Best of Penny Wylder: Virgin Romance

by Wylder, Penny

  I’m not really sure why I’m here. I mean, I know, but it still feels weird. I’m here because Kara invited me. How she got an invitation to a frat party before school even started, I have no idea, but I’m here to make sure she’s okay. I’ve heard way too many stories, and there’s no way I’m leaving her alone with a bunch of drunk frat guys at her first college party.

  That, and there’s the pact. Our virginity pact. We made it almost the minute that our first sex ed class was over. Boys were still icky, our heads were full of romance, and we swore to each other that we would wait for the right one.

  I didn’t think it would last as we got older, but it has. Kara takes it seriously, and she wanted backup, so here I am. I’m basically being the embodiment of awkward too. You’d think I’d be better at this—I’ve been to parties before in high school, and I’m not dumb enough to think that I wasn’t a part of the popular crowd.

  But this party seems so much bigger, wilder, louder. Just more. I guess I’ll have to get used to that. Pretty much all of college is going to be more than I’m used to. I take a sip of my drink and make a face. Beer has never been my thing and this isn’t good beer.

  A guy runs through the house, weaving through people with what looks like a full-blown torch in his hand, the flames flying up towards the ceiling. He’s being followed by other guys cheering him on. I have no idea what’s going on there. The last guy in the line is running too fast, trying to catch up, and he slips, crashing straight into me.

  I try to keep my balance, but it’s impossible, and I fall backward, my drink flying out of my hand. I land on the floor just in time to see my drink land on the girl behind me. Whoops.

  I push myself to my feet as the girl turns, eyes seething with anger. “I’m really sorry,” I say. “I was a collateral damage from whatever that was.” I gesture in the direction the torch-followers went. It takes me a second, but I realize I know this girl. “Marian, right? From the Cheer prep session?”

  This summer, Central Georgia State had a two-week training session for their current cheerleaders and any incoming freshman who wanted to be considered for the team. It was a way to get some early team building in and give everyone trying out a head start on what the team is like.

  A sickly sweet smile forms on Marian’s face. “Right. You’re one of the little freshies who was trying so hard to be something she’s not. And now you’re here, ruining my night.” She takes a step closer to me. “Do you have any idea who I am or how miserable I can make your life? Think twice about spilling your drink on me next time.”

  As she invades my space, I feel the people around us starting to look, to stare, waiting for the drama to explode. I guess there are some things that will be just like high school.

  I’m opening my mouth to protest, to tell her it was an accident again, but another voice speaks first. “Are you okay, babe? I saw you get pushed.”

  2

  An arm slips around my waist and I look up—whoa. I was expecting to push off some overly interested frat guy. The man—that’s the only word I can use for him—that’s touching me is the farthest thing from my image of a frat guy that I can think of.

  He towers over me in height, looking down at me with a smirk and a sparkle in his eye. He’s blond, and I don’t crush on blond guys but damn. He reminds me of one of those black and white perfume ads where the ridiculously good looking models hang out on boats or at the beach. Only he’s here, alive, in full color, touching me. His eyes are blue, and I’m surprised that I noticed, ‘cause I don’t usually notice things like that. But I can’t seem to stop staring at his eyes.

  He makes a small noise in his throat, and I realize I’ve been staring instead of answering the question that he asked. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  The corner of his mouth curls up into a deeper smile. Pulling me more firmly against him he says, “I see you’ve met Marian.”

  She scoffs, “You know her?”

  “Of course I do,” he says lightly. “This is my girlfriend. So don’t do what you usually do, Marian. Back off.”

  Her shoulders slump a little, and she looks back and forth between us with what looks like…jealousy? I do my best to look like we’re together—though I have no idea what that would look like—and not like I’m freaking out that a hot stranger has his hand on my waist.

  Marian gives me another scorching look and stalks off, every line of her body screaming with anger. I guess she’s not used to being confronted like that.

  I, however, feel like I’ve just run a marathon and have all the endorphins to prove it. I had an adrenaline rush and now have the happy high of someone who just survived something dangerous. I realize that hot-mystery-man still has his hand on my waist.

  I look up at him again. “Since I’m supposed to be your girlfriend, I think I should know your name.”

  He laughs. “Carter Hale, nice to meet you.”

  “April Collins,” I say. “I’d shake your hand but I think we’re already past that.” I glance down to where his arm is around my waist. Carter’s name sounds familiar to me, but I can’t put my finger on exactly why. “Thank you for that, I’d rather not have that kind of drama before the school year even starts.”

  “No problem.” His voice is deep and rumbly, mixing with the bass in the music. I can feel its vibrations from where he’s pressed against my side. “Would you like to dance? In my experience there’s far less drama on the dance floor.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “The only talking people are doing is with their bodies.” He smirks.

  I blush. The way his eyes travel up and down my body after his comment only makes me flush harder. “Sure.” At least if we’re dancing the focus will be less on how easily embarrassed I am.

  My waist feels cold as he lets go of me. I hadn’t realized how comfortable it felt. Not that I’ve had a lot of experience being held. I see Kara dancing, and I immediately feel better as Carter catches my hand and pulls me into the next room where the makeshift dance floor has popped up. A crowd of people move in time with the music, some far more entwined than I would think possible.

  Carter pulls me into the middle of the crowd, and once again, I’m pressed up against his body. I can’t say I mind the feeling. Underneath his clothes—which are more formal than everyone else at party—it’s not hard to tell that he has a body that he works out for. My mind flashes to Kara and what she might think if she saw me like this with Carter, but it’s only a dance, right?

  Right.

  I try to shut off my mind and let myself move. Not the easy task it might seem like. I’ve never really…danced like this. Cheer dance is one thing, all choreographed steps. You always know where you’re supposed to be. This makes me uneasy because it’s so loose, so unplanned. Anything could happen, and that’s what worries me. That’s also what excites me. Carter is gorgeous and I don’t want to leave. Not yet. Besides, I’m his girlfriend, right? I would be a terrible girlfriend if I didn’t dance.

  The song that’s playing is something that might have played at a dance in middle school. It’s a little out of touch with the tone of the party, but everyone’s having a good time with it. There are smiles all across the dance floor. Carter spins me out and in, and I find myself grinning, leaning into him. This feels…easy. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this simple. I’ve danced with guys before, but it always felt awkward and full of tension, like there was some kind of expectation that the dance was a commentary on our relationship. This doesn’t feel like that. I’d forgotten how fun just dancing could be.

  The light song ends, and the music shifts into something deeper and more rhythmic. Sexier. But still our dancing doesn’t lose that same easy chemistry. Our movements slow—we’re closer together. We’re entwined, just like those couples I saw earlier, but I didn’t expect it to feel this…good.

  I’m warm and tingly, aware of every place he’s touching me. And every place he’s touching me tells me that his clothes are hiding a body tha
t any of these girls in here would kill for. I let my own hands wander just a little bit, too. It’s strange and exhilarating—completely new territory that wakes up a longing in the pit of my stomach I can barely put a name to.

  The way his hands are on my waist is adding to my heat, and the way he’s looking down at me as we dance makes me want to pull him closer, if that were possible.

  Carter spins me again, this time slowly, and it’s almost like I can feel his eyes on my body as I turn. I can’t say that I don’t like it. I’ve never felt like this before, this kind of wanting more of someone else. Maybe I’ve been so busy keeping every guy away that I never thought about how it might feel.

  He pulls me in, his chest against my back, and his hands roam across my waist as our hips move in time with the music. There’s something stiff against my back, and I’m not sure—

  Oh my god.

  All the blood rushes to my face, and I freeze for a second, realizing that Carter, behind me, is hard. I’ve never felt an erection before, but there’s nothing else that this could possibly be. But that’s not the most startling part. The startling part is that I don’t mind it. I like knowing that I made him react like this. It makes me feel gorgeous and sexy and alive. Things that could easily get me into trouble and might lead to me breaking the pact. I should find Kara and see if she’s ready to leave. I came here to keep her out of trouble, not get into some myself.

  I step away from Carter quickly—too quickly, and I try to ignore the flash of hurt and confusion on his face. I lean up to his ear and say something about needing to find the bathroom, ducking quickly through the crowd of dancers before he can stop me. It’s better this way. If I leave now, he won’t be as disappointed that something can’t happen between us. Leading him on just wouldn’t be fair.

  But, as I head up the stairs, I can’t ignore the sick feeling in my stomach that feels too much like regret.

  3

  The bathroom isn’t hard to locate, and thankfully it’s empty. The mirror tells me that I’m flushed and excited—a confirmation that I made the right decision regardless of the way my stomach feels.

  I splash some water on my face before I leave, hoping it will help clear my head and cool me down. Time to find Kara. I don’t think she’s up here—upstairs at these parties means sex, which is something she’d try to avoid at all costs. Heading back down the hallway towards the stairs, I hear a moan come from my left.

  The door is open a crack, and I can hear more movement inside. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I press my face to the crack in the door. The room is mostly dark, but I can still see what’s happening. A couple is having sex. They’re both naked on the bed, limbs tangled. The guy’s on top, hips thrusting smoothly into his partner. The sight is like a shock to my senses. I knew people had sex at parties, but seeing it is completely different. This is the first time I’ve ever seen real sex. I mean sex in person. There was that porn I watched a couple times, but I felt so guilty afterward that I decided it wasn’t worth it anymore. But this is...different. This is exciting.

  I feel myself heat with a blush. There’s pressure in my core and a sudden wanting. I’m getting wet, my body reacting viscerally to the sight in front of me. I’ve touched myself before, always wondering what the real thing would feel like. My body is tingling, nipples hardening against my shirt. I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to be in that girl’s place. I imagine the heat on my skin, and the pleasure…

  I can feel the energy in the room, the way they’re so wrapped up in each other that nothing else matters. That same warm feeling from the dance floor takes over my body, and I realize that I want that. I want to know what that feels like—to be lost in someone. I imagine what it would be like to be on that bed, aware that the house is full of people that could walk in any second. I want to want someone that much that I would take that kind of risk for them, and they would do it for me.

  The girl gasps as he thrusts into her, and I jerk back from the door, suddenly realizing that I’m being a creeper. I shouldn’t be watching them. If it were me, I wouldn’t like to know that I was spied on by a random party-goer. I turn to continue towards the stairs and freeze again. Carter is at the top of the stairs, watching me.

  “You okay?” he asks. “You left really quickly, I thought you might be sick or something.”

  “Oh...no,” I say, grasping for the words. I’m certainly not going to tell him I was just spying on sex. I keep my voice low so the people inside don’t realize I’m right outside the door. “I’m fine. I was just looking for my friend.”

  There’s another moan from inside the room. This one is louder and very, very audible. Carter’s eyes go wide, and I see him notice the proximity between the door and me. A smirk crosses his face. “That’s not what I would have expected.”

  “Oh?” I’m suddenly nervous, a little embarrassed, and stretch my fingers out and curl them into fists—an old nervous habit.

  Carter crosses the hall to me, peeking through the crack in the door above my head. “You didn’t strike me as someone who just likes to watch.” His voice is soft like mine now. “Anyone who dances like that wants to be in on the action.”

  My face turns red, as it seems to have a terrible habit of doing around him.

  He holds up his hands. “But hey, everyone has their thing. Maybe yours is watching from behind a door.”

  Anger bubbles up, quick and fierce. “That is not my thing,” I hiss under my breath. “I don’t have a thing.” Here, this close to him, those same thoughts rise to the surface. What would it be like with him? He’s hot as hell, and I wouldn’t mind feeling him touch me again. I have the sudden urge to prove to him that I’m not someone who lurks in doorways watching other people get off.

  I move without thinking, pushing up onto my toes and pressing my mouth to his. His body freezes against mine. He wasn’t expecting it, and neither was I. I’m just as frozen as he is, our lips locked together. Then Carter moves all at once. He kisses me back while his arms come around me, practically lifting me off my feet to bring me closer.

  Wow. This is a kiss. It’s not my first kiss, but this one makes every other one I’ve had seem like nothing more than a peck on the cheek. It reaches deep, stirring up feelings I’ve never had before. Carter’s tongue sweeps across my lips, and we open to each other. Everything feels bigger, deeper. It’s consuming. There’s nothing my body wants more than to be closer to him. To feel his skin on mine. To feel him inside me—

  That thought brings my brain screeching to a halt. I want him. I don’t just want to kiss him. I want to...do other things with him. I’ve been training myself for so long to shy away from this, I can’t even bring myself to say it in my head. But deep down I feel settled. I know that this has been coming for a while. The older Kara and I got, the more I was the one shying away from our pact.

  Carter is staring at me, and I realize that I stopped kissing him. I’ve been staring at him, processing just how much I want to have sex with him. For him to—I force my brain to say it—fuck me. Kara always told me she wanted it to be special. Candles, roses, a wedding dress.

  I may not have realized it until just now, but I don’t want that. I don’t want it to be like some movie where the act of having sex for the first time is treated like some precious ritual. No. What I want is for it to be real. I want it to feel good. I don’t care about where. I just want the other person to crave me as much as I do them.

  “You okay?” Carter asks me for the second time tonight. This time his voice is rougher, eyes dark with what’s left of our kiss.

  I am okay. I’m more than okay. But I don’t have the words to tell him that. Instead, I choose action. I press my lips against his again, tangling my tongue with his. Carter groans, pulling me with him down the hall to another door. He pushes it open and we stumble through, barely managing to stay upright, each unwilling to let go.

  This room is empty and utterly dark as he kicks the door closed behind us. The air suddenly fe
els charged, like the energy we’re sending back and forth to each other is filling up the space around us. Carter pulls me against him and we fall onto the bed together.

  Every closeted desire I’ve had comes racing to the surface, and I can’t get enough. I have my hands in his hair and I love the way he moves his mouth to my neck, sucking at my skin. His lips feel like fire, sending burning pulses through me that echo all around and land between my legs. I’ve never been so close to someone like this and every touch feels bigger than it is. Carter’s hands are under my shirt, and my body arches into his touch, wanting to go faster, further. I’ve already gotten rid of Carter’s shirt, and my hands explore his body. I was right—it’s perfect, and I’m annoyed that it’s so dark in here and I can’t see what must be practically a work of art.

  Carter’s body presses me into the bed, and I can feel him lined up with me at every point—chest, hips, legs. Just like on the dance floor, he’s hard. I smile through our kiss, because I’m not running away from it. I like having this kind of power.

  His hips press into mine, and my body moves in response, legs moving apart. He moves again, and the hardness of him presses against me...there. I gasp into his mouth because it feels like something just exploded. I’ve been here before but not like this. This is something more. Every time his hips push into me, that unnamable pleasure builds a little more. I didn’t know it could feel this good even with our clothes still between us.

  Carter’s fingers stroke across my ribs, trailing across my stomach to the top of my jeans. Oh. I want him to touch me, I want him to go further, not to stop. He doesn’t. His hand slips under the fabric of my panties, and god—the feeling is pure heaven. I’ve never had anyone touch me there but myself and it’s SO much better.

  I touch him, reaching for his belt and fumbling in the dark. He’s so hard, even through the fabric, and I can tell he’s big. Oh god, could that even fit inside me? What if it hurts too much? Am I really going to do this? Carter makes a low sound as my fingers rub over him, so I do it again. I manage to get his belt open, but no further, because suddenly his fingers are there.