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Chapter Twelve

Calum moved away from the door to flop down on his messy, unmade bed, half of the deep blue comforter resting on the floor. He folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. And he started whistling.

That son of a bitch.

I stood in the middle of his hard wood floor, shivering like a skimpy Chihuahua in my flimsy tank top and shorts, glaring at him with all the malice I could muster. I really should go out there and take my cardigan back from Britt. And while I'm out there, I should whack Avery over her stupid head with the Xbox seventeen hundred times.

Why am I even doing this? What is the point? To humiliate me? Because trust me, my humiliation level reached unimaginable heights when I had to tell everybody that I wasn't a virgin.

I cringed and squeezed my eyes shut. That was truly awful. I hated to think about how I lost it, at a party, half drunk with David Harris's body crushing the air out of my lungs. He was a senior, like the senior, and I was a freshman, awkward and insecure. I had given it away so easily. He told me I was sexy, and I, being incredibly naïve, considered that the ticket to the gateway that was my pants.

He wasn't a total asshole about it. I mean, he made sure I was okay, that it didn't hurt too badly (which it did. it hurt like a motherfucking bitch) and he even tried to talk to me after the party, like at school, but I was too mortified. I only told my friends. I didn't even tell my mom.

She probably thinks I'm still a virgin. 

I felt like such a whore afterwards. Thank God David didn't go around broadcasting that he had fucked a dumb little freshman. I think he was almost as embarrassed as I was.

Jesus. I had blocked freshman year out of my memory, and there goes Avery, bringing up inappropriate shit up in front of guys.

Like at the beach.

Jesus.

"Are you alright?"

My eyes popped open and I swiveled around to look at Calum, who had lifted his head up to look at me.

"Yeah, why?" I replied flatly, staring at a poster of Billy Joe Armstrong wearing more eyeliner than half of the girls in my school.

"You look... like, constipated." He half chuckled.

I just rolled my eyes. "How much time do we have left?"

"Like nine minutes. Impatient?"

"Very."

Calum sat up fully, pulling his knees up. He looked at me for a while, his head cocked to one side. I tried looking everywhere but him, finally landing on the black and white bass guitar propped up in the corner.

"Is that yours?" I asked.

"Yep," He said popping the 'p'.

I nodded. It was beautiful. I could almost see my reflection in it, that's how shiny and well-kept it was.

"Do you like actually play it, or do you just think it looks cool?" I said to him.

He gave me a look. "How pretentious do you think I am?"

I genuinely shrugged. I didn't know what to think of him. But knowing that he was musically inclined made him ten times hotter than he already was.

"So, you like Green Day?" I nodded to the poster of the raccoon eyed front man.

"Yeah, they're one of my favorites."

"Same. What's your favorite song?"

Calum squinted. "Probably 'Jesus of Suburbia.'"