1
Valentina
The Senior party is already in full swing when Birdie, Ava, and I arrive.
And clearly, I am not a thrill seeker because I’m ready to leave before this thing even begins. But when your roommates drag you out of your apartment because they want to “share an experience that will never happen again”—Ava’s words—you can’t say no.
Birdie and I not only stayed friends after our one class together Freshman year, but we also ended up moving in together during our second semester.
Ava moved in shortly after, after she had been living with other people who told her she would have her own room.
She didn’t. Instead, she was sharing a single room with four other girls. And the worst part, there was only one bathroom.
Originally, she only moved in as a roommate. But it was hard not to become friends with Ava and her eccentric personality.
Which leads to me being at this party instead of at home, getting my schedule sorted for the upcoming semester. But I’m a good friend, so I came.
But even though we came here together, I’ve already lost them. I think they went to get a drink, but my attention has been focused on the stage.
Right now, a few people are up there getting ready for their set. I’ve heard rumors that these Senior parties typically bring in a local artist to play, hoping for more exposure with a younger crowd. But that isn’t the case this year.
Well, sort of.
I think most consider him a college student before calling him a local artist. I’m just surprised he’s not considered a full-time celebrity at this point.
The crowd suddenly erupts into cheers, pulling my focus to the man jumping onto the stage. He makes his way to the mic and smiles at the audience. The same easy smile I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since Freshman year.
“What’s up, class of 2026!?” he yells out.
The crowd erupts again, but I’m frozen.
Huxley Adams.
The guy I thought would be touring the world right now. The guy I thought would have multiple albums out, each winning him even more awards.
I did hear a rumor that he was serious about getting his degree, so if the whole singer thing didn’t work out for him, he had something to fall back on. It seems highly unlikely he won’t be a singer, but I still admire that he’s stayed in college and is determined to earn his degree.
The worst part of all this—or maybe that’s just me—is that he’s only gotten better.
Better at playing and performing, but also better looking.
His hair has grown some since Freshman year, reaching about an inch or two down his neck—tattoos spreading over both of his arms, and his hands still sport rings on every finger.
Not to mention he’s stronger now. He had some muscle back then, but he managed to bulk up, making himself look even more intimidating.
Another round of screams pierces through the room as Huxley flips his hair out of his face.
Well, not too intimidating, I guess.
That’s the thing about Huxley Adams. Even if he wasn’t a talented musician, the reaction he gets from people would still be the same. And by people, I mainly mean girls.
I’ve heard more stories about him having sex than anyone else. Some people call him a sex addict. And some even say he has more sex than pornstars. That if he weren’t a musician, that’s what he would do with his life. I don’t believe that, but I also don’t know him that well.
We aren’t friends by any means, but after our first and only class together, we’ve occasionally bumped into each other on campus. And every time he calls me Valentine—a name I’ve only let him call me, just like he said Freshman year.
“I don’t know about all of you, but this party seems a bit dull,” he says into the mic. His eyes scan the room, smiling at a few people in front of him. “So what do you say we liven it up?”
The crowd cheers again as he pulls his guitar over his body, quickly counting off the band to begin his set.
The room moves to his voice the second he starts singing. Girls are screaming and pushing to get to the front, but I keep myself against the wall in the back of the room.
His attention mainly stays on the girls in front of him, which makes sense. They’re probably easier to see than others. He probably wants to catch the attention of one of them so he can take her home afterward.
And no, I’m not jealous.
I know my place in Huxley Adams’ life, and it’s not in the front row of his show.
He pulls back from the mic, eyes lifting as he plays. Then, slowly, his head turns in my direction. And his smile grows.
Is he looking at me? And smiling? I glance at the people around me and see other girls nearby. Girls who are yelling and screaming for his attention.
My eyes jump back to the stage where Huxley’s staring at the girls in the front row again.
Why get your hopes up at the obvious? Of course, he’s not looking at you.
An unwanted ache fills my chest that I’ve been trying to ignore for the last few years. However, it only gets harder as more time passes.
No matter how much I try to fight it, my mind knows how to torture me. And believing that I could be anything to Huxley Adams is part of that torture.
I turn from the stage and let his voice carry out behind me.
“There you are.” Birdie walks up to me with a cup in her hand. She dyed her hair bleached blonde Sophomore year and has been messing around with different colors ever since. Now, she sports a light pink color that brightens her face.
“I said, let’s go get a drink, and you were gone.”
I glance at her cup. “Sorry. I was…”
I gesture towards the stage, and Birdie sighs. “Still?”
She was okay with the crush during Freshman year, but after hearing the rumors of Huxley being a sex addict, she immediately grew worried about my feelings and told me it was better to ignore him.
That someone like Huxley Adams shouldn’t be the guy you have feelings for.
And even though I agree with her, it’s not something I can easily shake.
I shrug. “I guess so.”
Ava comes over and slips her arms over both of our shoulders, putting most of her weight onto us. “This isn’t as fun as I thought it would be, and I’m starving,” she whines.
“When are you not hungry?” Birdie asks. Ava glares at her, then turns to me with softer eyes, the light blue contrasting with her dark red hair.
“How long you think your crush is going to sing for?”
“He usually…” My voice dies off as her words start to register. Ava merely lifts her eyebrow, waiting for an answer. I clear my throat. “I don’t know. Probably as long as the crowd lets him go for.”
“That could be hours,” Birdie adds.
“But I’m hungry,” Ava groans, slumping into me as if she’ll pass out if she doesn’t eat right this second. I know she won’t because she ate before we left. And two hours before that. And I think an hour before that as well. Sometimes it’s hard to keep track of how much she eats in a day.
“After three songs, we’ll leave,” Birdie tells her. “That way we can pretend we aren’t people who like to sleep before 10 o’clock.”
Ava groans again but reluctantly agrees.
We stay for three songs, but unfortunately, Ava gets a little more tipsy and completely forgets how hungry she was a moment ago.
Talks of after-parties fill the room, but I want nothing more than to go home.
I’ve never been a partier, and I only came tonight because this was specifically for Seniors. After parties involve anyone and everyone, and things are more likely to get out of hand. It’s just not for me. But Ava practically begs us to go to an afterparty so she can dance some more.
“Just an hour,” Birdie agrees.
I groan as Ava cheers, and we head out to find a house close to where we live, mainly, so Birdie and I will have an easier time walking Ava home if she gets herself completely drunk.
But that doesn’t seem likely now that we’re here.
It’s only been 20 minutes, and nothing exciting is happening.
Barely anyone is dancing, and the alcohol is mediocre.
Not that I drink, for lack of a better reason other than I simply don’t want to, but I can tell by everyone else’s faces and the lack of drunk students walking around that this party isn’t up to par.
The three of us are standing in a doorway, watching two people practically fuck in front of everyone. His hand moves under her shirt while he kisses her neck. Her head falls back while she gropes him. And then both their hands go down each other’s pants.
That’s how I really know how boring this party is—people are ignoring these two almost fuck rather than watching.
Normally, when something like this happens, someone’s telling them to get a room before the clothes come off, or people are cheering them on. Now, they couldn’t care less.
Ava’s arm moves over my shoulders as she points to the couple in front of us. “When will that be you, ViVi?” she asks with wonder in her eyes, like she’s talking about me becoming the first female president rather than me fucking someone.
My eyes widen. “Excuse me?”
She sighs. “Look, I love calling you ViVi, but you need to get out there. Have sex finally. Enjoy the pleasures of living.”
When I first met Ava, she told me that Val was too simple of a nickname and she wanted something unique and special to call me.
To try to figure out said nickname, she started asking me questions about myself.
When I told her I was a virgin, she happily explained that she would call me ViVi—Virgin Valentina. It’s terrible, but it stuck.
“I can’t just go sleep with someone.”
“Yes, you can.” She gestures to the people standing around the room we’re in. “Literally go find someone random, ask them to have sex, and get it over with. It’s not that hard.”
I glance at Birdie, who merely shrugs. “I mean, you could. But only if you really wanted to. It is your first time.”
Ava waves her off. “First times mean nothing. They’re basically trial runs for the real thing. So just go, have sex, and then start looking for Mr. Right.”
I scan the room, letting her words sink in.
Sure, there are some guys that I think are cute, and I may have wondered a few times what it would be like to sleep with them, but that was never for a one-and-done type of thing.
And I honestly doubt I could ever be someone who participates in casual sex.
The idea of sleeping with someone and it meaning nothing but pleasure just doesn’t sit right in my mind. I have no problem with people who do it, and some days I wish I was like that, but my heart and mind might be a bit too fragile to handle something like that.
“ViVi.” I reluctantly look back at Ava. “Just do it,” she tells me a little more gently. “There are so many hot guys here who would love to have sex with you. So go enjoy it.”
I sigh and look back out at the room full of people. I guess one time can’t hurt. Right?
My eyes lock with a guy across the room. He smiles and looks me over.
Maybe this won’t be as hard as I thought.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
Ava squeals happily and shoves me forward. “Go get that dick!”