“I could dance for you,” Trevor says. “My time is already paid for.”
I shake my head even before he finishes. I can’t imagine being comfortable with a one-on-one show; I was already crawling out of my skin when I was among the group.
“Looks like you get the night off,” I tell him, and because he still somehow looks disappointed, I say, “Would you like anything to drink before you go?”
The corner of his mouth curls up, drawing my attention to his lips. “Sure,” he says.
I take him to the kitchen, where the bottles are all out on the counter. When he tells me what he likes, I pour a drink for him. “This will probably be your oddest night on the job, I guess,” I tell him when I hand him the cup.
“Not even close,” he says with a laugh. “I haven’t been doing this for very long, but I’ve experienced a lot of strange stuff already.”
“Like what?”
He shakes his head, still smiling. “I’m sure you don’t want to know.”
He seems nice, and I’m starting to relax, but I’m also still fuming at my roommates. “I can’t believe my friends thought this is how I’d want to lose my virginity. No offense,” I add quickly, my eyes skimming down his body without my permission. “I’m sure it would be great, and whatever.”
“Why do they care whether you lose your virginity?”
“I don’t know. They joke about it sometimes, and tonight we were celebrating the music gig I got, or at least, I thought that’s what the party was about. Lindsey said something about how it would be weird for a virgin to be playing music at a bar where people go to hook up.”
“You’re a musician?” he says. “That’s cool. And your sexual status doesn’t matter whatsoever, of course, unless it’s bothering you.”
“I mean, it bothers me a little. I’m twenty-five, so I’m an oddity, I guess. One of the rare breed that makes it through four years of college without having sex. But I’m not embarrassed about it, or think it’s something that needs correcting.” I pour some chips into a bowl, shocked that I’m talking to this stranger so easily, and about such personal things.
“Is there a particular reason you haven’t had sex? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I give him a long look, trying to assess his motives in asking. He just seems genuinely curious.
“I wasn’t interested in guys much when I was younger, then when I went to college, I lived at home for the first two years. I didn’t go to parties, so there wasn’t much opportunity. When I moved out of my parents’ house, I was busy studying and working. It just hasn’t been a priority.”
“You haven’t had boyfriends?”
“A few. Nothing too serious. My major was in IT, so most of my classes were with techie types.”
“You don’t like that kind of guy?” He leans back against the counter, taking a long sip of his drink.
“I do, actually, but they’re not typically the most aggressive at pursuing women, you know? They’re the guys playing D&D and watching Star Wars movie marathons on the weekends.”
Trevor’s dark eyes are fixed on me, and even though talking with him is easy, I suddenly feel a bit flustered. “Anyway, it just hasn’t happened,” I say. “And I’m sorry, but it’s not happening tonight either.”
He is, however, an excellent physical specimen, and would probably make a great sexual partner, but I want my first time to be based on more than just physical attraction.
“That’s too bad,” he says, those dark brows lifting suggestively.
I shove the bowl at him. “Here, have some chips.”
He hesitates. “Do you have any pretzels? I’m not really a potato chip person.”
“I’ve never met someone who didn’t like potato chips.”
“I guess that’s my oddity,” he says with a shrug.
“How about tortilla chips?” I ask.
“Perfect. Thanks. And I admire that you’re waiting for the right time. I had sex much too young, and if I could do things over, I’d wait longer.”
“’Til you were twenty-five?” I tease, pouring tortilla chips into another bowl.