by Amy Daws
“Lower your voice,” Freya hisses, her jaw taut with aggravation. Her eyes dart to the right, and I follow her gaze to see the absolute sleekit, no-good bawbag in question.
Santino rises from his seat and eyes me with an arrogant look that I want to knock right off his smug face. He has an uncanny ability to look around the world as if it’s his. Like he’s done a lot of work to get here and he gets to enjoy it. I fucking hate it.
I stride towards him, ignoring Freya’s quiet pleas behind me. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Maclay,” Santino drones, his voice like a wet fucking blanket full of premature ejaculation stains. “Are you joining us?”
“Fuck no,” I reply flatly, my pulse quickening. “And neither is Freya.”
Santino cracks an awkward smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Is there a problem here?”
I exhale heavily through my nose and place my hands on my hips. “Of all the women you have at your disposal, you really needed to seek out my best mate?”
“Best mate?” Santino repeats the words like it’s the first he’s ever heard them. “Freya said she hasn’t spoken to you in days.”
His words feel like a punch in my gut, and I turn my hurt expression towards my friend.
Freya chews her lower lip. “I didn’t say it like that. He asked about you, and I said I hadn’t spoken to you. That’s all.”
She nervously wrings her hands in front of her, and I hate it. I hate this entire scene. And I especially hate that Santino thinks he has the right to voice my fucking name to my fucking friend.
I redirect my lethal stare back to him. “You don’t need to worry a thing about my friendship with Freya, all right? You just need to know that she’s mine, okay, pal?”
“Yours?” he scoffs. “I didn’t force her to come here tonight, Maclay.”
My knuckles crack in fists at my side as I turn to eye Freya. “Tell him you’re leaving with me, Freya. Now.”
“Leaving with you?” she asks, her wide eyes whirling with confusion. “What on earth are you talking about, Mac? I’m on a date.”
I shake my head slowly. “I need you to trust me when I tell you that we need to leave.”
“Mac,” Freya states, her chin trembling. “Why are you doing this?”
“Who do you trust? Him? Or me?” My voice is increasing in volume, but I can’t help it. Every time I’m around Santino, I lose my fucking temper.
Freya sniffles as she glances at Santino. With a resounding sigh, she leans over and picks up her clutch off the table. “I’m so sorry, Santino,” she says, her voice shaky and on the verge of crying.
Fuck it. I don’t care. This is what best mates are for. I reach out to grab her hand, but she yanks it away from me like I burnt her and storms off towards the exit. I give Santino one last withering stare and turn to follow her out the door.
Mac and I are both completely silent as he drives in the direction of my flat. Part of me wants to reach across the console and punch him square in the nose. Another part of me wants to scream at him that he has some bleddy nerve sabotaging my date and humiliating me.
A larger part of me is scared to do anything because I’ve never seen him like this. So angry. So demanding. So unapologetic. This isn’t the Mac whom I’ve grown to know on my sofa, eating takeaway, and catching wine gums in his mouth. This is a different beast altogether. I need to tread carefully.
What on earth is his history with Santino that turns him into such a raving lunatic? I want to ask, but I’m afraid to.
I honestly don’t want to give a toss. What he did to me back at the restaurant was completely uncalled for and unacceptable. I’m a grown-arse woman. I should be able to make my own decisions about whom I will date. The only reason I agreed to leave with Mac is because everyone was staring at us in the restaurant, and I was horrified by the thought of someone taking a photo.
Mac pulls up to my flat, and without a word, I get out of the car and storm towards my door. I hear him approaching behind me, so I turn on my heels and nearly thrust my chest into him as I exclaim, “Don’t think for one second you’re coming inside!”
He has the nerve to look shocked. “Why the hell not?”
My eyes go wide, and my jaw drops. “Because you and I are in a very, very big fight. Do I seriously have to tell you that?”
Mac scoffs and aggressively shoves his hand through his hair. “What I did back there was for your own good, Cookie.”
“Don’t you Cookie me,” I growl, stepping forward and jabbing a finger into his chest. He doesn’t budge. God, he is maddening. “You don’t get to ignore me for days, then show up at my date and act like an overprotective father who’s caught his daughter having The Sex in a car or something!”
“Would you stop saying ‘The Sex’? You sound ridiculous,” he growls, his angry eyes fierce on mine.
“Thanks to you, any chance I had of having The Sex tonight has been completely shattered.”
Mac’s eyes flare with rage. “I’d rather die than see you have sex with that fucking wank,” he seethes and actually spits on the ground beside us. “He’s slept with half the population of London, Freya, and only because the other half are all men.”
“Who cares?” I scream and grip the sides of my head because I feel like the entire world is spinning. “Maybe I’m looking for an easy shag!”
“The fuck you are,” Mac replies harshly. “You’re not the casual sex type, especially since the only people you have shagged are the ones you’ve been in love with.”
“You don’t know me as well as you think you do, you arrogant, conceited animal!”
“What the fuck are you going on about? I’m around you all the time. I know you, Freya. I know you better than most people. I—”
“I’m a virgin, you big, stupid ox!” My voice is loud and echoes down the nearby alley as I shut him up for good at last.
There’s a strange suspension of reality that happens around us for a few seconds, where it feels like the earth has stopped rotating and all that exists is my anger and Mac’s anger, sizzling between us like an electric current.
When I finally realise what I just shouted for all of London to hear, my legs suddenly feel like pudding. With a shaky exhale, I turn away from Mac’s stupefied expression to go sit down on the front step of my building before I proceed to die of mortification. If I don’t die of mortification, then I will murder myself in the name of mortification. Whichever comes first.
My eyes are wide and shooting back and forth in horror. This is all my fault. This entire night, this entire week, this entire situation is something I put myself through by allowing Mac to be my stupid love coach. How ridiculous! All I wanted to do was find a nice date for Allie’s wedding, and, oh yeah, perhaps lose my virginity in the process before my thirtieth birthday. Was that really too much to ask the universe? What a fool I am!
I look up to find Mac blinking back his shock. His mouth is hanging wide open like a fly trap, and he still hasn’t moved a muscle since my humiliating confession.
“Don’t just stand there like an idiot,” I hiss, ready to strangle him for his reaction because it’s only adding fire to the flames of my embarrassment.
Finally, Mac shakes his head and turns to look at me, his eyes narrowing. “You’re fucking with me, right?”
I gape at him. “Why would I fuck with you about something so pathetic?” I pin him with a furious glower. “I’m serious, Mac. I’m an almost thirty-year-old virgin. I’ve never had The Sex, and I’m sadly inexperienced.”
Mac’s mouth opens in shock again as he moves to sit beside me, stretching his long legs out in front of him. The corner of his mouth tips up as he softly laughs. “You’re not a virgin. You would have told me.”
“Oh, just like you would have told me why you hate Santino?” I retort, bringing him up short.
All humour vanishes from his face as he turns to look at me, his brows furrowed sharply together. “But when I started coaching you, you said you were just havi
ng a dry spell. To have a dry spell means you would’ve had to have been wet at one point.”
I shake my head. “You took it that way, and I didn’t bother to correct you. But honestly, Mac, think about it. You know me. Do you think I really would have agreed to let you be my love coach if I was just having a dry spell?”
“Christ, woman,” he snaps, his eyes dropping down my body like he’s seeing me in a new light. “You’re a fucking virgin, and you never told me? I’m your best mate! Why wouldn’t you share that information with me?”
“We don’t talk about The Sex!” I exclaim defensively.
“I know, but this seems like something you should have mentioned to me at some point.” He stands up and begins pacing in front of me, shaking his head like he’s just been told the world is round for the first time and he can’t fully wrap his mind around it. “Christ, a virgin?”
“Would you stop saying it like it’s that big of a deal?” I snap, my entire body folding in on itself with embarrassment.
“It is a big deal,” he replies, stopping his pacing to glower down at me with his hands on his hips.
“It’s not a big deal to me!” I exclaim and stand up to meet him eye to eye. Well, more like eye to chest. “I’m not saving myself or something. It’s not some religious thing, and it’s not for lack of trying. I’ve put myself out there in the past, in all my awkward glory, and it just never happened for some reason,” I huff, angry that I have to explain how romantically unlucky I’ve been. “Then I just got tired of trying so hard, so I took a break and focused on my career. A long break, I suppose. But I’m done with all that now. I’m eager to get shot of my maiden tag as soon as possible, which is why I thought going out on a date with Santino would be a good idea. Especially if he’s experienced like you say.”
Mac’s face contorts. “What the actual fuck is a maiden tag?”
I flush, not realising I said that bit out loud. Shrugging, I reply, “It’s what my gran called my virginity.” I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling very exposed under the London night sky.
Mac visibly tremors. “You’re not giving your maiden tag to that fucking arsehole,” he seethes, finally realising what my last comment meant.
“Well, not now obviously,” I reply with agitation. “You basically ruined that chance for me.”
“Good,” he retorts.
“Not good for me!” I snap and jut my chin up at him. “I don’t know what your problem is with Santino, but you are my friend, so I’ll trust you and stay away from him. But you have to understand that you can’t protect me from everything, even if you do fancy yourself my love coach. I’m going to lose my virginity to someone at some point, and he’s probably not going to be perfect.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t know you’re a virgin,” Mac replies, staring down at me, his eyes softening around the edges. “I’m a shite love coach.”
I laugh at his candid response and then reach up to brush his hair off his forehead. Thank God, he sounds like Mac again—the guy who has the decency not to laugh when I cry during emotional scenes on Heartland.
He closes his eyes, and his entire body relaxes into my caress. When he opens them, his green eyes hold something in them that I’ve never seen before. Tenderness, perhaps?
“I’m sorry, Cookie,” he croaks, his voice low as he wraps his inked arms around my shoulders and crushes me to his hard body. “I shouldn’t have barged in like that. I just see red when it comes to that guy.”
I exhale against his chest and breathe in his familiar scent of soap and detergent. “Someday you’re going to have to tell me why.”
I feel his head nod as it rests on top of mine. “Someday maybe I will.”
I pull back and smile softly up at him. “I’m going to bed. Having my friend cause a scene on a rooftop in London has a surprisingly exhausting effect on me.”
He shoots me a rueful smile as he grips the back of his neck. “Sorry about that.”
I shrug. “There wasn’t a love connection with Santino anyway. I’ll find some other sorry bloke to hand my maiden tag off to.” Mac grimaces, and I reach up to playfully chuck his chin. “Come on, love coach. Talking about my virginity label shouldn’t make you so uncomfortable.”
He laughs awkwardly, and then I give him a quick squeeze before waving goodbye and heading inside.
I’ve just stepped inside the lift when Mac suddenly slips in through the door before it closes on him. “Most people lose their virginity at sixteen,” he says, seemingly out of breath for some odd reason.
I frown at his very random statement. “Yeah, I know, Mac. I’m not like most people.” I reach past him to press the number five on the panel, and the lift takes off. “Thanks for reminding me of that sad fact.”
Mac shakes his head and turns me to face him. “No, I just mean most people are young, so they forget how bad it is. You’re not young, Cookie.”
“Fuck off,” I snap, yanking my arms out of his grasp. I turn forward to scowl at the lift doors, willing the ride to go faster before I punch my best friend in his annoyingly square jaw.
“I’m trying to tell you that you’re not just a kid giving it away in the back of a car.” Mac moves to stand in front of me, demanding my full attention. His expression is earnest when he adds, “Your…maiden tag is special. Your first time should mean something. It should be with someone you care about. Someone you trust.”
I exhale heavily, his words causing a pang of uneasiness inside my chest. “Look, Mac, you know I’m crap at dating. I can’t even find a date for Roan and Allie’s wedding, let alone find a man whom I trust enough to have sex with. If I keep waiting for a boyfriend to have sex with, I might never lose it.”
“I’m not talking about a boyfriend,” Mac replies, his voice getting weirdly husky.
“What are you talking about then?” I nearly whine because this entire conversation is seriously my worst nightmare.
He swallows and looks down, an uncomfortable stiffness to his shoulders that I rarely ever see on him. “I’m talking about me,” he murmurs to the ground.
The lift doors open, and I stare at my best friend, mouth agape, eyes blinking in complete and utter shock. “If this is you taking the piss…”
“It’s not, Freya,” he says, grabbing my arm to lead me out into the hallway. His expression is fierce when he adds, “I was blindsided when you first told me, but then it dawned on me. It makes perfect sense to me. I’m your best mate. You trust me. Maybe if I help you with this, you won’t be so crap at dating anymore. I suspect walking around as a thirty-year-old virgin is part of the issue you have when speaking to men. Maybe if you were more experienced, you wouldn’t get so tongue-tied.”
I burst out laughing, my entire body shaking with hysteria because he has to be having a go with me. “Mac, I don’t believe what you’re saying right now.”
His face is stony serious when he replies, “Freya, I wouldn’t joke about this.”
My humour begins to die. “You kissed me, then I didn’t hear from you for days. If we have sex, surely I will lose my best friend forever!”
Mac winces at my very pointed jab, but I don’t care. If he thinks he can have sex with me and act normal, he’s seriously delusional.
“That was me being daft. I’m sorry about that.”
“You’re sorry,” I repeat, turning my shoulder on him and digging into my handbag for my keys. I unlock my flat door, and Mac follows me inside. I turn on my heels and hold my hand up to stop him in the foyer. “You and I haven’t gone a day without texting in over a year. Then after one stupid kiss, you ghosted me for days. Why would I risk losing you for sex, Mac?”
“You won’t lose me,” he says softly, his eyes wide on mine as he reaches out and tries to touch my cheek.
I pull away from his grasp and walk into my dining area to drop my handbag on the table. “How do you know?” I ask, making my way into the kitchen for some water.
He falters for a moment before answering, �
��Well, I’m still mates with Cami, and we had sex for over two years.”
I freeze with my hand on the refrigerator handle and slowly turn around to look at him standing in my dining room. “You still speak to her?”
Mac nods, his jaw tense. “We have lunch nearly every week when I’m in town.”
“You have lunch with her every week?” I exclaim, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. I close it and turn to face him again. “Why have you never told me that?”
Mac shrugs. “I think you and I are finding we still don’t know a lot about each other.”
“And you think adding sex is a good idea?” I ask with a laugh, walking past him and into my living room.
He follows me. “Sex with me is always a good idea, Cookie.”
I turn to see his comedic face, and I can’t help but laugh at him trying to give me sexy bedroom eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead serious.” He shoots me a cheeky smile and shrugs. “You know what they say, ‘A beard that rocks the red is a beard that rocks in bed’.”
I burst out laughing. “Who says this? I’ve never heard this said. Who is the they you’re referring to?”
Mac’s smile falters. “They are clearly dead brilliant, that’s all I know.”
“Answer me then, who are they?” I repeat, my eyes wide and curious.
“Stop asking me that,” he snaps, his face turning red. “I don’t know, but they clearly know what they are talking about because I have it on good authority that I’m great in the sack.”
My brows lift. “If you don’t know who they are, then you can’t possibly know that.”
“Stop talking circles around me, woman. You know I can’t keep up with the spinning of that fucking gerbil wheel you call a brain!”
I smile sweetly. “For a love coach, you really should be better under pressure.” I offer him my water bottle and drop down on the sofa.
He takes a fortifying sip and sits down beside me. “I just don’t want your first time to be with some arsehole who doesn’t take his time. Doesn’t make sure you’re ready. Or worse yet, some polite, shy lad who has a good job and pleated trousers. Who holds doors open and picks up the cheque before asking, ‘Ma’am, may I come inside you, please?’”