Virgin 4 Life

Chapter 12

Friday afternoon I slip through the front door at two-thirty, last period canceled when Mr. Roberts had some family emergency. The house smells like coffee and disappointment—Dad's working from home.

"Why are you home early?"

His voice stops me cold. He's at the kitchen table, laptop open, papers spread around him like a fortress of responsibility. His eyes scan me, checking for signs of rebellion.

Thank God I changed back into my conservative clothes before leaving school. The burgundy dress from yesterday is buried in my backpack like contraband.

"Last period was canceled. Mr. Roberts had an emergency."

His eyes narrow, searching for the lie that isn't there. Yet. "You came home late yesterday too. Where were you?"

The accusation in his tone makes my stomach twist into knots. "Shopping with Mia. We lost track of time."

"Shopping." He spits the word like it's contaminated. "Your exams are coming up, Evelyn. Every free moment should be spent studying, not wasting time at the mall like those troubled kids with no futures."

If only he knew which troubled kid I've been wasting time with.

"This is the first and last time I want to hear about you prioritizing anything over your education." His voice could freeze hell. "Understood?"

"Yes, sir." I nod quickly, the good daughter mask sliding into place. "Actually, Mia and I are studying together tonight. For the calculus exam."

His expression softens slightly—I know exactly which buttons to push. "Good. Where?"

"At the cafe where we always study. Six o'clock."

He leans back, still watching me like I might suddenly confess to crimes. "If I find out you're lying to me, if you're not actually studying, the consequences will be severe. Your entire future depends on these exams."

I force myself to meet his eyes, to lie directly to his face. "Dad, come on. You know Mia and I are serious about our grades. We always study together—it's more effective that way."

He studies me for another eternal moment before waving toward the stairs. "Go review your notes before you leave."

I escape to my room, closing the door quietly, heart still racing from the interrogation. My phone buzzes immediately.

Caleb: Not going to the party tonight. Plans changed. Want to meet? I need my tutor.

My heart stops, then restarts at double speed. He's not going to Amber's party. Not going to her hot tub. He's choosing me instead—no, that's not right. He needs tutoring. This is about grades, not about wanting me.

I should say no. I have to study with Mia. The test is thirty percent of our grade. My father will literally send me to a convent if he finds out I lied.

But he's not going to the party. That has to mean something, right? Maybe he realized choosing Amber was a mistake. Maybe he's been thinking about me in that short skirt, the way his eyes went dark when he saw me. Maybe—

Stop it. This is exactly how I end up humiliated. Reading meaning into nothing, creating fairy tales where I matter to him.

Another text: Unless you're busy with some golden boy?

That stings more than it should. Is he jealous? The thought makes my chest tight with stupid hope. Before I can type a response, my phone starts ringing. Caleb's name fills the screen like a summons from the devil himself.

Don't answer. Let it go to voicemail. Be the good girl you're supposed to be. Remember how he accepted Amber's invitation right in front of you. Remember how everyone laughed. Remember that you're nothing to him but a game.

It rings and rings, and my willpower crumbles.

"Hello?"

"Park at six." His voice is rough, darker than usual. "You know what my car looks like. Wait for me there."

"Caleb, I can't. I have plans—"

"You don't have the right to refuse."

The line goes dead.

I stare at my phone, my pulse thundering in my ears. He just commanded me like I'm his property. Like I don't have a choice. The worst part is he's right—I don't. Not when it comes to him.

Yesterday he chose another girl in front of everyone, let her kiss his cheek, made plans for her party while I stood there in that stupid skirt feeling worthless. And now he calls and expects me to drop everything? To lie to everyone who actually cares about me?

The logical part of my brain screams that this is manipulation. That he's playing with me, testing how far I'll degrade myself for scraps of his attention. Normal guys don't call and demand meetings. Normal relationships involve asking, not commanding.

But the way he said it—"You don't have the right to refuse"—sends heat straight between my thighs. I hate that he's right. Hate that I'm already planning what to wear, already crafting lies for my father and Mia.

I should text him about the math test. About Mia counting on me. About my father's threats. But my fingers betray me, opening my chat with Mia instead.

Can we move studying to Sunday?

Her response is instant: Are you kidding? One day isn't enough for this test, even for us. Evie, what's going on?

The guilt tastes like acid. I type and delete five different excuses before settling on the worst lie yet: I'm not feeling well. Can we just prepare separately this time?

Did something happen? Are you really sick or is this about Caleb?

She knows. Of course she knows. Mia always knows.

I really don't feel good. I'm sorry.

She sends back a disappointed emoji but says she understands. I throw my phone on the bed, self-loathing crawling under my skin. I'm lying to my father, betraying my best friend, probably tanking my GPA, all for a boy who chose another girl's hot tub over me yesterday.

But I'm already pulling out the burgundy dress, the one that made me feel dangerous. My hands shake as I watch three YouTube tutorials on smoky eyes, trying to copy the steps with clumsy fingers.

The girl in the mirror looks nothing like Evelyn Harper, future Yale student. She looks like someone who breaks rules, who chooses desire over duty, who ruins her life for boys who don't care.

By five-thirty, I'm transformed. I grab my purse and creep toward the door, praying Dad stays absorbed in his work.

"Going to study with Mia now!" I call from the doorway, not daring to let him see me.

"Don't be late. And tell Mia I said hello," he responds without looking up.

Relief floods through me as I escape, closing the door quietly on my father's trust, my old life, everything I used to be.

The guilt is suffocating but my feet keep moving toward the park. Toward Caleb's car. Toward whatever torture he's planned tonight.

I'm the worst daughter. The worst friend. Breaking every promise I've ever made to myself. The old Evie would be horrified at who I'm becoming—this girl who lies as easily as breathing, who throws away her future for a few moments of being wanted.

But as I spot his car in the parking lot, black and dangerous like him, my heart races with something that isn't guilt. It's anticipation. Need. Hunger for whatever crumbs he'll throw me tonight.

I'm addicted to Caleb Voss like he's a drug, and the scariest part isn't that I'm destroying my life.

It's that I don't want to stop.