I laughed then, the sound echoing. “You already do.”
“I do?” The question had a serious tone to it.
“God, you made me cry. I’m not telling you that to make you feel bad, but I haven’t cried in two years.”
“Why not?”
“Because there weren’t any tears left.”
Shit. I’d said a lot, perhaps too much. When he didn’t say anything, I said his name to fill the void. “You need to tell me something about yourself now. It’s only fair.”
“All right. Let me think.” He was quiet for a few seconds, and I heard the crackle of the line. “My first time, I was fourteen.”
I couldn’t imagine him as a scrawny, gangly kid.
“She was older, sixteen. Amanda Carter. I was too nervous, too worked up to put the condom on, so she helped me. I, well—” I could hear the chagrin in his voice. “—let’s just say I didn’t last.”
“You didn’t—”
“Three times. I pumped into her three times, and I came. I think it was all of twelve seconds.”
I put my hand over my face, felt my smile.
“I’m afraid, princess, that when I finally sink into you, I won’t even last that long.”
My mouth fell open. “You mean you have a problem?”
He chuckled. “No, it means you have me so hot I’m probably going to make a fool of myself.”
I had absolutely no idea what to say to that.
“What about you?” he asked.
“Me?”
“Your first time.”
I was still stuck on his confident statement that we were going to have sex. “Oh, um, my brother’s friend.”
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen.”
I thought I heard him swear, but it was barely a whisper. “How old was he?”
“Eighteen.”
“Were you dating or going out or whatever they called it in your prep school world?”
“Oh, um. No. Cam—my brother—and his friend were watching movies, and they came into the kitchen where I was studying. They invited me to join them, so I did. Then halfway through the movie, Cam told me to go with Brad for a little fun.”
“Go where?” Reed’s voice was darker, almost black.
“To my brother’s room. It wasn’t too bad. I heard it hurts for every girl the first time. He was… nice. I heard he died a few years later. Car accident.”
I heard a thud, perhaps a door closing. “Princess, that’s um, I think I need to have a little talk with your brother.”
I turned to the wall, leaned my forehead against it. Picked at a flake in the cream paint. “You can’t. He’s in prison.” Realizing I said too much, I backtracked. “You’re not interested in all that. Look, I should probably get back to the meeting.”