Hey, Darling.

Someone was touching me. My eyes fluttered open in shock. For a seventeen-year-old girl who’s never shared a bed with anyone besides her sister, waking up to someone stroking the small of your back is a big deal. A major deal.

Like, fucking flip out big deal.

It’s an even bigger out when you reach up to rub your eye and the sheet falls down. That’s when you realize that you’re naked.

That’s when things start getting really fun to deal with.

“Holy shit,” I wheezed as I shot up in the bed, clutching the sheet around my chest. Kennedy removed his arm from around my waist and looked at me nervously.

“Holy fucking shit, fuck me with barbed wire. Or make me bathe in battery acid and use a knife as wash cloth. Or have one of those little beetle things from Star Trek eat my brain, or have fungi grow out of me like an ant. Holy fucking fuckfuckfuck.”

I was blinking rapidly, sprouting off words that rhymed with “blunt” and “chuck.” I didn’t know what to think. I had a wicked headache starting in my left temple and there was this distinct ache between my legs that I did not want to even start thinking about.

I felt dirty. I felt slutty. I felt like a girl who had just slept with a boy that she almost broke up with because he tried to unbutton my shorts.

I felt like a hypocrite, quite frankly.

Kennedy was looking at me, his eyes half lidded and his hair sticking up in fifty-two different directions. He looked tired and nervous and scared. He looked like he was contemplating how hard I could slap him or if he was going to have his genitals by the time I walked out of the house this morning.

I’d be lying to say that I wasn’t contemplating the state of his genitalia, either.

“Oh, fuck,” I heard him mutter under his breath and he opened his mouth like he was going to say something. That brought on some type of recognition deep inside of me, and my eyes and heart were suddenly blazing.

“You weren’t drunk.” I blurted out, my voice rough and thick. Although I’d like to believe that he was, I knew that he wasn’t. I could tell. Even an inebriated me could tell, so that really said something.

Kennedy looked fucking terrified. I think he was going to start with the excuses, but the brutal expression on my face must have stopped him. “No, I wasn’t. Buzzed, maybe, but not drunk.”

I pulled the sheet around me and moved to stand up from the bed. I didn’t know how I felt about this. I was angry but then I was glad and then I just wanted to hide underneath a rock and hide. This was not part of my agenda for the summer.

“You…” I trailed off, trying to comprehend what exactly was going on. “You took advantage of me?” I questioned, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Kennedy had been a jerk. Kennedy had been a dickface and a douche, but I would have never imagined him to have done something like this. This wasn’t the Kennedy I was used to knowing.

“Molly,” Kennedy stood up, before immediately pulling on his boxers. “I’m sorry - I’m going to say that right now. I don’t know what else to say, besides that at the time it felt right.”

“Right?” I questioned, looking at him in disbelief. “I thought you knew how much my virginity meant to me.”

Kennedy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I did. I do. And I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“That’s it?” I asked. “That’s all you’ve got for me? ‘I’m sorry.’?”

Kennedy took a step towards me while I took a step back. I didn’t want him to touch me.

He looked distressed. “Molly, baby…” he trailed off. “I know that you’re upset, and you regret it, but I don’t. Or, well, I regret that it happened the way it did, and I wish that you were sober and remember it, but it was something that I’ve wanted to happen for a really long time, and not just because I’m full of hormones. I - I I think that I might - might actually, lo-,”

“Don’t say it,” I warned him, shaking my head softly. I didn’t have enough energy to scream it like I wanted to. “You can’t say it now. You’ve fucked up everything, so you can’t say it.”

Kennedy walked towards me. I was pressed against the wall, so there was no where for me to go. “I love you.” He ignored me. “I love you, Molly Epps, and fuck, I know I messed up, but I’ve only known you for less than two months. I know that has to mean something.”

I shook my head. “It means that you’re irrational and have no control for your feelings. Or it means you’re lying.”

I didn’t believe me.

Kennedy didn’t either. “I’m not lying. I know what I feel. I love you. I want you. All of you. I want to hug you and hold you and buy you stuff. I want to wake up at five in the morning to watch the sunset and call you in the middle of the night just because I want to hear your voice.”

Why couldn’t he have said that earlier? Why now?

“Why now?’ I echoed my thoughts, clutching onto the sheet tighter as his arms reached out. He wrapped his arms around my waist. I didn’t struggle, nor did I hug back.

“I-” he stuttered, and then stopped. “I was too chicken shit to admit it till now.”

I sighed, and then reached up with my free hand and wiped at my eyes. I could feel the tears, and I knew when they dropped because Kennedy’s entire face fell.

“Shh,” he cooed. “Babygirl, don’t cry. Hit me, scream at me, but don’t cry. It kills me to see you cry.”

I shook softly in front of him, reaching up to cover my face with my hand. It was hitting me. I was no longer a virgin. I lost my virginity to a boy who couldn’t admit that he loved me. A boy whom I thought I might love. Except now I’m not so sure. Now I don’t know what to do.

A part of me wanted to forgive him, you know. I wanted to tell him it was okay (even though it wasn’t) and kiss him with everyone I had. A part of me wanted to live out my fairytale.

I had morals, though, and those morals couldn’t let me do that. Kennedy had fucked up for the last time.

“If you love me…” My voice was shaking, cracking, and I remember thinking that I felt like I was in a movie or a book. Life was just a badly written movie or book. Things happened to quickly, with emotions rushing at you causing you to make rash decisions.

This was another rash decision. This time, my head won. My heart protested.

“You’ll let me go.” Cliché.

Kennedy looked like he was going to crumble, disintegrate in front of my eyes. “If you love me you’ll stay.” Kennedy countered quickly, but I just shook my head.

“If you love me,” I repeated. “You’ll let me do what I think will make me happy.”

He just looked at me. He looked like he was going to cry. His eyes were shining.

Fifteen minutes later, I walked downstairs and Mia took me hope.

Then I started to pack.