I take a deep breath and pour us both a lot of wine. Assuming we’re not going out to eat, we might as well have sex. Then, if it’s as bad as I suspect it might very well be, I’ll break up with him. We can still stay friends, because that’s what we really are anyway. Or, if the way he’s looking at me as I approach is any indication, he might break up with me. I can’t help but grin. He is going to break up with me.

Oh, where is Cher when I need her? I should have listened to her. She warned me this isn’t typical, in quotes, “Straight guy behavior.”

Still, he’s so sweet and smart, and not that he was ever buff, but at least he looked healthy last time I saw him. Now he looks like he might fall over if a gust of wind blows on him.

“Here.” I hand him the wine and completely invade his space because I saved myself for him, and I’m going to get drunk and get this albatross of my virginity off my neck.

“Thanks.” He grins, and my heart picks up. He does have a nice smile: straight, white teeth and full lips.

“To tonight,” I say brazenly and don’t wait for him. I just clink my glass with his and start chugging.

Brody watches, but must sense that I’m not backing down, so he also starts to drink. Thank God his dad has good taste in wine. This is a delicious Bordeaux. It’s like a thick mouthful of flavor. I think I taste oak, maybe chocolate or berries. All I know is it went down way too easy, my head already feels better, and Brody’s skin is starting to have some color.

“Shall we sit?” I smile and lick my sweet-tasting lips.

He nods. His eyes dip to my breasts, and I almost scream to the ceiling, Thank you, God.

I don’t. Instead, I take his hand, he grabs the bottle of wine as we pass the island, and we walk out into the main room that’s now pretty much dark.

Little glittering lights from outside spill in. Otherwise, we’re all alone in our own cocoon of dark red wine and us.

I set my glass down and reach to take the bottle from him. He quickly drinks the rest of his wine, then grabs me and shoves his tongue down my throat.

I almost gag, but I’m so happy he’s taking the initiative that I moan and pull back enough so our tongues are twisting together, rather than having his be like a swab that tests you for strep throat.