I could tell. I’d officially ruined our friendship.
“You bloody idiot,” she cried, and crushed me in a huge hug. I couldn’t physically breathe or move but I felt light with relief. I shut my eyes and breathed in the smell of Miss Dior Chérie. I felt so much better.
Emma broke away, gazing fondly at me. Her eyes looked cloudy. “Ellie, you’re so weird sometimes. Of course I don’t care that you’re a virgin. Why would I?”
I looked down at my hands and picked at my chipped nail polish. “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Just, you don’t know anyone over the age of fifteen who is still a virgin.”
“Yeah, because I went to the sluttiest school ever,” she said. “There are loads of older virgins out there. If a person wants to wait, that’s their decision and I respect it. Of course I would.”