Chapter 10
W e spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach, soaking up the sun and basking in the warmth of our budding relationship. In between dips in the ocean, we lounged in our beach chairs under the sparse shade of the umbrella. I took the opportunity to unwind from my normally busy schedule and take a nap. Tristan had a paperback book in one hand while the other one rested on my thigh. His touch sent warm pulses through my body as I dozed off.
Every hour or so, our heat-drenched bodies would beg for a dip in the cool ocean. Out in the open water, surrounded by waves with the beach activity just a faint blur behind us, we pushed the boundaries of our relationship even further. More salty kisses, more of our wet half-clothed bodies pressed against each other. Tristan’s affection evolved into desire, and I had to hold back a moan as he slid the tip of his thumb underneath my bikini bottoms.
Once evening arrived and the salty air grew dimmer, we packed up and headed inside for the night. My mind raced and my stomach swirled as hot anticipation made my body flush.
I would not be afraid.
Fear would only make sex more painful.
Fear was the enemy.
We barely managed to haul the chairs and towels inside before Tristan had me pinned against the wall. This time, I didn’t stifle the sounds that escaped me as his kisses cascaded down my body. Our teasing the entire afternoon paled in comparison to this; it was like a pressure valve had been released. I was still dripping saltwater as his hands trailed up to my breasts, and a bulge was already visible through his bathing suit.
Heat prickled up my temples and around the back of my ears until they rang like gongs. My nerves crackled with electricity, and my pulse whirred through my head and into my pelvis like a hurricane.
I was so lost in a sea of passionate kisses and roaming hands that by the time we made it to the bed, I hadn’t realized Tristan had undone my bathing suit. The frilly fabric slid off the bed in a sea of loose straps, leaving my sandy breasts exposed.
I’d put on some weight since college and was now a respectable B-cup, but I still felt insecure as Tristan cupped them in his hands.
“They’re lovely,” he breathed as he covered them in more kisses.
We were fully unclothed in less than a minute, our bathing suits a wet, forgotten heap of fabric on the floor. We were both a mess, our skin still sandy and sticky with saltwater and our hair tangled and unkempt from the ocean wind. But somehow, it made the feeling of his body against mine even more pleasurable. Even more arousing .
I loved how he was so forceful yet so gentle at the same time. He had an overwhelming desire for me, but he still knew I was a virgin and to take it slow. He started with a single finger pressed against the top of my vulva, rubbing in steady circles until my whole body was on fire.
It felt amazing. It was the most amazing thing I’d ever experienced in my entire life.
Tristan sat up, positioning himself between my legs. As he fumbled with a condom, I took a moment to admire him. He was bigger than Tyler, and a lot girthier. I knew girls normally preferred them larger, but it only made me more nervous.
If Tyler’s couldn’t fit, how could his?
“It’s okay,” Tristan whispered in a soothing tone, pressing my body against the soft comforter. “Deep breaths. I’ll go slow.”
He steadied his hands on my thighs, slowly pulling his hips closer to mine.
It was time.
I’m not afraid.
I refused to be afraid.
I refus —
I screamed. As soon as Tristan realized it wasn’t one of pleasure, he scrambled backward as if I’d just kicked him in the genitals.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his face twisted in bewilderment.
I paused to catch my breath, forcing the tension out of my legs as my thigh muscles softened. “Sorry, sorry. I panicked. Can we try again?”
Tristan nodded. He crawled back into bed, reassuring me with a few hungry kisses placed on my collarbone and breasts. It felt so good. He felt so good.
I wanted this more than anything. Why did my body always act otherwise?
As Tristan entered me, he placed his hands on my vulva, attempting to spread my lips to make more room. This resulted in another scream, as pain burned through my vagina like it was on fire.
Tristan fumbled backward, now more concerned than confused. This was no longer just anxiety from being a virgin. He knew something was wrong.
“It’s that painful?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
I nodded, tears threatening to spill from my eyes as my breath caught in my throat. “I’m so sorry…I thought this time it wouldn’t hurt as much, and…”
“Wait. This isn’t your first time?”
My mouth snapped shut. I realized that by not telling Tristan the whole truth, I’d made him think I’d never been with a guy before.
“My ex, back in college. We tried a few times.”
“And it was always this painful?”
I nodded. My limbs began to shake.
His brows narrowed. “And you didn’t think to tell me this beforehand?”
It was as if a bomb had gone off in my stomach. I sat upright, my mouth hanging open but unable to utter a single word.
I was an idiot. It had never occurred to me that concealing my issues would make him upset. Maybe this wasn’t just about sex. It was about honesty. Trust. Hiding the truth from someone I was forming a relationship with wasn’t my best idea.
Even when it was the most painful truth of my life.
Tristan sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I get it. I imagine that’s tough to talk about. It’s just…I sort of feel betrayed. If we’re go ing to be in a relationship, I need you to trust me enough to tell me these things.”
“But is it a dealbreaker?”
“What?”
“My sexual issues.” I crawled off the bed and stood up. My impending tears had vanished, my fear replaced by hard, cold indignation. “Because the truth is, I’ve had this problem my whole life. Sex has always been too painful for me. I finally got help yesterday and went to a physical therapist, but I don’t know how long it will take for me to fix this. It could be weeks. Months, even. Is that going to be a dealbreaker for you?”
Tristan didn’t say a word. His face was hard as stone, and I could see the realization sinking into his features.
After nearly a minute, I couldn’t handle the silence. Tears poured freely from my eyes, staining the carpet at my feet.
“That’s what I thought,” I hissed, barely able to hide the anger in my voice. “I like you, Tristan. A lot. If you’re going to get upset with me for not telling the truth, don’t you dare act like it’s not an issue. So, please, tell me honestly… is this a dealbreaker ?”
Tristan was still silent. He looked…upset. Maybe even angry. His head hung low at his shoulders, and he refused to make eye contact. Instead, he slunk off the bed, grabbing a pair of boxers as his deep sigh of frustration hung in the heavy air.
I didn’t want to wait around for him to say something. I already knew what his answer was, and I couldn’t handle another round of tears. I stormed away from the bed, threw my beach dress back over my head, and wheeled my suitcase out of the condo.
Tristan was still lingering near the bed when I slammed the door behind me. He didn’t bother to pursue me, which gave me an even more definite answer .
I managed to hold in the tears until I was in the parking lot. My shaking fingers struggled to dial Cassidy’s number.
“Hello?”
“Cass? It’s me.”
“Avery? What’s wrong? Are you crying?”
She could hear it through the phone. My voice was muffled with sobs.
“Can you come pick me up from Daytona?”
“Of course. Can you text me the address?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there soon. Hold on, Avery. It’ll be ok.”
More sobs erupted as I hung up the phone. Avery didn’t ask what was wrong, but she already knew. Me calling and asking for a ride meant something went wrong with Tristan.
I sniffled, wiping my nose. I knew this weekend might end badly, and sobbing into a phone in a beach condo parking lot was one of the worst possible outcomes.
And the worst part was that he had every right to reject me. I was broken. Truly, horribly broken.
I couldn’t expect him to stick around and pick up the pieces.
I feared no guy ever would.
By the time Cassidy’s car pulled onto the condominium parking lot, it was already dark. Which was good, because it hid how red and splotchy my face was after almost an hour of crying.
I didn’t say much on the way home, and Cassidy didn’t press me for answers. She drove in silence, the car stereo playing pop songs at a low volume. But she occasionally reached out to place a hand on my shoulder.
I wasn’t ready to talk. My throat was too choked up to speak, and my mind was still processing what had happened. All weekend long, this is what I had feared. It was what I had anticipated from the moment I agreed to this trip. But what had kept me together, what prevented me from breaking down entirely, was hope. Hope that despite my fears and past trauma, I would be able to finally lose my virginity. Hope that our night would end with me curled up on his chest in post-orgasmic bliss, and not with me sobbing in a parking lot.
But now that hope was gone. And there was nothing left to keep me from coming undone.
I kept my sobs to a minimum on the drive home, letting defiant tears fall silently down my cheeks. But as soon as we made it home and I was alone in the suffocating sanctity of my room, I let it all out. As I howled into my pillow, I remembered how frustrated I felt when I learned about vaginismus a few days earlier. How I was so angry that I wanted to punch something.
Now I wanted to tear the whole bedroom apart. I wanted to watch it crumble around me. It already felt like the rest of my world was.
But I couldn’t. Because I still needed to wake up tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, and continue life as normal. I had to pretend that I wasn’t a rejected, broken mess, with my heart hollowed out from the inside. I had to move on.
So I took my rage out on my pillow instead, gripping it in my fists until my knuckles lost blood flow. I remained that way for nearly an hour when a sudden buzz of my phone pulled me out of my distraught trance.
I scooped it up, and my stomach twisted when I saw Tristan’s name.
Don’t .
Don’t open it.
But I had to. The anticipation would eat me alive if I didn’t.
Hey Avery. I’m so sorry about that. I panicked, and you deserved a proper response and not me just sitting there like an idiot. You’re an amazing person, you really are. But intimacy is important to me, and I don’t think I can handle —
I didn’t bother to read the rest. I tossed my phone across the bed, and it skidded across the comforter before smacking against the opposite wall and plummeting to the ground.
He can’t handle this.
Of course he can’t.
Even I can’t handle it.
It was over. That damning text was the final door closing on our relationship. I’d likely never see him again, and I needed to delete his messages and number before they consumed me whole.
Tristan decided my sexual dysfunction was too much for him. The problem was that I still had to live with it, and my ability to handle heartbreak was rapidly running out.
I grabbed my phone off the floor and tapped open my dating app.
There. Deleted.
No more online dating for me.
I was done. I couldn’t handle it anymore.
My illness had won.