ARIA’S POV
My phone buzzes the second Mrs. Henderson walks out of chemistry class. I already know who it is before I even look.
“Is tonight still on?” Miles’ text reads.
My stomach does this weird flip thing. Tonight is the night I’ve been thinking about for weeks now, ever since Miles and I started talking about… well, about finally doing it.
I stare at the message for way too long. My fingers hover over the keyboard. Part of me wants to chicken out, but another part—the part that’s tired of being the only virgin left in our friend group—types back: “You’re really gonna make me do this? Can we keep the lights off?”
I hit send before I can overthink it.
The three dots appear, then disappear. Then appear again. Then nothing.
Great. Now he probably thinks I’m a total prude.
“Ari!” Camile’s voice cuts through my spiral of panic. She’s standing in the doorway, bouncing on her toes like she always does when she’s excited about something. “Come on, we need to talk.”
I stuff my phone in my bag and follow her out into the hallway. The usual chaos of students switching classes swirls around us, but Camile grabs my arm and pulls me toward the empty art room.
“So?” she says the moment we’re alone. “Tonight’s the night, right? You and Miles are finally gonna—”
“God, could you say it any louder?” I hiss, even though no one’s around to hear us.
“Sorry, sorry.” She lowers her voice but can’t hide her grin. “I’m just excited for you! This is huge, Ari. You’re gonna lose your V-card!”
My face burns. “Don’t call it that.”
“What? It’s not a bad thing. Everyone does it eventually.” She plops down on one of the paint-splattered stools. “Okay, so we need to make a plan. Have you thought about what you’re gonna wear?”
“I was just gonna wear my normal underwear—”
“No, no, no.” Camile shakes her head dramatically. “This is a special occasion. We’re getting you something sexy. Victoria’s Secret has this amazing sale right now, and I’ve been saving up my babysitting money. Consider it my gift to you.”
“Cam, you don’t have to—”
“I want to! Besides, what are best friends for?” She pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through what I assume is lingerie. “Ooh, look at this red lace set. Miles would die.”
The idea of Miles seeing me in red lace makes my stomach do that flip thing again. But this time it’s not entirely from nerves.
“And you need to shave,” Camile continues, not looking up from her phone. “Everything. Like, everything everything. Trust me on this.”
“Everything?” My voice comes out as a squeak.
“Ari, honey, no guy wants to deal with a jungle down there.”
I want to argue that maybe some guys don’t care, but what do I know? I’ve never done this before. Camile has been with three different guys already. She’s basically an expert compared to me.
“And skip dinner,” she adds. “You don’t want to feel all bloated and gross. Just have a light snack or something.”
My head is spinning with all these rules and requirements. Is sex always this complicated? In movies, people just fall into bed and everything works out perfectly. No one talks about shaving or special underwear or skipping meals.
“Don’t look so terrified,” Camile laughs. “It’s gonna be amazing. You’re finally gonna know what all the fuss is about.”
The bell rings, cutting our conversation short.
“I gotta get to calculus,” Camile says, jumping up. “But we’re hitting the mall after school, okay? Operation Lose Ari’s Virginity is officially in motion!”
She bounces out of the room, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.
I sink down onto the stool she just vacated. Operation Lose Ari’s Virginity. God, she makes it sound like some kind of military mission.
But maybe that’s what I need—a plan. A strategy. Something to make me feel more in control of this whole situation.
I pull out my notebook and flip to a blank page. At the top, I write: Things I Want to Try. Then I cross it out. Too obvious. I try again: Bucket List. Still too obvious.
Finally, I settle on: Thirteen Forbidden Things.
The title sends a little thrill through me. Forbidden. Like I’m some kind of rebel instead of just a nervous eighteen-year-old who’s never done anything more exciting than sneak out to go to Denny’s.
I start writing:
1. Be on top.
My face burns just writing it, but I keep going.
2. Send a nude.
3. Get fingered in public.
The words feel dangerous on the page. Things good girls aren’t supposed to want. Things my mom would probably have a heart attack if she knew I was even thinking about.
4. Use a vibrator.
5. Kiss someone just for fun.
6. Get tied up.
7. Have sex in a car.
8. Skinny dip.
9. Have a one-night stand.
10. Make out with a stranger.
11. Get caught doing it.
12. Sleep in the arms of a man in my room.
13. Have sex in public.
My hand is shaking by the time I write the last one. Partly from adrenaline, partly from the shock of seeing all my secret fantasies written out like that. Things I’ve thought about but never admitted to anyone. Things that make me feel like maybe I’m not as innocent as everyone thinks I am.
I fold the paper quickly and shove it into my copy of Wuthering Heights. The lunch bell rings, jolting me back to reality. I stuff the book into my bag and head to the cafeteria, my heart still pounding from my little rebellion.
I’m gathering everything up when someone clears their throat above me.
“Interesting reading material.”
I look up to find Xander Reed, the tattooed bad boy, standing there. The one teachers warn you about without using his name.
His eyes met mine. Calm. Amused. Dangerous.
And in his hand—held between two fingers, like he picked it up just to see how deep the damage went—was a folded piece of paper.
My Thirteen Forbidden Things list.
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