Читать книгу Virgin - Radhika Sanghani - Страница 13

SHE STILL HADN’T CALLED. It was Wednesday and I didn’t know whether to stay in my Camden room or go back home to Guildford. Lara would be there, too—or maybe she had gone back to Oxford to be as far away from me as possible. We’d never had a falling-out before.

In the cold light of day, a bit of the anger had come back. The things she had said were so hurtful, and so … true. She had blurted them out without caring how I felt, and I’d been just as bad. I couldn’t face her and I couldn’t even begin to start processing the thought of an apology. I had spent all of Tuesday crying, eating my feelings and distracting myself with movies. Now I had an ice cream hangover and couldn’t spend another second in my own company.

The only option was to pack up my stuff and head home in defeat for the Easter holidays, but I couldn’t bear the thought of sitting around in Guildford with nothing to do. The only reason I normally went home was to spend evenings with Lara, watching films and lounging in the park. I couldn’t face going back yet. At least if I stayed in London, I would be surrounded by people. I needed a distraction, to spend time with someone different so I wouldn’t have to think about Lara.

Suddenly I remembered Emma. If she was still around, maybe we could have our promised drinks. Before I could change my mind, I reached for my phone and sent her a text asking if she was free. I hadn’t even had a chance to put my phone down when it buzzed with a reply.

Yes! So glad you texted. I say we get a late pub lunch and start drinking immediately afterwards. Girly cocktails?

Perfect. Where shall we meet?

See you at The Rocket at 3pm?

Done!! x

Feeling proud of myself for taking the initiative and doing something with my day, I showered quickly and decided to walk the thirty minutes to the pub to work off some of yesterday’s calories. I’d forced myself into my favourite black skinny jeans and even though it had taken me half an episode of Friends to do them up, they were finally covering my cellulite and inspiring me to walk briskly. I flicked around on my iPod until I found my Fuck You, World playlist. It was a relic of my teen angst days but I needed to reembrace life. And dancing to The Killers was the easiest way to do it.

Forty-five minutes later I arrived at the pub and collapsed, exhausted, into a booth. I had just ordered tap water when Emma walked in. She gave me a hug, enveloping me in flowery perfume, long feathery earrings and her jaggedly-cut blond hair. Thank God I had worn my favourite jeans and black suede boots with gold studs, because otherwise I would have been seriously underdressed. Emma was wearing a chiffon cream shirt over a black bra, paired with jeans, heeled boots and a furry leopard-print coat.

‘So, have you ordered yet?’ she asked. ‘I’m craving a full fish, chips and mushy peas with a proper sticky toffee pudding.’

‘That sounds so good. Except I ate a whole tub of Ben & Jerry’s last night.’

She looked at me sympathetically. ‘Ouch. Who is the bastard?’

‘I wish it was a guy.’ I sighed. ‘Long story short, she is—or maybe was—my best friend from school, who just decided to tell me everything she’s secretly disliked about me for years, out of the blue, after having sex with a guy I fancied in my bathtub while I slept obliviously next door.’

‘Whoa, sounds like you’ve had a rough few days…. Who was the guy? Was he fit, because if he was, then surely the bathtub sex is excusable?’

‘I guess so, yes. I mean, neither of us knew him. We just saw him in a club, fancied him, and he chose her.’

‘And then went back to yours and your friend got it on with him in your bathtub? Classy girl,’ she said, shaking her head with an admiring smile. ‘Babe, you could blame her for this, but I think what’s happened here is you’ve made the classic mistake of having a best friend who gets all the guys. You need to go out there and get a new best friend—preferably an uglier one.’

I snorted with laughter but she grinned at me and carried on.

‘OK, maybe that is a bit drastic. But you know what? There are so many girls like this out there. Pretty girls who get all the guys without lifting a finger and then rub it in their friends’ faces. Bitches.’

I laughed. ‘OK, I feel like we’re not talking about my friend any more. Do you have direct experience of this, Emma Matthews?’

Emma rolled her eyes. ‘Do I? At school I was second to Alex, because she was blonder than me and had bigger boobs. That’s all the Portsmouth guys cared about, by the way—some cultural context for you. You’d do really well there,’ she added, making me blush as she looked down at the cleavage I’d tried to hide with a high-cut top. ‘But anyway, then I realised that all those years of rejection and being second choice had taught me loads. Ten years later, I am now oblivious to rejection and I can proposition a man without really caring what he says back.’

I looked at her with unadulterated awe. ‘So, you ask men out?’

‘I’ve been known to do so. And for the few who say no, the dozens who have said yes and given me some of the best nights of my life have made it worthwhile.’

‘I’m officially impressed,’ I said. ‘The closest I’ve ever come to asking someone out was when I asked a guy called James to take my virginity when I was seventeen and he said no.’

She burst out laughing. ‘Oh, wow, that kind of rejection is enough to put anyone off. Seventeen, huh? That’s kind of late to lose your virginity. We all lost ours before fifteen, but then half of the girls in my year at school got pregnant before A-Levels. So I guess we aren’t really a fair reflection of the greater world.’

They all lost their virginity at fifteen? Oh God, I was a circus freak. A cable TV channel was probably going to end up doing a documentary on me. The twenty-one-year-old virgin.

I forced a smile. ‘Ah, well, I don’t think anyone at my school has ever got pregnant before being respectably married to a doctor or lawyer, aside from Molly Hanson in 1984, who ran off with a teacher after he got her pregnant in sixth form. Since then, the school hasn’t allowed male teachers under the age of forty unless they’re gay. They’re scared the girls will run off with them.’

‘They have a point. I definitely would have run off with Mr Branson if he’d asked. It’s only because he was so good-looking that I was motivated enough to get an A in Physics. So anyway, when did you lose your virginity after the big rejection?’ she asked, drawing out the last three words with dramatic pausing.

I flushed red. I didn’t want to lie to Emma because she was so open with me. But I couldn’t tell her I was a virgin … especially since she clearly didn’t know anyone who was still a virgin post-GCSEs. But how would we ever have a proper friendship if she didn’t know the one defining detail about me?

I quickly blurted out the truth before I lost my courage. ‘Well, it never actually happened for me,’ I admitted. Her face screwed up in confusion as her mind started to process what I said. She was judging me, and oh my God, I was freaking out. I rushed on, ‘Well, until a few months later when I got drunk and that was that.’

She grinned. ‘Ah, the classic drunken first time. Happens to us all.’

I plastered a bright smile on my face and hated myself for being too weak to stick to the truth. ‘Yup! Though I can’t say I’ve had many repeats of it, so I’ll have to live vicariously through you.’

‘Ugh, I know. There is a major male drought going on these days. But is there anyone in the English course you fancy? Charlie, maybe?’ she asked with a knowing smile.

I wrinkled my face up in disgust. ‘God, no! I could never keep up with his filthy sense of humour.’

‘Yeah, I know, right! It’s like … what is he trying to cover up with it? I reckon all those stories are just there to hide the fact that he has got a little secret of his own—a very, very little one.’

‘Are you trying to tell me he has a tiny dick? How would you know that?’ I asked her in shock.

She laughed and tapped the side of her nose. ‘I have my sources. Let’s just say I overheard Marie saying something to Fiona.’

‘Marie and Charlie? You have got to be kidding me,’ I gasped.

‘Marie and everyone, more like. The girl is a serious player—and that means something, coming from me.’

We ordered our fish and chips and carried on gossiping well into the sticky toffee puddings and our second mojitos. I felt a bit guilty for lying to the most open person I’d ever met, but I figured the second I slept with someone, the lies would be true, and she would never need to know about the half lie.

‘Anyway,’ Emma said as she spooned the last bit of caramel sauce off her plate and threw her spoon down in triumph, ‘we got so distracted that I forgot to be more supportive about your fight with your friend. What actually happened?’

I groaned. ‘It’s too depressing to relive.’

‘Do it.’

I took a deep breath. ‘OK, but remember … you asked for this.’

‘Disclaimer accepted. Spill.’

‘So, we went out on Monday night to Mahiki. I was craving a man and she’s already seeing someone, so we went out to try to find me a guy. A couple of disgusting old men bought us drinks and we took full advantage. Then we both saw the perfect guy, but of course blond attractive Angus preferred blonde attractive Lara, so they hooked up. Meanwhile, I got distracted by an ugly little emo boy and snogged him, even though he was the only person not wearing a designer outfit.’

‘Whoa—first, what are you trying to say about blonds, Miss Kolstakis? Second, I can’t believe you were in Mahiki and you managed to find an emo.’ She laughed. ‘I admire your skills.’

I raised my eyebrows at her. ‘A skill? I feel like it’s more like a curse.’

‘I don’t know … I’d much rather be with someone a bit different than another typical Oxfordite.’

I paused and briefly wondered if I would have enjoyed being with Angus. He had been pretty rude when I stood on his face. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I give up on men. Especially because I then got very drunk and agreed to let Angus stay with Lara in my tiny en-suite bedroom. And when I woke up I stood on his face, realised that they were both NAKED and then … and then I decided to shower it all away and slipped on what I thought was hair removal cream. But as I was lying flat on my back in the bath, crying out in pain, I realised that I had slipped on Angus’ come.’

Emma spat out her drink and burst out laughing. I grumbled at her to stop enjoying my humiliation so much, but after my attempts failed, I grudgingly joined her and we laughed until we were both close to tears.

‘That … is just … so funny,’ she said, gasping for breath. ‘How do these things happen to you? Even the situation where you accidentally told the whole of UCL English Literature class that you loved being bummed even though you never have been.’

‘I didn’t exactly tell them I loved it….’

‘Yeah, sorry, the rumours going round are a bit different.’

I froze. ‘Please tell me you’re joking.’

‘Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. I think even Charlie has a newfound respect for you. The boys all fancy you now.’

‘Am I meant to be flattered that they now only fancy me because they think I’m a dirty sex maniac?’

‘Excuse me,’ said Emma as she plonked her glass back onto the table. ‘Don’t knock anal sex until you’ve tried it.’ She paused, and then lowered her tone. ‘Except, it can have slightly disastrous consequences.’

I stared at her, picturing her and an unknown man covered in poo. ‘What?’ I asked in alarm.

‘That girl Alex I was telling you about? The first time she did it, they were at the guy’s house and his dad walked in. The guy was so terrified he pulled out immediately, just as she clenched in panic, and … her rectum dislodged and came out with it. The dad had to drive them to hospital.’

I gulped, mentally vowing never to have anal sex.

‘That’s … that’s awful,’ I whispered, trying to erase the very vivid image from my mind.

She nodded slowly. ‘If it hadn’t happened to her, I never would have believed it. It sounds like one of those urban myths, but, unfortunately for Alex, it was true. Some might call it karma,’ she added with a grin.

I let out a shocked laugh.

‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I’m so glad we’re hanging out. You’re definitely the most normal person I’ve met in our course so far.’

‘Same here,’ I said, smiling at her warmly and realising how true it was. ‘Although, that’s really not saying much,’ I joked and she rolled her eyes at me. ‘Honestly, though, sometimes I feel kind of distant from the rest of them. They’re fun and everything, but I’m never sure how much I have in common with them,’ I admitted.

‘I know,’ she cried out. ‘Like, why do we always have to drink red wine and pretend we hate pop music? Sometimes I just want to embrace my inner mainstream self. In fact,’ she said as she raised her glass in the air, ‘here’s to not being cool and not giving a fuck.’

We clinked our glasses together laughing and she called the waiter to bring us more cocktails. He was young and cute, and I shot him my most flirtatious smile but he didn’t seem to notice. Emma, meanwhile, was beyond subtle smiles and eye contact. She flirted openly with him, and wrote her number on the bill when we paid two hours later. When we left, she winked at him and he grinned back at her.

‘I can’t believe you did that, Emma. You’re so brave,’ I lisped as we left the pub.

She laughed. ‘He was so cute I had no choice. My inner lust for him was so overpowering that I just fell prey to my desires. Here’s hoping he calls….’

‘Will you care if he doesn’t?’

‘God, no! He’s a waiter in a bar. There are hundreds of those all over London. Who cares if one of them doesn’t fancy me back? He might have a girlfriend already, or be gay—except I do have a pretty good gaydar—or he might just not like blondes.’

‘You’re my new idol, Emma,’ I said as I tripped over a jagged paving stone.

‘Oh-kaaay, little lady, that’s good to know. But I reckon we should get you home before you throw up all over your new idol.’

‘I’m not that drunk,’ I said, as she bundled me into a cab and told the cab driver an address that wasn’t mine. I laid my head on her furry leopard-print coat and closed my eyes.