8
Huxley
How can one girl be so hard to find? I used to see her everywhere, but these past few days, I haven’t seen her once.
Not outside her normal classes. Not at the library. Not even in the middle of campus, where everyone has to be at least once a day. She’s just nowhere.
I’ve been ignoring the nagging possibility that she’s purposefully avoiding me after what happened on Saturday. After she told me that she was a virgin. And not even just that, she’s never had a boyfriend either. Or kissed anyone. How does someone so beautiful not kiss anyone?
Sure, that’s not the only qualification that matters when it comes to kissing someone, but it helps. And it should have helped her out a lot. When you’re that beautiful, men should be lining up and down the sidewalk for you.
Actually, no. I hate the idea of that. I don’t want any other guy looking at her. That sounds possessive, but I don’t give a fuck. From the moment I laid eyes on Valentina Demarco, I knew I had found the girl I would spend the rest of my life falling for.
But that’s also the problem.
Not just falling for her. Falling for anyone.
Love and I don’t mix. If it did, I would have asked her out Freshman year when we met. Not saying she would have said yes back then, but I still would have tried. And I probably would have tried every day until she gave me a chance.
But I’m me. The one everyone calls a sex addict.
Except I’ve been around actual sex addicts when I tried to fix myself a few years ago. And those people can’t do anything without thinking about sex, and I’m not like that. I, on the other hand, can’t do anything without thinking about Valentina Demarco. And I’ll gladly admit to that addiction.
But I know if I gathered enough courage and asked her out now, she’d think I was asking her just to have sex with her. To take her virginity for a fucked up reason. But I won’t do that. I can’t do that.
But there’s this other voice in my head that keeps telling me that this is somehow my chance. My chance with her. My chance to fix myself. My chance to be someone better. Better for her.
I just have to find the girl first.
Just a glance is all I need. And a glance is what I get as I walk out of my classroom.
She hugs the wall to get out of everyone’s way as she heads in the opposite direction I should be going. I push through a few people and manage to see her sneak into a classroom, which is weird.
She doesn’t have any music classes. She hasn’t since Freshman year.
I push my way through the remaining students and reach the door she went through, immediately stopping in my tracks.
She walked into the same room where we had class together. How often does she come here?
I push the door open enough to hear music playing. The song sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on where I’ve heard it from.
It’s simple. Gentle. Something you’d play if you were playing to pass the time. It takes a few more notes for everything to come back to me.
She played this song Freshman year. The first time I ever heard her play. I honestly thought it would be the last time, too.
I lean against the doorframe, ready to stand here for as long as she is willing to play, but then the song changes. And this one takes me no time to register. Bed of Roses by Bon Jovi. The song I played Freshman year.
My body freezes in place as she continues to play. Way better than I ever could, also. If she had played this song Freshman year, everyone, including me, would have lost their mind over her.
A faint humming filters through the room, and I realize I’ve been walking towards her. Her eyes are closed while she hums the melody and plays along.
Never have I seen someone so immersed in a song before. Hell, I take classes to learn how to immerse yourself into your performance to make it seem more believable to your audience. She’s just doing it. Second nature, no practice. All her.
The song fades out, and she just sits there. Breathing heavily and staring at her hands like she can’t believe she just played that. And neither can I. So I start clapping.
Her head snaps up, and her eyes widen when she sees me. I love that she’s nervous, but she has no reason to be.
“I should have asked you to play for me back then,” I say calmly, though I want to ramble about how amazing she is. “You have a lot more power behind your performance.”
It takes her a moment to register what’s happening. That I’m in front of her after this weekend. She quickly grabs her bag and stands, keeping her head down as she tries to walk right past me.
Yeah, that’s not happening.
“Valentine.” She freezes, her eyes flying up to mine. “Come on. Let’s just talk for a minute.”
I get that she’s embarrassed, but she doesn’t need to be. It’s not like she let the information out to the entire campus. It was just me.
But maybe that’s the issue. It was me she told.
Not gonna lie. That really fucking hurts if that’s the truth.
She looks back at the ground and tries to keep walking past me, again. I grab her arms, holding her in place. “Oh no. You aren’t going anywhere.”
“Please don’t do this,” she whispers, nearly begging. Her eyes glance toward the doorway. “Please just let me leave so I don’t feel even more embarrassed.”
So it is because of me. She’s embarrassed that she told me.
I let her go.
She steps around me and heads for the door, but I can’t leave us here.
“We aren’t that different, you know.” I turn around just as she does.
She grips her bag tighter at her shoulder, processing my words. “What do you mean?” she asks, but she’s not disgusted like I half expected. She’s curious, and because of how inexperienced she is in terms of sex, I feel like she might be curious about a lot of other things, too.
I take a tentative step towards her. When she doesn’t move, I close the distance between us. “You and me,” I point between the two of us, “we’re different but very much the same.”
“And how’s that?”
I shrug. “I haven’t exactly been in a proper relationship either.”
Oh fuck. Did I really just tell her that?
Her head tilts slightly to the side, just enough to notice if you’re really looking at her. And I always am.
“You don’t seem like the type that wants to be in one,” she says slowly.
Of course, she would think that. Why would she think anything else when it comes to me? She’s probably heard all the rumors and knows exactly how many girls I’ve been with. The thought of that number alone makes me want to throw up.
Sometimes, though, in order to survive, you have to be the person everyone wants you to be. It just fucking sucks that being that person could possibly destroy your chance of ever being yourself.
“Maybe,” I finally say. My eyes lift back to hers, and the patience in her stare allows me to continue. “But it’d be nice to try. See what it’s like.”
“Okay.” She nods softly. “Then do that.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Really?” she asks skeptically. “And here I thought it was to eavesdrop on me.”
A smile pulls on my lips. “That was a bonus.”
She looks down at her feet, nerves coming back to her. She played so effortlessly Freshman year, why would she be shy about me hearing her now? Talent like hers should be everywhere. God, and if she could sing? The world would never let her go.
“When did you even learn that song?” I have to ask.
I wonder how many times she practiced that song. And did she think of me every time she did.
She shrugs. “I didn’t.” Her eyes connect with mine as she says the last thing I expected her to. “I just remembered you playing it, so I started playing it.”
My eyes widen. There’s no fucking way. “And you played it that perfectly?”
People playing songs they’ve only heard once before is not unheard of.
But those people are prodigies who attend big, fancy music schools to learn from the best and then go on to become the best. A girl who isn’t a music major and heard a song three years ago and plays it perfectly her first time through? That’s unheard of.
Her eyes glance around the room. Anywhere but at me.
So she doesn’t like being the center of attention. Sucks for her, she’s always been the center of mine.
“What are you here for then?” She looks at me shyly. Honestly, I forgot about why I wanted to talk to her. Now all I want to do is listen to her play. But that can come later.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Well, you see, Valentine, after your truth bomb on Saturday, I got an idea.”
“To humiliate me more?” she says sardonically. And fuck if that didn’t hurt more than when she was embarrassed about telling me her secret.
I glare at her. “Do you really think I’d do that to you?” My words are a bit harsher than I want them to be. But she can’t honestly think that just because I’m a guy who has sex a lot, that I’m also a shitty person. At least, I hope she doesn’t think that.
She shrinks back a little from my tone. “I don’t know you, Huxley.”
Tension bunches my shoulders, but I push through it with a smile. “Which adds to my idea.”
“Fine,” she sighs. “What’s your idea?”
“A deal. Between you and me.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “A deal?” But just ask quickly, her head tilts to the side. “And what exactly does this deal entail?”
There’s my curious girl.
“You and I will date each other,” I tell her. “You’ll get your first boyfriend, your first kiss, your first time. And I’ll get to see what all this relationship talk is about.”
I’ll be honest, this may be a terrible idea. She could think I’m insane for coming up with something like this. Or worse, this could take what little of a relationship we have and completely fuck it up. I don’t believe in god, but if I did, I’d pray that isn’t the case.
She slowly blinks out of her stupor. “Why do you want that?”
Not what I was expecting, but I’ll definitely take that answer over her thinking I’m insane.
I shove my hands into my pockets, trying to seem relaxed when my insides are screaming. “I mean, relationships can’t be that bad.” Right?
“No. I mean, why do you want that with me?”