Radhika Sanghani - Virgin

‘How is being different a good thing?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know.’ She sighed. ‘I guess…. I wish I hadn’t thrown my virginity away on a total dick, and you haven’t, so that makes you different. You have morals. It’s a good thing.’

‘I didn’t have a choice, remember? The dick I tried to give my virginity to said no.’

She rolled her eyes, ‘Ellie, that was, like, four years ago. You need to get over the James Martell thing.’

I winced.

The James Martell ‘thing’?

‘Um, Lara, you know how horrible that was for me. The Bite Job was awful—you can’t deny that. And then he totally rejected me. I couldn’t just “get over it”.’

‘He was a decent guy, Ellie,’ she said, her tone irritable. ‘If you hadn’t been so terrified of seeing him again, you probably would have ended up going out, and eventually losing your virginity to him in a really nice way. Instead, you just totally flipped out about it all.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked in a slightly strangled voice, knowing I wouldn’t like the response.

She sighed. ‘Don’t hate me for saying this, but I think you’re scared.’

‘Scared?! How can you say that?’ Hurt welled up inside me. ‘Lara, it’s so easy for you. You never had to worry about any of this, and OK, so Jez is a bit of a dick to you, but you both clearly really like each other and you’ve been seeing him on and off for years. It’s different for me. You have no idea how hard it is to be alone when everyone around you is in a relationship or living single life to the max and sleeping with the whole university.’

‘But you’re not alone, are you?’ she snapped. ‘You have your friends, you’re doing well at uni—but you’re just obsessed with finding a guy and losing your virginity. If you forgot about that for one second, you might actually enjoy your final year instead of freaking out the whole time.’

I felt tears start to sting the back of my eyes. ‘Do you ever think for a second that I do try?’ I asked her. ‘That losing my virginity is important to me because it would help me finally fit in? You fit in without even trying. I don’t even understand why I’m a virgin. No one we know has ever had an issue losing their virginity—more often, they regret losing it to the wrong guy. You had an opportunity with Marc but the only one I’ve ever had was with James Martell. Maybe I fucked it up because, yes, post–Bite Job I was scared of seeing him, but I was seventeen. Since then, no other guy has been interested in me so I’ve never had an opportunity to try again. Lara, I try so hard to meet men and none of them ever do anything more than kiss me—exactly like last night. You just go out to a club and a hot guy comes over and flirts with you. I get stuck with the old men and emos, and then my best friend has sex in my bathroom with a stranger. Do you not understand why I feel alone?’

‘Oh my God, why do you keep going on about the bathroom thing?’ she asked, her voice becoming shrill and high. ‘I’m sorry that Angus preferred me to you. Maybe it’s because I’m not so desperate.’

I felt as though she had whacked me across the face. ‘Desperate? You actually, genuinely think I’m desperate? How can you say that?’

She looked guilty but the apology I expected didn’t come. ‘Well, I just think you’re a bit … I don’t know, obsessed with this whole thing. You wanted to lose your virginity to a guy in a club.’

‘So?! It’s my choice,’ I replied, trying not to cry. ‘Lara, you can’t judge me when you’ve never been in my position.’ I closed my eyes tightly and blurted out something I regretted immediately. ‘Why have you suddenly decided to care about it, anyway? You never have before.’

Her mouth dropped open. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie, but are you suggesting I don’t care ? I’m here for you whenever you need me. I drop everything every time you have a crisis, which is pretty much every other day.’

My hurt morphed into anger. ‘So? We’re best friends—that’s what we do. OK, fine, I have a lot of crises, but they’re not serious. I don’t … I don’t mope about them or anything.’

She cried out in disbelief, ‘Please, Ellie. You are so self-pitying. And you know what? You can be really selfish, too.’

‘ I can be selfish? Look who’s talking! We spend hours talking about Jez every couple of days, analysing his text messages, and going on and on about the latest news at Oxford when I don’t even go there, and I don’t care about the people there.’

‘Exactly,’ she spat. ‘You don’t care about the people in my life but you expect me to care about whatever guy recently smiled at you on the tube, or the people you hate in your English course. It’s almost like you’re jealous of me.’

We stared at each other, and our words seemed to echo around the room. This was our first fight. I didn’t know how much of it we meant. Was it true? Was I selfish? The silence was unbearable. I finally understood the phrase about cutting the tension in a room with a knife.

She stood up abruptly. ‘Whatever. I’m leaving.’ She grabbed her bag and coat, and walked out of my room, slamming the door behind her.

The minute she left, I burst into tears and all the anger dissolved into hurt and regret. She was right—I did self-pity and mope and I was selfish. But wasn’t everyone? And how could she say those things to me? Didn’t she care that she had just hurt me more than any boy ever had?

I curled into a ball on my bed and began to cry very quietly. My wet hair soaked through my dressing gown, but I barely noticed. Lara thought I was desperate.

SHE STILL HADN’T CALLED. It was Wednesday and I didn’t know whether to stay in my Camden room or go back home to Guildford. Lara would be there, too—or maybe she had gone back to Oxford to be as far away from me as possible. We’d never had a falling-out before.

In the cold light of day, a bit of the anger had come back. The things she had said were so hurtful, and so … true. She had blurted them out without caring how I felt, and I’d been just as bad. I couldn’t face her and I couldn’t even begin to start processing the thought of an apology. I had spent all of Tuesday crying, eating my feelings and distracting myself with movies. Now I had an ice cream hangover and couldn’t spend another second in my own company.

The only option was to pack up my stuff and head home in defeat for the Easter holidays, but I couldn’t bear the thought of sitting around in Guildford with nothing to do. The only reason I normally went home was to spend evenings with Lara, watching films and lounging in the park. I couldn’t face going back yet. At least if I stayed in London, I would be surrounded by people. I needed a distraction, to spend time with someone different so I wouldn’t have to think about Lara.

Suddenly I remembered Emma. If she was still around, maybe we could have our promised drinks. Before I could change my mind, I reached for my phone and sent her a text asking if she was free. I hadn’t even had a chance to put my phone down when it buzzed with a reply.

Yes! So glad you texted. I say we get a late pub lunch and start drinking immediately afterwards. Girly cocktails?

Perfect. Where shall we meet?

See you at The Rocket at 3pm?

Done!! x

Feeling proud of myself for taking the initiative and doing something with my day, I showered quickly and decided to walk the thirty minutes to the pub to work off some of yesterday’s calories. I’d forced myself into my favourite black skinny jeans and even though it had taken me half an episode of Friends to do them up, they were finally covering my cellulite and inspiring me to walk briskly. I flicked around on my iPod until I found my Fuck You, World playlist. It was a relic of my teen angst days but I needed to reembrace life. And dancing to The Killers was the easiest way to do it.