Suddenly, I wanted to talk to Teresa. I wanted to tell her what was going on because I had a feeling I really didn’t know what was going on. But it was late and Teresa was at the beach with Jase. I looked down at Roxy and bit my bottom lip. I didn’t know . . . oh hell, fuck it. “I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

Roxy blinked slowly and then took a step back. She raised a finger, walked over to the door and closed it, then turned to me. “Not a single boyfriend?”

I shook my head.

“Have you ever had a fuck buddy?”

I shook my head again.

She leaned against the door. “So I’m assuming that the cherry convo we had before hit close to home?”

“Uh. Yeah.” I sat on the edge of the desk, crossing my ankles. “Cherry is intact.”

“Wow,” she murmured.

I frowned. “What?”

“I don’t know. Virgin twenty-one-year-olds are kind of like Big Foot.”

My shoulders slumped. “Gee. Thanks.”

“You know what I mean.” She slid her glasses up to the top of her head. “You hear about Big Foot, but no one has really seen Big Foot in person. Same with twenty-one-year-old virgins.”

I was beginning to think sharing was a bad idea.

“Why?” she asked, and my brows rose. “Why no boyfriend?”

Cocking my head to the side, I stared at her. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “You can see with the glasses, right?”

She squinted, scrunching her nose. “Yeah, I can see. And you’re really pretty. And you’re nice. You have to be smart to be in a nursing program, so what’s the deal?”

“Pretty?” I murmured.

Then she blinked again as she pushed off the door, approaching me. “I get it. The scar on your face? It doesn’t distract from your prettiness. You have to know that. And I kind of wanted to say something earlier, but thought it would be way uncool to bring it up,” she went on. “But you look nice tonight. I can tell you’re not wearing a lot of makeup, and you looked great before, but you look awesome without it.”

Dermablend was no joke—a heavy makeup used for maximum coverage, and I always knew it was noticeable. I just thought I looked better with it.

“I’d kill to have your lips,” Roxy continued, drawing my attention to hers. They were nice lips. Bow-shaped lips. “And I’d murder someone to have your boobs. You cover them up, but I know they are there, and they look nice.”

“They’re not,” I blurted out before I stopped myself.

Confusion marked her face. “What do you mean? Do you have, like, the most awesome bra in the history of bras? If so, can you let me know where you got that?” She placed her hands over her small chest. “Because these babies could use some help.”

I smiled softly. “No. It’s not that. Sorry.”

“Damn.” She pouted. “Then what?”

I’d never talked to anyone about what I looked like in the buff and finding the right words was more than difficult. “The scar on my face is nothing compared to the rest of me. It’s pretty bad. For real.”