I jogged to keep up with her, the words first man inside me catching fire in my blood. My raging cock was so hard, it made it difficult to walk.
“Wait up, Callie. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’ll promise you those things if that’s what makes you happy.” It was useless. She was marching on ahead, her mind already made up. To her, I’d thrown a wrench in her fate and messed it all up.
When we reached the car, she hopped into the back seat like I was the chauffeur. Arms still crossed, she stared out the window, refusing to talk. I put the car in gear and pulled out onto the main street. Callie Langdon wanted to give her virginity to me, and in declaring that, had turned me into a walking time bomb.
When we were seventeen, my best friend Crosby moved to Italy for a year. My mom threw her a huge going-away party at the bowling alley, and I spiked the punch to make sure everyone had a good time. It was the first time Crosby had ever gotten drunk, and she came awfully close to kissing Weston the night before her departure.
At the airport, I hugged her goodbye, and my arms wouldn’t let go. My mom had to come pry my fingers off of Crosby so she could walk through security and leave me here all alone.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if Dean hadn’t left too. My older brother became a marine, and between training and first deployment, it’d been almost two years since we’d really seen him. Dean was nine years older, so it wasn’t like he’d be living at home anyway, but I felt so abandoned losing Crosby that I couldn’t help but cry until my eyes were sore and swollen. Dean was the buffer between my mom and dad. They’d fight around me but clean up their act as soon as my older brother walked into the room. After Dean left, I’d escape to the comfort of the Dashens’ home to avoid their constant battles. With both Crosby and Dean gone, I’d have no consoling arms to run to when something went wrong. Meanwhile, Crosby would be having the adventure of a lifetime while I rotted away in Hartford, crushing on the one boy I could never have. Asa Dashen, the asshole, who thought I was an immature baby with an insecurity complex.
My only saving grace was my candy striper job at the hospital. It was volunteer so I didn’t make any money, but I worked three days a week after school, and helping the nurses was really rewarding. Plus, I learned a ton of skills that I could apply to my future career. I wanted to become a nurse or a physical therapist and help people recover from serious injuries.
My grandmother was a nurse, and Mom said the genes were in my blood.
“Our own little Florence Nightingale. Gammy would have been so proud.”
“I got asked to do one day a week up at the U working in the PT clinical trials through their athletic department. You and Dad have to sign the paperwork, but please, Mom, can I go?” I desperately needed a focus to keep my mind off exactly how alone I felt.
My dad wasn’t thrilled about what he called child labor, but he didn’t understand this experience was my surefire ticket into the nursing program. No one else would have started as early as me, and I wouldn’t miss BeBe as much if my days were so full I wouldn’t have time to notice she was gone.
Even though I was a social creature, without BeBe by my side, my party animal skills seriously diminished. It was hard to walk into a classroom by myself, let alone an after-school club or party. Crosby lifted me up and made me feel brave, but without her, I became more introverted than I ever knew I could be.
Of course, at our family holiday ski vacation, I was still the first and only one to jump into the snowbank in my bikini after the sauna on a bet. I couldn’t lose my whole reputation as the Langdon badass. But now my bravery came in the form of helping out sometimes in the ER, passing out needles and gloves as fast as I could in critical situations, or acing my AP anatomy and physiology test with the highest score in the section.
Without BeBe, the excitement of my social life diminished to a dull roar. I had acquaintances, not close friends, and plenty of friendly coworkers. I’d never had a boyfriend—not that I hadn’t been asked out. I had been, a ton. But I always held back because I was afraid guys would think I’d gone all the way or that I was willing to do sexual things since I was naturally outgoing. Truth be told, I’d never been kissed. Except for that one blip on my lifeline when Asa Dashen paid attention to me. And maybe whenever my hands crept toward my center when I was yearning, it was his lips I pictured crushing against mine, tasting and probing. His hands I imagined tangled in my hair, touching my breasts. The hardness between his legs was the only one I’d ever pictured touching. Other than that, my little black book was barren; there were no notches on my bedpost. I’d keep this mouth chaste until I found the man who was worthy of my kisses.