The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles

by Meghan Quinn

  Alejandro seemed nice, like a genuine guy, but what could you really tell from the Internet? He could be a psycho killer in real life but his profile could say he knitted sweaters for nuns at Christmas. Should I really give him a chance? And why was Henry so against Alejandro? Was he seeing something I wasn’t?

  “Why don’t you like Alejandro?” I asked, cutting the silence that fell in the kitchen.

  “He seems . . . too experienced. I don’t want him taking advantage of you,” Henry replied.

  “You don’t think I can handle myself with an experienced person?”

  Henry gave me a pointed look and said, “Love, you kicked a guy in the crotch last night, not sure how well you’ll do under a nerve-racking situation.”

  Insulted, I sat back in my stool and looked at Henry. Hurt speared through me. Yes, I wasn’t experienced, but I was pretty sure I could handle myself when put in a situation that I wanted for myself. I was getting a little tired of everyone treating me like a child. I understand my friends were trying to be helpful, but sometimes helpful was hurtful.

  “You’re an ass,” I finally said as I got up and took Henry’s tablet back to my room with me. I didn’t need this harassment right now. Alejandro would be getting a message. Ha, take that.

  The minute I walked through my room, I attempted to shut the door behind me to gain some privacy, but it was stopped by Henry’s hand.

  “Leave,” I said, not bothering to turn around.

  “Rosie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m just worried.”

  “Well, stop worrying, Henry. I can handle myself, I’m not a child.”

  He took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair, clearly flustered. “I know you’re not a child, I just . . . God, Rosie, I care about you.” Why was he suddenly so . . . opinionated about my life? We’d been friends for years, and he’d never been so invested in what was happening to me. Why now?

  Finally turning around, I set the tablet on my bed and walked toward him. I placed both my hands on his shoulders and said, “I appreciate your concern but I want a friend, not a big brother. I want you to help teach me what I need to know, not be my knight in shining armor.”

  “But I like being your knight.” He smiled sheepishly.

  “I know, but it’s time you step back, Henry. I won’t have you here for me forever. You’re going to move on at some point, maybe with that big-breasted lady from last night.”

  “Charlene? No, she’s just fuckable. No substance to her.”

  “That’s what I want. Maybe Alejandro is just fuckable. Maybe he will be fun enough where I can let loose and gain some experience. I need experience, Henry, because right now, my book is about as dry as my vagina.”

  Henry’s lip twisted in a smile. “I told you, I could do something about that for you.”

  “Get real,” I pushed him away but he grabbed my arms and pulled me into a hug, making my stomach flutter all over again from being so close to him. I love when he holds me close like this, but I also hate it, because it's only temporary and over in a flash. One day, his daily hugs will probably be gone forever.

  “Do you forgive me?” he whispered softly against my hair. How could I not?

  “Always.” I squeezed him tightly, pressing my cheek to his bare chest.

  “Are you really going to write him back?”

  “I am.”

  “Will you tell me where you go at least?”

  “Do you promise not to watch me through the window?”

  “I can make no such promise, but I can try.”

  Laughing, I said, “I guess that’s the best I can ask for.”

  Once Henry let go of me, I grabbed his tablet and we sat on my bed together and wrote Alejandro back.

  Alejandro,

  You had me at tacos. Let me know when and where.

  Ready to munch – Rosie

  “You sure it’s not too lame?” I asked before sending. It wasn’t a very poetic message but it got the point across.

  “No, it’s perfect.”

  “Don’t you think munch sounds a bit sexual?”

  “Yes, and that’s the point.” Henry cringed. “Not that I really want you giving out sexual innuendos, but as a friend giving advice, this is perfect.”

  “Okay, good.”

  With confidence, I pressed send and hoped I didn’t sound too cheesy.

  “I’m proud of you,” Henry said.

  “Why’s that?” I asked, as I walked to my desk and opened up my laptop to the dating website to scope out the other messages.

  Henry adjusted his seat on my unmade bed and played with the blankets.

  “For putting yourself out there, it’s very brave.”

  “It’s all for research.” I smirked.

  “How is the book coming along?”

  “Scratched the whole thing. I don’t know if a medieval romance is something I can write.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, since I’ve started this new journey, I’ve been reading some more contemporary romance and I have to be honest with you, I love it. Contemporary romance is so different than a historical romance. It’s a little more edgy, the slang is more up to date, and the sex, holy crap, Henry, you should read some of these sex scenes.”

  “Really?” he asked, looking really intrigued. “Like soft porn?”

  “More like hard porn.” I leaned forward and spoke animatedly. “The girls like it hard, they like their panties to be ripped off, and they tell the guy they’re with when they’re going to”—I looked around and whispered—“come, like straight up shout it to the rooftops.”

  A bellow of a laugh escaped Henry as he held his stomach.

  “What’s so funny? It’s true. And you should read some of the things these girls do. Henry, I read one book where the girl let the guy stick a pencil in her butt hole.”

  Henry’s laughing seized and one of his eyebrows rose in question. “Rosie, what the hell are you reading? I don’t remember downloading any books like that for you.”

  “It’s a teacher/student romance. I know I had mixed feelings about that kind of story, but I went for it. It seemed interesting, but then things got a little out of control. It’s fascinating. She liked the pencil in her butt hole, she was holding it for him while he graded her physique. She got an A plus of course, but still, just fascinating.”

  “Rosie, you know she could have held the pencil with her hands, he didn’t have to stick it in her butt hole. That seems kind of odd.”

  “Wait”—I stopped him with my hand up and said—“that’s not a regular thing?”

  “Sticking pencils in people’s assholes? No, Rosie, that is not normal.”

  I sat back in my seat and thought about it for a second. It seemed so normal in the book . . . there was no hesitation. It was like, oh you’re sticking that pencil in my ass, perfect! Like the woman knew her ass was the perfect receptacle for such actions and should be modeled as the modern-day pencil holder.

  “Well, that seems a little disturbing then. Why would the author write that?”

  “How the hell would I know?” Henry laughed. “Do I need to start screening what you read? Honestly, Rosie, are you that naive? You know I love you, but a pencil in the ass?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged and laughed. “I just learned how to suck a dick on a banana the other day. How am I supposed to know that people aren’t supposed to stick things in butt holes?”

  “Oh, things can go in butt holes, just not pencils.”

  “Oh. Like anal plugs,” I said with pride. “She had an anal plug in her butt before she had the pencil. And you know, I was thinking the other day, when he pulled out the anal plug to replace with the pencil, do you think it made a popping sound? Like when you pull a cork out of a wine bottle? I’m trying to envision this so-called plug and all I can think about is a wine cork.”

  Visions of corks in butts ran through my mind while I turned and saw Henry running his hands up and down his face, lik
e he was in pain.

  “Rosie, you know how to use Google, so why didn’t you do a search to see what an anal plug looks like?”

  “It’s not a wine cork?”

  “For fuck’s sake, no, Rosie.” He laughed. “An anal plug is thin on one side and thicker on the other and they come in all colors and sizes.”

  “Glow in the dark?”

  “Probably. I’ve never used one.”

  “Oh, so they’re just not for girls?”

  “No, anyone can stick an anal plug in their ass.”

  “Interesting.” I pondered for a moment, thinking if I could incorporate an anal plug in my book.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Henry said, stopping me. “You’re not writing about anal plugs.”

  “And why not?” I asked defiantly.

  “Because you don’t even know what a dick looks like in the flesh. You can’t go from virgin to anal plug-stuffing romance writer. Work your way in, Rosie. Write about stuff you know.”

  “I know nothing,” I said a little frustrated. “I know that when you kick a man in the crotch, he won’t want to see you again.”

  “That’s not true. Atticus may want to call you.”

  “I made him throw up, Henry.”

  He nodded and I saw a small smirk spread across his face. I despised him at the moment.

  “Yea, we might want to cut our losses with Atticus and move on. Your date tonight—focus on that and the taco man.”

  “His name is Alejandro,” I said, just as a ping went off on my computer, causing me to turn and see what the noise was.

  A picture of Alejandro popped up on my screen and a message from him.

  Hi Rosie,

  I’m so glad you wrote me back. How does Monday sound? We can meet at the restaurant.

  Alejandro

  “Alejandro wrote me back,” I squealed. “He wants to go out Monday night. What should I say back?”

  A long exhale came out of Henry as he got off my bed and stepped up behind me. His hands rested on my shoulders and he read the message off my computer.

  “For the record, I don’t like this guy. He seems too excited.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” I looked up at him over my shoulder.

  “No, but I just don’t like him.”

  “That’s very mature of you,” I teased. “So what should I say?”

  “Do you want to meet him on Monday?”

  “Should I? I don’t want to sound desperate?” Henry gave me a pointed look, so I pinched his stomach, making him step back. “I’m not desperate, just . . . intrigued. So Monday, then?”

  “Sure, but you will be telling me where this taco place is, because to hell if I’m going to let you go out with this Alejandro and not know about it.”

  “You’re too protective,” I said while writing Alejandro back and letting him know Monday worked perfectly.

  “Just don’t want to see you get hurt.” He paused for a second and then spun me around in my chair. He knelt in front of me and held my hands. He took a deep breath and said softly, “You know, Rosie, if you wanted, I could just show you everything myself.”

  My heart stopped beating as I tried to comprehend Henry’s offer. Was he serious?

  “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice breaking.

  His brow creased as he considered his offer, almost as he not only surprised himself, but me as well. He cleared his throat and stood up, putting distance between us, allowing himself to pace the length of my room in a few strides.

  “Uh, never mind.” He shook his head as if what he was about to say was crazy. Unsure of what to do, he stumbled a bit and said, “I have to go, but make sure you say bye to me before your date tonight. I want to wish you good luck.”

  With that, Henry left my room, leaving me completely and utterly confused. Did he just offer to show me everything, as in, have sex with me? It must have been a fleeting idea because not but a second after the words flew out of his mouth, it felt like he wanted to retract them immediately.

  The thought of Henry being a cherry chaser kept running through my head. Thanks Delaney. There was no way he was a cherry chaser, and even if he were, he wouldn’t want to be with me just because I was a virgin. He wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship like that . . . it was impossible.

  Right?

  I shook the crazy notion from my head. There were still so many messages to comb through, but I felt setting up a date with Alejandro was enough for now. I went back to my bed where I pulled my Kindle off my nightstand and started reading about the magnificent pencil holder and her kinky man.

  Chapter Eight

  The North Star

  “I’m telling you, I’m terrible at bowling.” I laughed as Lance and I both stared up at the TV that displayed our scores. I was bringing in a measly fifty-two while Lance was bowling a one eighty, which was impressive to me.

  “At least you look adorable doing it.” Lance pinched my chin, making me melt in place.

  I was nervous coming into this date because I honestly didn’t know what to expect. I had only met Lance once before and we’d barely talked, so to see this fun side of him was different and intriguing.

  We met at the bowling alley, and I was instantly intimidated to see he was with four of his friends who were all dressed up for cosmic bowling, thankfully, since I wore my tight white shirt, jeans, and neon-green bra. I fit in with the crowd, perfectly actually, but outside of the bowling alley, I looked like a teenager who spent their spare time hanging out by the light post of the local gas station. Real classy, top notch.

  Lance loved my outfit though, and I had to admit he looked beyond handsome in his dark jeans and white V-neck shirt. It was simple, yet classic.

  “Want to take a break?” Lance asked as his hand found the small of my back.

  “That might be a good idea. My thumb is starting to hurt.”

  “Aw, you have bowler’s thumb.” Lance grabbed my thumb and brought it to his lips where he lightly kissed it.

  Oh my.

  At that moment, I felt like one of those cartoon characters that started floating in the air while their legs kicked about and hearts sprouted from their heads. A little kiss on the thumb from Lance had me wanting to dance around and fist-bump anyone with a hand.

  I hated that I was so caught up in the little things that a small gesture from a man had me shaking and quaking in my shoes, but I’d never been romanced. I’d never really gone on dates or put myself out there, so it was gratifying to know I could attract male attention. Even hot men. Without needing to change who I am. I rather enjoyed that.

  Lance grabbed my hand, entwined our fingers, and led me to the bowling alley bar where he helped me onto the barstool. I wasn’t someone who frequented bowling alleys very often, but a bowling alley in the city was much different than one in a smaller town. It was fancy and kind of posh with white leather seating and exposed brick.

  Luckily, Lance gave me a heads-up that usually the bowling alley had a strict dress code, but once a month they had cosmic bowling night and encouraged bowlers to wear fun colors and white shirts to add to the atmosphere, otherwise, there was a no athletic wear and white-shirt policy. When did bowling alleys become judgmental snobs of a white shirt? Hello, have they seen the classic bowling shirt? Uh, tacky.

  “What can I get you?” he asked while calling the bartender over to us.

  “Um, how about a margarita? Can they make one of those?”

  “I’m sure they can.” When the bartender came over, Lance grabbed my hand and said, “Margarita on the rocks for this little lady and a Stella on tap for me, thanks.”

  “Big beer drinker?” I asked, trying to make conversation.

  “Love beer. Different craft beers are my favorite. I love traveling around and finding local breweries, little holes in the wall where they make their own brews. I’ve had some pretty stellar beers from local breweries”—he crinkled his nose and continued—“and I’ve had some donkey piss too.”

&nb
sp; A genuine laugh escaped me from the look on his face. “Oh no, that bad?”

  He nodded as the bartender set our drinks in front of us. Lance grabbed his beer and took a swig while turning in his seat to face me better.

  “I was in Milwaukee for a sailing boat photo shoot during the summer—”

  “There’s sailing boats in Milwaukee?” I asked, a little dumbfounded from finding that out. I’d always pictured Milwaukee as a frigid metropolis where snowmen and polar bears played a friendly game of ice hockey. Apparently not.

  “Yes. Summer in Milwaukee is huge. The city is right on Lake Michigan so sailing and speed boats are big during the summer season as well as music festivals. It’s quite a lively city in the summer, so if you ever get a chance, I suggest you go. And if you go, I suggest you don’t go to the brewery I went to. I can’t remember what it’s called, but I know exactly where it is, because when I was walking downtown, I saw a homeless person peeing on the corner of Michigan Ave. and I thought, instead of passing him and risk the possibility of getting pee all over me, I went into the brewery on the corner to get a drink. Little did I know, the homeless person was most likely helping make the beer.”

  “Ick, gross. Did they at least serve pretzels?”

  “No,” Lance said with outrage. “You would think there would be some sort of pretzel but there were none. Can you believe that?”

  “I can’t.” I giggled. “So have you traveled a lot?”

  He nodded as he sipped on his beer. “I’ve been all over the US and then of course outside the States.”

  “Really? Where?”

  “Let’s see, I’ve been to Europe, stuck my head up the center of the Eiffel Tower, I’ve been to the coastlines of Italy and Greece, as well as saluted the Queen of England. I’ve also been lucky to travel to Africa, South Africa mainly, and Australia, and let me tell you, both involve very long flights.”

  “I can imagine. What’s been your favorite place?”

  He paused and thought about the question, and I realized it was something I admired about him. He really took his time and put thought into his answers.

  “I would have to say Greece. There is something dramatic about the contrast of the vivid blue of the sea against the stark white of the buildings. It is a true photographer’s dream. Plus, the culture is exciting. The families are intense, and I like that. I have a close-knit family so being there made me think of home.”