“Mr Social,” I utter under my breath.

Grayson chuckles. “One of us needs to be. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, I’m fine, but thanks.”

“How about you, Anaya?” he asks, earning a scowl from Paul, who is yet to offer her one.

My roommate sighs dramatically. “No, but thank you for asking, Grayson.” She scowls at Paul, who in return shoots Grayson a look that clearly says ‘thanks for making me look bad’. Grayson, looking amused, ignores Paul and looks down at me.

“Dance with me?” he asks.

“I’d love to,” I reply. He reaches his hand out, and when I take it, our fingers intertwine. We walk near the DJ stand, where others are dancing. A Jason Derulo song plays as we start to move to the music. I grind on him a little, seeing the lust in his eyes, but then tone it down. If only he knew the moves I could do, the many ways I’m capable of seductively moving my body.

“Fuck, you’re sexy,” he whispers into my ear, pushing my hair back and to the side. I’m glad he thinks so. The song ends, and it’s then that I notice Dylan standing there, arms crossed, her eyes on me. And she doesn’t look happy. Instantly suspicious, I remind myself to ask Grayson what the deal is with her. We spend the rest of the night enjoying each other’s company. When I get home, I realise something. I need to tell Grayson the truth. If someone else tells him, I could lose him forever. I’d hate to lose the way he looks at me. The way his eyes go soft and gentle, as if I’m something precious to him. Something to be protected, nurtured.

I hope he never stops looking at me like that.

I’m reading a history textbook, when suddenly it’s gently pulled out of my hands. I look up into Grayson’s unreadable face. “What’s wrong?” I ask. He slept over last night after the party. He went home in the morning, and then returned in the evening to have dinner with me.

He bites his lip, studying me. His dark eyes are hooded, and I instantly feel a tug in my lower belly. I absently run my finger along my collarbone, tilting my head as I stare up at him. I know what he wants. Grayson and I haven’t done anything more than kiss. He’s on the edge, but I know that if I tell him I’m not ready, he won’t push me. Here he is, standing in front of me, waiting for me to make the first move. Waiting for my permission, for me to let him know that I want this as much as he does. And boy do I. Truth be told, I’ve been keeping my distance from him because of my secret. Because of what I haven’t told him about me. I can’t deny myself any longer though. I stand up and close the space between us, placing both of my palms on his warm chest.

“Are you sure?” he rasps, licking his lips.

I lift up his t-shirt, feeling his taut abdomen with my fingers. “I’m sure.”

“Thank fuck,” he growls, leaning down and kissing me deeply. I moan into his mouth as he tastes my tongue, and kisses me in a way that has me so turned on, I want more. I need more. I’m panting when he pulls away to remove his t-shirt, throwing it to the ground. His body is perfectly muscled. Smooth, tanned skin covers an impressive chest and sculptured abs. I didn’t think a body like this existed in real life.

“Why wear a shirt at all?” I ask breathlessly. I’m going to lick every inch of that body tonight, that’s for damn sure.

Grayson’s lips twitch, his eyes still trained on me. He toes off his shoes, and then undoes the button on his jeans. I hold my breath as he pulls them down, and he’s left standing before me in all his naked glory. He was going commando.

“Breathe, Paris,” he says softly, and I instantly suck in a breath of air. His eyes roam to my breasts, which are straining against my white cotton singlet. I pull it off, my shorts following, leaving me in just a black bra and matching panties. He steps to me, kissing me on the lips and then on the spot where my shoulder meets my neck.

“You’re amazing,” he says into my ear, making me gasp as he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around him, my breasts in his face as he leans me back onto the bed. Pulling down the cups of my bra, he takes my nipple into his mouth, drawing it in and sucking gently. My head throws back onto the pillow, my fingers pulling gently on the ends of his hair, wanting more, wanting everything he can give. He kisses down my stomach, and then pulls down my panties as he nibbles on my hipbone. Without warning, his mouth is on me, licking, tasting. My thighs soon tremble, on the verge of release. When he sucks on my clit, my back arches as intense pleasure takes over.

“Fuck,” I curse, panting. I put my wrist over my eyes, catching my breath. I feel weak and blissful at the same time. I sit up and look at Grayson, who is kneeling on the bed, watching me. A small smile tugs at his lips as he takes me in, his eyes full of satisfaction. “Someone looks smug,” I say, grinning.

“Someone isn’t done with you… yet,” he says, crawling up over me. “Not even close.”

I smile. “I wouldn’t expect any less.”

He grins at me wolfishly.

“Condom?” I ask.

His eyes widen, and he nods, leaning down to pull one out of his wallet. Looks like someone was hopeful.

“I’d almost forgotten,” he says. “I’ve never been with anyone without a condom before.”

“Okay,” I mumble, swallowing nervously.

He opens the packet and slides the condom on his length, and then touches me intimately with his finger. I’m dripping wet.

“Hmmmm,” he groans, leaning over me and sliding into me, kissing my lips at the same time. I wince at the pain as he enters me, not as bad as I had expected but still enough to hurt.

He suddenly stills. “You’re a virgin?” he whispers, looking confused. His voice sounds like he’s in physical pain, and his eyes widen as he pulls back, looking down on me with an expression I can only explain as shock. He moves away from me.

I swallow, reaching for the covers to hide my body. “Is that a problem?” I ask in a small voice. He runs his hand through his hair, grabs his clothes, and gets dressed in silence.

And then he walks out without looking back.

I don’t sit in my usual lunch spot under the tree. I skip my next class and go home for lunch instead. Grayson has been calling and texting me nonstop since the ‘incident’, as I like to call it, but I don’t want to talk to him. It’s been two days. I have no idea why he acted like that, walking out without a word. I guess I didn’t really know him at all. I avoided his pleading gaze in class today, and even when he sat next to me, I ignored his presence as best as I could. I was the first person out of that class, walking as fast as my legs could take me. And this is why you don’t start something with someone you have to see all the time. It’s awkward, and frankly it hurts to look at him.

I’m unlocking my door when I hear him.

“Paris...” he says, sounding unsure and a little hesitant.

I don’t turn around. “What?”

“Can we talk?” he asks. “Please?”

“What could we possibly have to talk about? Your apparent disgust for virgins?” I say dryly. I put my key back in my purse and open the front door. I close it behind me, not feeling guilty in the least, but he puts his foot inside before the door can close. I sigh, and finally turn around to face him. He looks tired; his hair is messy as though he’s been running his fingers through it over and over again.

“I’m sorry about what happened the other night,” he says, puffing out a breath. “It’s just that…” He stops, and I raise my eyebrow, waiting. I’m actually interested in what he has to say, in whatever reasoning he’s come up with. I want to know what’s going on in that head of his. He looks like he’s going to say something, but then he shakes his head, as if to clear it. “I had no idea you were a virgin.”

“So you decided to ditch me and run?”