Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Mary Kate starts to laugh, then stops. “But does anal count for the bet?” she whispers. “I mean, I thought it was only pussy sex that counts.”
The group goes quiet again, the full gravity of the contest’s bylaws looming over the table like a Greek chorus.
Kayleigh snorts. “Are we going by Catholic school rules or actual human rules here?”
Stella, ever the rule stickler: “I mean, the whole point was to lose your virginity. Technically…”
Mary Kate: “Technically, your hymen’s still intact.”
Kayleigh: “But her butt isn’t!”
I cough, trying to look nonchalant. “Trust me, it’s not.”
Stella: “So you’re still a technical virgin, then?”
I reach for my coffee, swallow, and shrug. “I guess? But I’m definitely a winner in the ‘go big or go home’ category.”
Kayleigh: “Did it hurt?”
I think about it for a second, searching for the right word. “It was intense. Like, at first it hurt and it felt really strange, and then it was just crazy. I kind of liked the pain. It felt so forbidden.”
Mary Kate: “Did you use lube or something?”
I stifle a laugh. “He used spit. And he fingered me too in my butthole, so he made sure I was stretched out. Well, as stretched out as a man’s fingers can make you.”
Kayleigh gasps. “That’s so crazy.”
Stella moans: “I can’t believe you got your anal cherry popped before your regular cherry.”
I grin. “Honestly? Me neither. I always thought girls who adore anal were, like, a porn myth. But it happened. And I am here to tell you: it’s definitely worth it.”
Kayleigh giggles mischievously. “Who are you and what have you done with our sweet Andie?”
I take a bow, as much as you can while sitting. “Guess I leveled up.”
Mary Kate, suddenly solemn: “So since you still have your hymen, we’re still on, right? We agree that this doesn’t count for the contest? You’re still going to try for the real thing, right? Like, the original plan?”
I look at her, at all of them—these girls who have cheered and cajoled and sometimes tormented me, but have never once let me off easy. “Okay fine, the anal won’t count,” I say, and I mean it. “I still want to win. I just want it to be epic, you know?”
Kayleigh smirks: “I give it two weeks before you find a new man.”
Stella giggles, and even Mary Kate smiles. The mood is light again, the contest alive and well.
I tuck my phone back into my pocket, and for the first time since last night, my hands stop shaking. The ache in my ass is a reminder—proof, in its way. I don’t know if I’ll ever see my mystery man again, but the memory will keep me warm for a long time.
The bell over the cafeteria door rings, and through the window, I spot Jake Namors, king of the campus, sauntering by with his buddies. He looks straight at our table, gives a little nod, then turns away. He’s godawful handsome with that chestnut hair and flashing blue eyes, dressed in a green varsity jacket that highlights his broad shoulders. He looms above his friends, his strides easy and confident.
I watch him, curious. For a second, I wonder what it would be like with Jake—if the rumors are true, then he’s a god in bed.
But for now, I just sip my coffee, basking in the new, raw, wicked version of myself, and wait for the next chance to rewrite the rules.
Our post-brunch exodus is a slow-motion stampede, each of us clutching bags, books, and coffee cups, buzzing from the fallout of my “anal adventure.” Kayleigh can’t stop humming the word “buttslut” under her breath, while Stella keeps asking for more details about the mystery man’s hands—was he rough, or gentle, or both? Mary Kate, for her part, is already texting updates to her mysterious “date,” whom she’s hoping to win the contest with.
We’re halfway to the double doors when someone shouts across the cafeteria: “Andie!”
The syllables ricochet off the cinderblock walls, bounce around inside my skull. I know that voice: it’s Jake Namors, Big Man on Campus, heartthrob, hockey god, and most-wanted MVP by the ladies on campus.
He’s holding court at the corner table, surrounded by half the starting lineup. Jake’s got a jawline you could sharpen knives on, hair that’s always artfully messy, and the kind of shoulders that look like a brick. His smile, aimed directly at me, is all slow confidence and practiced mischief.
Kayleigh’s elbow is in my ribs immediately. “Go, bitch,” she hisses, not even subtle.
I want to say no. I want to say I’m immune, that last night’s encounter rewired my DNA and made me impervious to these dumb college games, but the truth is, I don’t feel like I have a choice. Everyone will think I’m strange if I don’t respond to Jake Namors. As a result, my feet are already moving. I cross the floor, aware of every eye that follows—Jake’s friends, the bored cafeteria staff, half the girls from my chem class.