Virgin(62)

“Something that is hopefully not going to make me wish I hadn’t,” he said as he tapped on his phone. “I’m Googling it.”

“Oh, yay,” I said as I cuddled up closer to him to look at his phone over his shoulder. This was sooo boyfriend/girlfriend of us. I grinned again as I waited for his phone to load. Then we both let out noises of total disgust as the Wikipedia entry came up. A Moon Cup was a reusable plastic bowl-type thing that girls shoved into their VJs to collect blood, and then washed out. It was good for the environment.

“Oh my God, that’s disgusting,” I shrieked.

“Fuck,” he said slowly, shaking his head to the side. “That is messed up.” Then he looked up at me and pulled me close to him. “Thank God you don’t use that shit,” he said as he kissed me and wrapped his arms around me. I smiled happily and sank into his arms.



I sat on the bus, tissue wedged into my knickers, shifting my legs uncomfortably. I was sitting on the 179 back to Tottenham Court Road, and it was stuck in traffic. I was still a million miles from Camden, and the girl I used to be. Okay, I was still a virgin but I was finally the kind of girl who could give a BJ without blinking an eye. I had just shared a blow gift with a guy who was definitely about to become my boyfriend.

The thought of Jack asking me out was enough to distract me from the tissue situation and the dried-up come making my back itchy. I listened to my iPod and chewed on the gum I’d just bought. I wanted to text Lara to tell her the good news but that wasn’t an option yet, so I decided I should text Paul instead. He had, after all, been my BJ learning partner.

I sent him a text. I just gave a man the greatest gift of his life and am wearing his dried-up joy on the inside of my dress.

He replied back immediately, saying, Congratulations!! I have a date tonight and may be doing the same. You’ll have to share your tips with me soon.

I grinned and sent the same text to Emma. I got a reply just as I was swapping buses.

Woo hoo! Can I come over to hear the dirty details? Can’t handle revision.

Yes. I’m en route to Camden now and will definitely not be revising or dissertationing today. Bring snacks.

I closed my eyes and leaned against the bus window. Jack had been so sweet this morning. He had made me coffee using his fake-retro latte machine and had barely stopped kissing me. I’d freshened up with his toothbrush and shoved loo roll into my pants when Cat had gone out to work, and we had spent an hour sitting in his kitchen, chatting. I loved that he didn’t think I was weird for bringing up the Moon Cup. We were clearly a good fit and we already had plans for next week. By then Venus would be gone and we could consummate our relationship. I smiled sleepily in anticipation and spent the rest of the bus journey pretending I was still curled up in his arms.



Emma elbowed me as she pulled the duvet over our legs. “Budge up,” she said, and I obligingly rolled across my bed to make room for her. I yawned, glad we were having such a lazy afternoon. We were already halfway through the packs of chocolate mini bites and rocky roads that Emma had brought.

“These are so good,” I mumbled, my mouth full. “Thanks for—” I was about to carry on but a spray of chocolate crumbs flew out of my mouth and Emma hit me in disgust.

“Ellie, you’re so gross!” she said. “But yeah, they are amazing. I’m in major need of chocolate—I’m sooo tired.”

“Does that mean your date with Mr. Waiter went well?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. She blushed and actually went quiet. I was shocked. “Oh my God, Emma, do you actually like him?”

“Erm, maybe,” she said. “Okay, we had loads of fun—and oh my God, is he talented in le sac—but he is also just a really nice guy.”

“This is amazing, Em! I’m so happy for you!” I shrieked, accidentally releasing the next fleet of chocolate crumbs from my mouth. “Oh shit, sorry,” I added, brushing them off her jumper.

She rolled her eyes at me and grabbed another two mini bites out of the plastic tub. “He’s just a truly decent guy,” she explained. “Okay, he took a while to text me, but that’s because he was ending something with some other girl. And he didn’t want to cheat on the other girl, or mess me around.”

I nodded wisely, as if this happened to me on a regular basis. She carried on. “I think it’s because he is a bit older—he’s thirty. He’s called Sergio, by the way, and he is doing an MA in creative writing while he works in the bar. He is originally from Spain, even though he’s lived here for, like, six years. I’ve seen him a few times now. Also, he is just so fit and he’s six-foot-something. You know I love tall men.”