2. The Planning Phase

ELLIE

Now, before you say anything, hear me out.

I knew how crazy it sounds to even consider something like this. I mean who in their right mind would want to lose their virginity to the biggest asshole on campus? No matter how you look at it, it was bound to be a terrible situation.

But here's the thing:

BECK IS SO FUCKING HOT!

I knew I hate him with every piece of hair that still remained on my head, but I can't turn a blind eye to the stories I'd heard. I couldn't deny the fact that everyone knew he was amazing on bed. I'd heard it enough times that I could pretty much paint a perfect picture of what he was capable of in the bedroom. Everyone knew the 'Beck glow', which every girl seemed to have after sleeping with him. Maybe that was the reason Salma was considered the hottest girl on campus, because she was always in an on-again-off-again relationship with him. Even though they weren't exclusive, she'd made it very obvious that Beck was hers, and no one could have him for longer than she deemed fit.

I'd always turned blind and deaf whenever someone started talking about Beck's escapades around me. One girl (I think her name was Stacy Dumont) said after she hooked up with Beck, she couldn't walk properly for three whole days. Apparently he had this magical dick that could probably cure my cancer if I got lucky.

So maybe I was curious. Maybe I wanted to know what it would feel like to have his lips all over me, his fingers in my hair and his weight pressing down on me. Maybe I wanted to know what it would feel like to be turned inside out by the star quarterback of Westbridge. And maybe I wanted to know what it would feel like waking up beside him.

No! Absolutely not!

I couldn't get ahead of myself. This wasn't about wanting to know what it would feel like to be with someone like him. I just wanted to have sex, and I wanted it to be with someone who actually knew what he was doing, and not someone who would fumble with my bra and ask me for my permission before he flipped me over. I wanted one wild, steamy and freaky night, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Beck Ryder could give me that.

Besides, I wouldn't be here to face the consequences of my actions. By the time anyone found out I'd slept with him, I would be long gone. No one would be there to call me a slut. No one would lump me up with the rest of his 'conquests', and they wouldn't even think about it at all.

To be fair though, I don't look at all like the kind of girl Beck would go for. He's more likely to go for the hot blonde with a cleavage that’s just magnetic to everyone around, and the kind of 'fuck-me eyes' you'll only find on an OF model. Those are the kind of girls he is usually seen with, and I've always been among the people who talk shit about these girls and call them hoes/gold-diggers.

Oh, did I forget to mention that Beck is loaded?

Beck is an actual billionaire, which I still cannot wrap my head around because how on earth does someone that stupid and irresponsible have so much money? The rumors were that his dad (who had been a major business tycoon before he tragically passed away in a car accident a few years ago) had left him the entirety of his company, making him the richest guy in his twenties. And if his Ferrari was anything to go by, he absolutely loves being rich.

Overall, Beck Ryder is your standard grade asshole, with an ego the size of Texas and a body count that would give a nun a heart attack. He’s everything I despise in a guy, he’s rude, conceited, overly-social, uninteresting and just so fucking annoying that it’s a wonder I haven’t put a bullet in my head since I knew him.

But I couldn’t deny the fact that he’s a sex god, and I couldn’t think of any other man I would rather have take my virginity than him.

It wasn’t going to be easy though. It would mean having to find a way to convince him to sleep with a dying girl. It would mean having to surrender the one thing I’d treasured for so long, and hand it over to the biggest asshole I’d ever met in my entire life. And it would mean having to accept the fact that I was only going to be another score for him. I would only be another conquest, and another chapter in his book of sexual escapades.

But I could live with that.

Or rather, I could die with that. Because if you really think about it, who is really conquering who?

And so, the decision was made. I was going to find a way to convince Beck Ryder to sleep with me. That shouldn’t be too difficult, right?

Right?

For something so simple, it seemed like a monumental effort. Alta through the ride back home, I was completely stumped as I kept thinking about what I had to do. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out the right way to do this. Should I just walk up to him and tell him I needed him to sleep with me? Should I create a PowerPoint presentation and explain to him why the weird girl on campus who always seemed to despise him was actually interested in having sex? Wouldn’t he just laugh at me and tell me to fuck off?

But I wasn’t going to back down from this. I needed to feel something before I died. Anything. I needed to know what it meant to be alive, to experience what other people easily took for granted. It would be such a tragic thing if I dropped dead, and all anyone would say about me was that I was a good girl. Why should girls like Salma experience everything they wanted, while I had to make sod with scraps? It wasn’t fair, and I just needed to have this one thing that I could hold for the rest of my life (what little of it remained anyway).

The cab soon pulled over by the curb, and I looked up to find Aunt Carol’s window open upstairs. That was odd, since she usually came back from the convenience store around eight. Surely even the manager couldn’t just up and leave whenever they wanted.

I paused and stared down the street, where a moving truck was parked and Mrs Hendrick’s house was being emptied out. Ever since she passed away, her daughter had been meaning to clean out the house and put it on the market. Mangrove Street was a typical suburban street, but the houses here were highly sought after because it was close to everything. Whatever you needed was exactly five minutes away, and that was something Aunt Carol and every other house owner was highly proud of.

I made my way towards the front door, and the first thing that seemed odd to me when I walked in was the music blasting from upstairs. Aunt Carol always preferred soft classical music, so why on earth was she blasting Michael Jackson’s Beat It from her room?

I dropped my bag and headed upstairs, imagining that someone had broken into the house and decided to leave the speakers on in her bedroom. Just to be safe, I checked to make sure my room was still locked before I made my way over to her bedroom at the end of the hall, where the door was slightly ajar and I could hear voices coming from inside. I inched closer, trying to hear what they were saying. But when I finally figured out what they were saying, I wanted to bang my head against a wall:

“Fuck yeah! Who’s your daddy?” a man’s voice grunted.

“You are,” Aunt Carol’s breathless voice replied, and I swear I could hear the sound of her headboard banging against the wall as whoever it was ploughed into her. “Keep fucking me just like that.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he said. “Turn around, baby girl. I want to fuck you from behind.”

I fled down the hallway, covering my ear and shaking my head. Now I realized why she had the music on. It was to drown out all the noise they were making, so the neighbors wouldn’t have a stroke if they heard them.

I headed down to the kitchen to make a sandwich, and I focused intensely on my work, while reminding myself to get some new AirPods so I wouldn’t have to hear the faint grunts and screams that were coming from upstairs despite the music. Thankfully, just as I was finishing up with my sandwich, the music turned down, and I guessed they’d finished.

Or most likely he’d finished, and he was currently lying beside her and feeling like the most powerful man alive. I could already feel myself blushing at the thought, and I’d just grabbed my sandwich and some orange juice when I looked up to find Aunt Carol and Jason Faber (our next door neighbor) standing in the doorway, both of them looking mortified.

“Ellie!” Aunt Carol gasped, drawing her robe tighter around her. “What are you doing back so early?”

“I’m done with my classes,” I said, forcing myself not to point out the fact that she was also back when she wasn’t supposed to.

“Um, hi Ellie,” Jason said, looking sheepish and staring down at his feet.

“Hi Jason,” I said awkwardly, my gaze briefly shifting to his bare chest, with his toned muscles and a little bit of chest hair. He was no Beck Ryder, but you could see the appeal (if it were with anyone else but your aunt).

“Um, Jason was… he was just…” Aunt Carol stuttered, but I shook my head and turned away from them.

“I don’t need to know the details please,” I said, grabbing my phone. “You can do whatever you want, Aunt Carol.”

Her ears turned red as I walked past them, and I’d never felt so mortified in my life as I ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. I just needed to get away from them, and have some sense of normalcy again.

I locked myself in my room with my sandwich, and as I sat by my desk, I wondered if this wasn’t the universe sending me a sign. I imagined a man in a white suit holding up a sign from the universe, with a single sentence written boldly on the white sign:

EVERYONE ELSE IS HAVING SEX EXCEPT YOU!!!

If even Aunt Carol was getting down and dirty, then why should I feel guilty about wanting to sleep with Beck Ryder?

I opened up my laptop, and I created a new word document. For the next few weeks, this would be my guideline on how to get in bed with Beck. It wasn’t going to be easy, but I was determined to see it through before I kicked the bucket. And so, “How To Get A Guy To Sleep With You In One Month” was created. And tomorrow, I would start with step one:

1. Get to know everything you can about him.

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