I can’t say no though.

I can’t reveal my inexperience. Maybe, in time, once we fall in love. But, for now, I need to stop being scared. Look what happened with Liam. I’ve learned from my mistake. You let them do the things they want and then they love you. Especially when you’re eighteen.

Can’t remember much else. Only that, because it hurt so much, I concentrated instead on the song that was playing through Danny’s MacBook.

It was “She Will Be Loved” by Maroon Five, ironically.

I was woken by the thudding thwack of a fire door closing as some student made their way to breakfast. I lay naked, next to Danny, feeling overwhelmed at the memories surging in, trying to fill in the blank spaces. I started to cry, and, not wanting to wake him, I stumbled into my Avril costume and tiptoed to find the bathroom to have a little cry in peace. The boys’ toilets were predictably gross. It burned as I peed. When I wiped myself, I found blood. I shook my head and wiped my tears away. I was being dramatic, as usual. It was just sex. And I’d lost my virginity to someone I really cared about. Not many people could boast that. Danny and I would get better in time. We were both drunk. He hadn’t known I was a virgin. He was such a good kisser. Sex would get better.

He was still zonked when I got back to his room, and I watched him sleep unashamedly. God, he was beautiful. Like a sexy porcelain doll. I couldn’t believe I got to see him like this. What a privilege, what a... Holy fuck, I’d bled onto his sheets.

Danny woke to the vibrations of me frantically dabbing at his bed with a damp tissue.

“What’s going on?” he asked through a thick layer of sleep.

I stuffed the bloody tissue into my bra and lay over the wet patch. “Morning.”

“Morning.” He leaned over and kissed me on the lips, and momentarily everything was amazing again. He was kissing me, like last night was real. He groaned and stretched his arms over his head, still naked. His nakedness was still quite groundbreaking to me. I couldn’t quite cope with it yet. Maybe I needed to build up to it a bit more slowly over time, like exposure therapy? One bollock at a time, or something? “Christ my head hurts.”

“Mine too.” My vagina also hurt. Quite a lot. All rough and bruised and raw.

He pulled me into him and dozed off again, his breathing slowing to a snore. I tried to sleep, but my body was itching in anticipation. I passed half an hour just looking at him. Feeling surging through me as I examined his face. I reached out and touched his cheek to check he was real.