Chapter 14 #2
The inquiry shouldn’t sting, but it does. It’s a reminder of all the experiences I’ve observed from the sidelines, all the milestones I’ve missed.
“No,” I admit. “Never.”
Oliver’s eyebrows rise slightly, but there’s no judgment in his expression. Merely curiosity. “Never? Not even here?”
“Especially not here.” I fidget with the corner of a yellowed document. “I’m not exactly someone worthy of pursuing. And I’ve never been brave enough to pursue anyone myself.”
“What about kissing? You’ve at least—”
“No.” The word comes out sharper than I intend. “Never been kissed either. I’m a regular Drew Barrymore.”
Oliver’s quiet for a moment, processing. I can practically see the gears turning in his head, connecting dots I wish he’d leave unconnected. “So you’re…” He trails off, clearly trying to find a delicate way to phrase it.
“A virgin?” I supply, my face burning. “Yes, Oliver. I’m a twenty-year-old virgin who’s never been kissed, never been on a date, never done anything remotely romantic or sexual with another human being. Go ahead and add it to the list of ways I’m pathetically behind everyone else.”
“Hey.” Oliver’s voice is gentle but firm. Across the table, his knuckles brush the edge of my notes before his palm covers my clenched hand, hesitant at first, then settling with gentle pressure.“That’s not pathetic. That’s just your timeline. I didn’t lose my virginity until freshman year here.”
I blink at him. “What?”
He shrugs like this isn’t earth-shattering information.
“All that stuff in high school with Devon? It never went further than making out and handjobs. I wasn’t ready to go all the way.
I wanted it to mean something, even if I couldn’t articulate what that something was.
Then I got to BSU, and it happened. It was my choice, on my terms, when I was ready. ”
The revelation settles over me. Oliver Jacoby—hockey god, team captain, walking embodiment of confident sexuality—waited. Chose to wait. Didn’t see it as a failure or a shortcoming.
“Most people see the Oliver who exists now and assume I’ve always been this way. Like I emerged from the womb knowing how to flirt and fuck.” He laughs self-deprecatingly. “Trust me, I had my awkward years. My uncertain years. My ‘what the hell am I doing?’ years.”
“Hard to imagine.”
“That’s because you didn’t see me at fourteen, trying to figure out how to talk to boys without spontaneously creaming my pants.” Oliver’s smile turns nostalgic. “I was a mess, Ryan. A well-meaning, hockey-obsessed mess who had no idea how to navigate any of it.”
“What about the nine months?” I ask, emboldened by Oliver’s openness. “The Ice Queen made a big deal about you not…you know.”
Oliver sighs, leaning back in his chair until it creaks. “That wasn’t planned. It just kind of happened.”
“How does that ‘just happen’ for someone like you?”
“Someone like me?”
“You know.” I gesture at him—all of him. The broad shoulders, the easy confidence, the face that belongs on magazine covers. “You could have anyone you want. The idea that you’d go nine months without…”
“Without getting laid?” Oliver finishes, amused.
“Ryan, hookups take energy. Time. Mental space. And this year, all of that went to the team. When the Ice Queen started posting about us, everything changed. Suddenly, we weren’t just hockey players—we were content.
Every game, every party, every interaction was analyzed and dissected.
Gerard’s ass became a meme. Drew and Jackson’s relationship became a public spectacle.
And as captain, I had to hold everyone together while making sure none of it went to our heads. ”
“That sounds exhausting.”
Oliver rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t make a conscious decision to stop hooking up. I just…kept choosing other things. Team dinners instead of dating apps. Extra practice instead of parties. Making sure the freshmen were adjusting instead of pursuing my own stuff.”
“You put everyone else first.”
“It’s what captains do.” He says it simply, without self-pity. “And honestly? I don’t regret it. We won three championships. We stayed grounded when we could have easily become insufferable. The guys know they can count on me. Plus, I have hands. I still got my rocks off, just in a different way.”
I think about what that kind of selflessness costs. The loneliness it must create. The needs that go unmet until late at night because you’re busy meeting everyone else’s. “So why did you hook up after the championship?”
“I figured I’d earned a celebration. Nine months of being Captain Responsible, and we’d won our third title. I wanted one night of being a college kid.”
“Was it worth it?”
“The sex? Yeah, it was good. Scratched an itch.” He pauses. “But it didn’t fix anything. I woke up the next morning still feeling like I was going through the motions instead of actually living. I haven’t hooked up with anyone else since.”
“I can relate to the going through the motions thing,” I confess, choosing to sidestep the knowledge that Oliver only had that one night.
If I analyze it too deeply, I’ll start thinking things I shouldn’t, hoping things I have no right to hope for.
“I started feeling that way after my mom died. She was my person, you know? The one who saw me. Once she was gone, I retreated. I convinced myself that if I didn’t let anyone in, I wouldn’t lose anyone else. ”
“That’s a lonely way to live.”
“It’s the only way I knew how.” Until you came along.
The sound of a door opening and footsteps entering the basement cuts through our conversation. Elliot’s voice floats through the space. “Break time.”
We all scurry out like mice who haven’t seen the sunlight in a very long time. But for me, I don’t think what I’m doing is scurrying. I’m escaping the heaviness that has been my life and running toward something better.