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Virgin(77)

By:Radhika Sanghani


“Really?”

“Of course, you idiot,” I said, squeezing her arm. I had tears spilling down my cheeks now. I couldn’t believe Lara had been going through all this alone just because I had been too stubborn to apologize. It was a month too late but it was time to finally say sorry. “Lara, I really am sorry, you know. I never thought you might actually need me all this time. I just thought you were angry with me and I avoided you because I was scared. I should have been more brave.”

“I wasn’t brave either,” she conceded. “I just kind of ran away from life and holed up here with my mum.”

“That is brave. She needed you and you were here for her. Is that why you’re not at uni?” I asked.

“Well, you know us Oxbridge kids . . . we get long holidays so I’m still not actually back at uni.” She grinned.

I swatted her. “Well, some of us handed in our dissertations today because we actually went to uni at eighteen and didn’t sod off on a gap year.”

She laughed. “Glad to see you haven’t changed.”

I blushed and stared at her in silence.

She stared back. “What?” she asked. “Why are you doing poignant eyes?”

I bit my bottom lip and grinned in silence. Her eyes got wider as comprehension dawned on her face.

“SHUT UP. YOU DIDN’T! YOU’RE NOT . . . OH MY GOD, YOU’RE NOT A VIRGIN!” she screamed.

I burst out laughing and squealed, “I KNOW! I DID IT!”

We screamed together and hugged, laughing. “I literally can’t believe this,” she said after we’d stopped yelling. “With that guy? I don’t even know his name. I’m a shit friend.”

“I thought we’d got over the ‘shit friend’ thing. We’re as bad as each other, so it neutralizes out. Anyway, it only happened last week so you’re not too late finding out about it—don’t worry. He’s called Jack. It didn’t hurt much and we’ve been seeing each other . . . well, um, four times, and we’re still texting and . . . oh, I don’t know.” I sank onto her pillows with my legs up in the air.

She sank back with me. “This is insane,” she said. “I’m so happy for you! But oh my God, I haven’t known about your newfound state of womanhood for a whole week.” She sighed theatrically. “I should have seen it the second you walked in. You’re totally PCG-ing.”

“Huh?”

She grinned. “Oh, finally I know an abbrev you don’t. Post-coital glowing, obviously.”

I laughed. “Well, I was actually majorly PCG-ing on Monday, but it’s worn off every day since. In fact, it’s basically dead now because he isn’t messaging as much as I want him to, and I, like, don’t know if he wants to be my boyfriend,” I finished quietly.

“Was it . . . ever suggested that he wants to be your boyfriend?” she asked cautiously.

“No. But we’d been on three dates. I just assumed because he was always so cute, and he seemed to like my personality—not just my boobs like the typical wankers on TV. And he was so keen before, and now he’s totally bailing and I don’t wanna be that girl who loses her V-plates to a guy who abandons her. So what do I do?” I looked at her hopefully.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s take this slowly. I don’t know the details, but you’ll obviously fill me in all night because you’re staying over. But it sounds like you need to ask him. I mean, fuck it, the worst that can happen is he says he’s not interested and then you can move on, and at least you didn’t lose it to a stranger.”

I nodded gradually. “Right, okay. I mean, I’d rather die than ask him outright, but I see your point. I need to know. Fuck it, I can do this. Tomorrow.”

She nodded and wrapped her arms around me.

“So tell me everything,” I said. “Every tiny irrelevant detail I’ve missed over the last few weeks. I miss you.”

“Ugh, you’re so cringe. But fine. I kind of missed you too.” She smiled, her eyes still red, and lying there on her bed, she told me everything. About her dad, about Angus never texting her back and how Jez was still being a dick. The gap between us narrowed until we’d forgotten there ever had been one. I’d crossed the Rubicon.





 Over croissants and coffee the next morning, I had the brain wave of inviting Lara to Luke’s party. Next thing I knew, we were on our way back to my flat in Camden, carrying a selection of dresses and shoes from Lara’s extensive wardrobe.

“Are you sure you want to go tonight?” I asked Lara worriedly.