Virgin 4 Life

Chapter 4

The party pulses around us like a living thing, bodies pressed so close in the living room I can barely breathe. The smell of beer and sweat and too much Axe body spray makes my stomach turn.

Someone's turned the lights down to almost nothing, and in the shadows, people are doing things that would give my father a heart attack.

I try to move away from Caleb but he follows, predator-smooth, and then his hand slides from my hip down to boldly cup my ass right there in front of everyone.

I jerk away so hard I nearly fall, shoving at his chest with both hands. "What are you doing?" The words come out as a hiss, my back hitting the wall. My face burns so hot I'm surprised the smoke alarm doesn't go off.

"Are you insane?" I can hear my voice climbing higher, more shrill. "'Praying for you to stop…doing that'? What is wrong with you?"

He just shrugs, that infuriating smirk never leaving his face. God, I want to slap it off. "Wasn't that the whole point, Virgin? To make them think you're not one anymore?"

The word 'virgin' makes me flinch even though the music is so loud only I can hear him. I want to slap him but people are watching, always watching now, phones out like weapons.

"You could have said literally anything else." My hands are shaking. "Now they think we're..."

I can't even finish the sentence. Can't say the word that's bouncing around my skull.

"That we're fucking?" He says it so casually, like he's talking about the weather. "Yeah, that's kind of the idea."

He reaches for me again but I duck under his arm, escaping to the kitchen where the air is slightly less suffocating. Beer pong dominates the island, red cups arranged in perfect triangles, and I nearly collide with Mia who appears out of nowhere.

"Evie!" Her eyes are wide as saucers, mascara slightly smudged from the heat. "Is it true? You're with Caleb Voss? When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me?"

Her questions hit me rapid-fire, no space to answer even if I knew what to say. How do I explain that forty-eight hours ago I was on a roof, contemplating edges, and now I'm supposedly sleeping with the school's most dangerous bad boy?

Before I can even try, Madison's laugh cuts through from the living room, sharp enough to draw blood. "There's no way Caleb actually fucked her. Look at her—she practically ran away when he touched her ass."

My stomach drops through the floor. More voices join in, a chorus of doubt.

"V4L is still V4L, just desperate now."

"Hundred bucks says she paid him."

"Did you see how red she got? Virgins always turn that color."

The laughter that follows is sharper than before, meaner, with teeth. They didn't buy it. Of course they didn't. I'm still radiating virgin energy like a neon sign.

I spend the next hour in social purgatory, dodging Caleb's hands every time he gets close, hyper-aware of every whisper that follows me through the rooms. The party feels like a maze with no exit, just endless faces smirking at me.

Someone from my AP Lit class actually walks up and asks, straight-faced, if Caleb had to teach me what a penis was. I can't even respond, just stand there with my mouth open while she laughs and walks away.

Near the stairs, I hear Jake Morrison wonder loudly to his friends if I cried during it. "You know virgins always cry their first time, right? Bet she was sobbing while calling out for Jesus."

The humiliation is worse than this morning—so much worse—because now I'm not just a virgin, I'm a lying virgin. A desperate, pathetic faker who thought she could convince people Caleb Voss would actually want her. They see right through me.

I'm refilling my untouched beer for the fourth time, just to have something to do with my hands, when Caleb materializes at my side. His mouth is suddenly at my ear, breath warm and tasting of whiskey.

"They didn't buy it."

"What? Even after what you said?" I keep my voice low, forcing myself to lean into him like a real girlfriend would, even though every instinct screams to run.

"Words are cheap, Evie." His hand finds my waist, fingers spreading wide. "They need proof."

"What kind of proof—"

But he's already moving. Before I can finish the question, before I can protest, he spins me around and yanks me flush against him. My beer sloshes, nearly spilling.

"Caleb, no, I can't—"

He doesn't let me finish. His hand cups the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, and he crushes his mouth to mine.

This isn't a kiss. It's a claiming.

His tongue invades my mouth like he has every right to be there, like he's already been inside me in other ways. I taste whiskey and danger and something uniquely him that makes my knees buckle.

I bring my hands up to shove at his chest, fight for half a second, but his grip is iron and escape proves impossible. Then his tongue strokes against mine in a way that short-circuits my brain, and I melt against him instead.

He kisses me like he's trying to consume me, brutal and demanding, one hand tangled in my hair while the other grips my waist hard enough to leave fingerprints. He angles my head exactly where he wants it, takes what he wants, and my body responds like it's been waiting for this my entire life.

Heat explodes between my thighs so fast I gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound like it belongs to him. I'm drenched instantly, my body betraying every pure thought I've ever had, every prayer I've ever said.

His tongue does something that makes me whimper—actually whimper—and my hands stop pushing, start pulling instead, fingers curling into his shirt. The room spins or maybe that's just me, drowning in the taste of him, the feel of him, the way he's destroying me in front of everyone.

Someone whistles, long and low. Someone else mutters "holy shit" like they're witnessing a miracle or a murder.

But I can't focus on anything except the way Caleb's mouth owns mine, the way he's kissing me like he's proving a point to the entire room. Like he's marking me as his in a way that no one can dispute.

When he finally releases me, I stagger backward. My legs won't hold me properly. My lips feel swollen, bruised, still tingling from the assault. I can taste him everywhere, feel the wetness soaking through my underwear, and I want to die from the shame of how my body responded.

The entire room is silent. Dead silent.

Madison's phone hangs loose in her hand, her mouth open in shock. Noah stands frozen by the beer pong table, looking like someone just showed him proof that God isn't real. Connor Walsh has his phone up, definitely recording, but his eyes are wide with disbelief.

The silence stretches, heavy and loaded, and then someone says, "Fuck. They're actually together."

No one's laughing now. No one's calling me V4L.

They believe it. After that kiss, how could they not? I look thoroughly destroyed, like a girl who's been properly claimed.

And the most terrifying part? I feel like it too.