Rule Number One: My Brother's Best Friend

The silence, already long, now seemed to be spiralling into eternity.

Oh God. What the hell had I done?

Drew looked up at me at last, the confusion in his brown eyes only serving to deepen my mortification. "This is a joke, right?"

For a split second, I toyed with the idea of agreeing with him. That of course I'd been kidding, only pulling his leg. That I'd just wanted to see the look on his face. But I hadn't. And now, even more humiliatingly, my bottom lip was starting to wobble. Shit, I was going to cry...

"You're not joking." His tone softened.

"No." My voice sounded equally small.

"But you're nearly twenty-five!"

"I know! Why d'you think I never told you before? Oh—" And uttering a groan, I buried my face in my hands. "Never mind. Forget I asked, okay? Just pretend I never said anything."

Like that was going to be possible. I could already feel Drew's gaze boring into the top of my head.

"Sam."

"Please?" I peered at him through my fingers, the wash of shame now making me clammy all over. "I've forgotten all sorts of things for you. Like that time you rode your scooter over old Mr Roberts' allotment and smashed his prize marrows. And that time you put bleach in your sister's shampoo. Not to mention the time you left the bath taps running until the kitchen ceiling collapsed."

"You've forgotten all those things?" He sounded amused.

"I never told anybody else. Drew, please!"

His eyes narrowed. "Is that what you're worried about? You think I'm going to tell everyone what you just told me?"

I wouldn't have blamed him if he had. I'd just fed him a line that could win Olympic Gold for gossip-worthiness.

"Samantha Bloom." He blew out a sigh. "For heaven's sake, is your opinion of me really as low as all that?"

No. Not at all. Because I wouldn't have asked him what I'd just asked him if it was, would I? But I didn't say it. Couldn't say it.

"Why?"

I swallowed. "Look, I don't have a low opinion of—"

"That's not what I meant."

Of course it wasn't. I knew Drew of old—and there was no way in hell he was going to let me off the hook. "Why what?" I muttered, playing for time.

I felt his strong hands circle my wrists, prising my fingers away from my heated face. "Youknow what." He leaned forward, holding my arms either side of my head, his grip infuriatingly secure. In seventeen years of play-fights, I'd been the victor a handful of times and only then, I suspected, because he thought he'd better let me win every now and again or I'd refuse to wrestle with him anymore. "Why are you—?" He stopped abruptly, shaking his head. "Jesus, I can't believe I'm asking this question."

"Then don't?" I suggested hopefully.

"Oh no, I'm going to ask. I have to ask." He held my gaze, his brown eyes locking on mine. "Why the fuck are you still a virgin?"

As I stared back, the unwitting aptness of his words sank home. "Well, here's the thing," I said, my lips twitching as his own smile began, illuminating the dimples at the corners of his mouth. "Quite simple really. In order to stop being a virgin, you have to fuck."

He nodded solemnly. "And why haven't you fucked?"

God bless him, but he was making this easier for me, the coarseness of the words stripping back my declaration of chastity to its crudest elements. "I don't know," I admitted, biting down on my lower lip. "Got close a couple of times. Fooled about a bit. But when it came to the nitty gritty, the getting your kit off bit..." I let my voice fade, aware my cheeks were on fire yet bizarrely feeling relief at confessing my darkest secret.

"You backed off? Or did they?"

They. I closed my eyes, experiencing a ridiculous surge of guilt. There'd been three guys in total, Carl, Tim and Joe. Carl had dumped me within minutes of me knocking him back. Subtle. Tim had been rather more patient but it hadn't stopped him attempting to inveigle his way into my knickers at every given opportunity. I dumped him eventually, claiming he was sex-obsessed.

Joe had been the most accommodating of them all. We managed to 'go steady', as my Gran would've put it, for six months, with me steadfastly refusing to let him remove any part of my clothing. But then one day, he'd bumped into his old flame Victoria while shopping for groceries in Tesco and by the evening, bumping had become humping. I couldn't really blame the chap. How long would I have made him wait?

"I did," I confessed at last.

There was another lengthy silence. So lengthy in fact that for a brief moment, I dared to hope this might be a dream, but aren't all Sagittarians known for their unfailing optimism? I opened my eyes again, just to check.

Drew was still there. "Why?"

That question again. "I don't know."

"Sure you don't know?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I muttered, scowling.

He pursed his lips in response and raised his eyebrows. He knew I knew what he meant.

"Drew!" I could pretend I didn't. "Just because I'm still a virgin at the damned-near geriatric age of twenty-four doesn't mean there's something wrong with me!"

"Hey, I wasn't saying there was, okay? Though you have to admit, it's not exactly..."

"Not exactly what?" I prompted when he stopped mid-sentence. "Normal?"

He looked suitably chagrined. "I wasn't going to say that."

"No, but it's what you thought, isn't it?" Why did I suddenly feel so angry? "And you'd be right, of course. It isn't fucking normal. But I don't know why, okay? I don't know why I've waited this long. I don't know why I've always backed out at the last moment. I just have, all right? And—oh God..." Feeling my lip begin to quiver again, I spun away to the window, my eyes filling with tears as I stared out at the darkened street.

The very same street where we'd played as children. I could almost see us out there still. My brother, Paul, two years older than me, his unruly brown curls sticking out in all directions as he bombed up and down on his bike. Drew's sister, Charlotte, sitting on the kerb playing Jacks, me perched at her side, watching as she scooped up the metal pins between bounces of the rubber ball. And there was Drew himself of course, blond hair shining in the sun as he cycled alongside Paul.

Why do you always picture summer days when you have flashbacks to childhood?

I felt a hand on my shoulder, the warmth of Drew's fingers oozing through my T-shirt. "Okay," he breathed, the sound of his voice next to my ear sending a fizz of electricity down my spine. "The way I see this, we have two options."

"We do?" Good grief, what the hell was going on? He'd been this close to me a thousand times before, maybe more. It'd never felt likethis.

"Yep." He sounded amused, matter-of-fact. "Option one. We pretend we never had this conversation. Pretend that when I asked you what you wanted for your birthday, you never said, 'Oh, I don't know. Maybe you could take my virginity'."

Bollocks. I could feel myself reddening all over again. I'd really said those words—exactly those words.In vino veritas, I thought, casting a bitter glance at the empty bottle of wine on the coffee table. "And option two?"

There was a pause, a pause just long enough for me to realise that once again, I'd forgotten to put my brain into gear before opening my mouth.

When Drew finally spoke, I could hear his barely-repressed laughter. "I think you know what option two is."