Chapter 11

Grace watched as Jaime rolled off of her, like she’d just told him she had the plague. That little bit of information—I’m a virgin—had fallen out of her mouth, and now it sat in the middle of the room, like the greatest elephant, neither of them wanting to touch it. She grabbed her shirt and pants, pulling them on, not wanting to lie there half-naked.

She sat back down on the couch, covering her face with her hands. She’d been debating since forever about whether or not to tell him, mostly because she wanted him to know she had no idea what she was doing and didn’t want him to think she was some incompetent loser. But now he thought she was, in fact, an incompetent loser who no guy had wanted to sleep with. She stifled a groan. Was it her fate to screw 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 ey