everything up? Now Jaime would look at her like this freak—twenty-three years old and a virgin.
The word felt heavy on her tongue. Virgin virgin virgin. She hated it. She hated that she cared. She hated that he cared. Uncovering her eyes, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry or kick him in the kneecap.
Jaime was gazing at her, watching her, looking at her like he didn’t know what to do with her. She really groaned out loud this time.
“You know what, this was a bad idea,” she said. “I’m going home and going to dig a grave to throw myself into.” She didn’t even know what she was saying. She just had to get away from him, away from the way he was looking at her.
She knew, objectively, that twenty-three wasn’t that old, and not that old to be a virgin. But that didn’t stop the intense feeling of humiliation, stripped raw, showing Jaime her soft underbelly and then having him refuse to touch her, like some kind of leper. It was rather like being wrapped up in some weird, scaly skin and she wished she could rip it off, even if it left her bloody and sore.
Then again, she guessed she kind of did have a skin covering her, and she almost burst into hysterical laughter. I’m laughing about my hymen. I need a drink. She was to the front door when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, no, don’t leave. Not yet.” Jaime snaked an arm around her waist, letting her lean against him. “Are you upset?”
She bit the inside of her cheek. Now he felt sorry for her. She wanted to die. Pulling away from him, she crossed her arms over her chest, like she could protect herself that way.
“I’m not upset,” she said, in a voice that quivered.
He laughed, although it was more like a huff. She looked up, a flush climbing up her face.
“It’s not funny.” She stepped toward him, her fists clenching. “I’m also not the one acting like I told you I have herpes or something!”
He narrowed his dark eyes. “Is that how I’m acting?”
She could’ve gladly shoved him out the window. “You know what, I don’t have time for this. You think I’m some kind of freak for being a virgin, like it even matters, like it isn’t some social construct created to control women and their sexuality, like it makes a damn bit of difference about who I am as a person—”
Jaime stepped toward her, pressing a finger to her lips. He then drew her close, and although she was angry, she let him.
“I never said you were a freak,” he said quietly, “and although I agree with everything you just said, by the way, can I explain why I may have reacted the way I did?”
She uncrossed her arms, beginning to pluck at his t-shirt collar. It had started to fray. “I guess,” she mumbled.
“You’re not a freak. I don’t give two shits who you have or haven’t slept with, by the way. But realizing that I’d be your first? It’s a big responsibility.” He took a deep breath. “I’d hate to fuck it up, Graciela.”
She didn’t want to, but she melted a bit at his words. She laid her cheek against his shoulder, feeling his heart pound. “You wouldn’t screw it up,” she said, knowing it was true.
“Your confidence in me is flattering.”
“No, I know you wouldn’t. Because you’d care enough to make sure it was good. Or at least, not terrible.”
He laughed softly. “I’m not sure whether I should be flattered or insulted.”
“I only told you because I wanted to explain…” She stepped away from him, mostly because she couldn't think with him so close. “That you’d know why I’m not very good at this.” She began fiddling with her hair, beyond self-conscious. “I’m not very good with things I don’t know much about, you know?”
Grace wondered how anyone did this, especially with someone they didn’t know. Not for moral implications, but mostly because it was such a baring of one’s self. Literally, figuratively. Emotionally. She twisted her hair around her finger and let it go, pulling and twisting and making a mess of it.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she said finally, looking up at him. “It just ruined everything. Now you’re going to avoid me, aren’t you?” When Jaime didn’t respond, she had her answer. She sighed. “Don’t put me up on some pedestal, Jaime. Don’t. I’m a virgin, not some saint. You won’t go