“Repeat that, please.”
“I think you heard me.”
“How old is this fucking chick?” His voice is cold and hard, the tone I associate with conversations that revolve around his brother or his family.
“Twenty-two.” His silence makes me anxious.
“A twenty-two-year-old virgin in Vegas?”
“She didn’t want to give it up to an asshole.”
“Guess she fucked that up, huh?”
“You’re not helping me here, Linc. What the hell am I going to do? Under any other circumstances I might walk away, except I took something important from her, and I don’t want to be the asshole who becomes vapor and a shitty memory. And I really like her.”
“Do you actually like her or is this about you reliving your own first whatever? I mean, I can understand if that’s it, especially after what happened with Imogen.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with Imogen.”
“I’m not trying to be a dick. I just know that she fucked with your head. It makes sense that you’re trying to get over it. I want to make sure you’re invested in this girl—woman—for the right reasons. I got your back, cousin. Whatever’s going on here, I’m with you, but if what you’re telling me is true, you need to tread carefully.”
“I don’t want to screw her over.”
“I’m less worried about you messing her up than I am about you developing some kind of guilt complex and making bad decisions as a result.”
“This isn’t about me, Linc. She’s different. I can’t just walk away. I don’t want to be an asshole, so I need to find a way to fix this, even if it’s just her acknowledging that none of this was intentional.”
Lincoln exhales loudly. “Oh shit.”
“Oh shit, what?”
“She already has you by the balls.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I hate it when Lincoln pulls this dramatic bullshit.
“You’re talking about her like you’re in a relationship with her.”
“It’s not a relationship.”
“You took her virginity, yes?”
“Yes.” I almost heave the word. It was fine last night, before I knew I’d had some kind of interaction with her sister. But now, with time and more perspective than I like, I realize that ghosting her would make me the kind of man I loathe. More than that, I don’t want to ghost Cosy.
I want to be more of her firsts. I don’t want to be the guy she remembers as the one who took her virginity after he slept with her sister.
“You’re kinda fucked, dude.”
“Thanks for nothing, Linc.”
I’m about to hang up on him when he says, “Wait.”
So I do, because I have no idea what I’m supposed to do, and any perspective that isn’t my own would be great. Both of my brothers are in successful relationships in spite of their less than stable and shining pasts. My parents have been together forever and seem as solid as ever despite the number of their friends who have either been divorced or pretend they’re happily married when really they’re miserable. Add to that my own failed engagement, and I feel like maybe I’m not so awesome at relationships.
“She’s young.”
“She’s of legal drinking age in all states,” I say defensively.
“Yeah, I get that. But I mean, she’s not cynical like women our age can be. Or at least she shouldn’t be. If you want to win her back, you need to woo the fuck out of her.”
“Okay. I can do that. I can woo Cosy.”
“Hold up. Her name is Cosy? Like, let’s get cozy by the fire?”
“Yeah, or tea cozy, but the British spelling.”
“Are her parents fucked-up hippies or something?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t met them. Can we get back to the wooing plan?”
“Buy her flowers, candy, whatever she loves. Haunt her world if you have to. She’s too young to be jaded by experience, especially if you’re her first. She’s going to want you to be better than the fuckhead who screwed her sister and then her, so you need to do nice things for her to show her you’re serious.”
“Jesus. I really am an asshole.”
“You’re not, but the circumstances aren’t great. You need to work it hard if you want to sway her to your side. Her sister could be the clincher, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“If she feels slighted, you’re probably screwed. But you can’t control that, and you can’t contact the sister, so you have to work the Cosy angle.”
That’s not what I want to hear, even though I can understand. “I can do that. I think, anyway.”
“Twenty-fucking-two, Griffin?” Lincoln huffs his annoyance.
“She’s different. I can’t explain it, but there’s something about her.”
“You mean other than a tight ass? And I’m not saying that to be a dick, but Imogen did a number on you, man, and I think this is you trying to find someone safe who’s not going to shred your ego or your trust like that again.”
He might be right, at least partly, but it’s more than that. “I don’t expect you to understand, but if you met her . . . It’s like she’s all the things I’ve ever wanted packed into one human being. She’s not full of pretense and bullshit. It doesn’t matter that I have to go back to New York eventually. I don’t want to leave things like this.”