I’ve lived off some pretty horrible crap when I had to. That’s probably why I enjoy cooking so much now. After years having to feed myself with whatever I could find in the back of the cabinets because my pathetic excuse for a parent hadn’t been shopping in weeks, the freedom to make myself a delicious meal with fresh ingredients is a luxury.

I shake off the harsh memories of my childhood as I find some spaghetti noodles and marinara sauce.

“Ahhh! Perfect,” I cheer as I turn to her with a wide grin. She’s sitting on a bar stool on the other side of the kitchen but rewards me with a shy smile. We’re quiet as I wait for the water to boil. I ask the question that’s been driving me nuts since we met.

“So, you have to tell me. Why me?”

“Why you what?”

“You know what. Why did you ask me to pop your cherry?”

She cringes at my words. We’ll have to work on that. I love talking dirty.

“That’s not—”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m the ski instructor. Whatever. Why did you choose me?”

She’s quiet for a while, as if trying to decide what or how much to tell me.

“Have you heard of the website scoreyourscores.com?” she asks. I shake my head. “It’s a website for people to rate the experiences they’ve had around campus.” She watches me to see if I get it. I know the kind of thing she’s talking about. People have been rating their fucks as long as they’ve been fucking.

“You mean girls rate the guys they’ve fucked?”

“Yes.” Her voice is firm and she doesn’t cringe this time, but her shoulders are slumped and she’s wringing her hands.

“Including me?”

It’s a rhetorical question. Obviously I’m on it or I wouldn’t be sitting in front of her now.

“Yes,” she answers quietly. She won’t look at me and she’s tracing the grout lines in the tile counter. She’s clamming up, so I try to lighten the mood.

“Guess I got some good reviews then? Five stars. Two enthusiastic thumbs-up. Best I’ve ever had,” I say in my best chick voice as I dump spaghetti noodles into the boiling water.

“There were no complaints in that department.” Her response makes me curious.

“But there were in other departments?” I push her. I haven’t slept with half the campus, but I get around. I’ve never left a woman unsatisfied that I know of. They all got a great night of no-strings-attached fun.

“I can pull up the site…” She turns around, gesturing to a computer desk that takes up a decent chunk of her living room. It’s got three screens, some massive speakers, keyboard, mouse, joystick, a headset and a bunch of other gadgets and gizmos. Seriously, who needs three screens? I have a feeling she doesn’t get out much.

“Nah, just tell me what they said.” If she’s struggling to say the words, she’s going to have a hell of a time when we get to actions. And I definitely want to see this girl in action.