Finally, with a faint sigh, I say, “I don’t think I’ve done it yet.”
Chapter Seven
I manage to end the not-date with my virginity intact, and even though I know logically that’s not much of an accomplishment, it feels like one.
I didn’t let him kiss me.
He wanted to, I could see it, but I was too afraid. Too much about him acts as a siren’s call to me already, and I couldn’t risk it.
As I hurry inside the house by myself, shutting the door behind me and leaning heavily against it, it doesn’t feel like a win. I wanted a kiss. It was a weird not-date, nothing like I’ve been on before, but there’s something so raw about Vince, so unexpectedly forthcoming.
I want him. Physically I can accept that—I’m human, and he’s a damn good-looking guy—but I’m terrified of wanting him on any other level.
It’s a bad situation, and I need to get out of it.
But also… I don’t know if I want to.
I spend yet another night losing sleep over Vince Morelli. It occurs to me around three in the morning that we should probably exchange phone numbers. The way things are going now, the only way I get to hear from him is in school or if he decides to show up.
Monday morning rolls around and I feel weirdly excited to go to school. I’m tired, having slept like crap all weekend, but I’m eager to see Vince.
“Guess who’s going to Costa Rica, baby.”
I shove my after lunch books into my locker and look over at Lena as she beams at me. “Me? Say it’s me and I’ll be your best friend forever.”
“No.”
I roll my eyes, closing my locker door. “Well, good for you,” I say flatly.
“No, not me! My mom and dad—they’re going away for the weekend, and we are having a party.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m not helping you with that.”
“You have to. Why are we even best friends if you’re not going to help me throw a party? I mean, literally all you have to do is pick up some bags of chips or some shit. I’ll get the alcohol.”
“I don’t have any spare money to buy chips.”
“I’ll give you the money,” she says, rolling her eyes. “We haven’t gotten drunk together since Macedonia’s graduation party over the summer—and that barely counts, since your weak ass got drunk on two beers.”
“It was my first time!” I defend.
“Whatever. I don’t even care what you say, you’re coming. We’re going to get stupid and sing in front of our peers, and take awesome selfies. It’s already done. You have no say.”
“I’m probably going to have to babysit,” I point out.
“Tell your mom to get a sitter for once in her damn life; they’re not your kids, Jesus Christ.”
We can’t afford a sitter, but I don’t say that. Foolishly, it occurs to me that I could probably bring Vince to that. “Is it going to be a big group, or just a small get-together?”
“Medium-ish,” she says. “I don’t really want everyone to stay over, and I’m not inviting anyone with super uptight parents. Don’t need that drama.”
Hesitantly, I ask, “Would you care if I invited somebody?”
She stops, turning to me with interested eyes. “Jace?”
“No,” I say, a little too adamantly. “Are you inviting Jace?”
“Probably. I thought you’d be pleased?”
“Uh uh,” I say, shaking my head. “Jace is old news. No more Jace.”
She sounds surprised. “Really? Huh. That didn’t last very long. Why don’t you tell me this stuff? That’s literally what I’m here for.”
“It’s super new and casual at the moment. I don’t want to make a big thing of it. But… it might be fun if he could come.”
“Who?”
I try not to grimace as I say, “Vince Morelli?”
The smile drops right off my best friend’s face. “Vince Morelli?”
I nod, almost apologetically.
“You want me to invite the mob kid to my house? For real?” She reaches out her hand and feels my forehead. “Weird, you’re not burning up with fucking delusional fever.”
“I know he’s not part of our usual crowd, but…”
“The fucking governor’s son is going to be there, Mia, and you want me to invite Goodfellas?”
It’s not like Lena’s bluntness is news, but she’s starting to piss me off. “You don’t have to be mean.”
Staring at me, she asks, “Are you sleeping with him?”
“Not—” I halt, flushing, realizing I almost said ‘not yet’ instead of ‘no’. “Just forget it.”
“Ew, you are!” she says, gaping.
I make a face. “I’m not. But ew? Come on.”
“His family does heinous shit, Mia. The package might look pretty on the outside, but Jesus Christ. My dad says they do, like, human trafficking. That’s third world bullshit, right there. There’s no way in hell I could invite him, Mia. Even if my dad wouldn’t lose literally all of his shit if he found out, I wouldn’t do that.”