kisses

°1°

The fucker actually laughs at me. "Fuck all this waiting around. How long has it been? You should talk to her."

I shift my position against the cold pillar I'm leaning against, my

entire body lax. Casual. Though deep inside, I'm coiled tight, my

gaze going to her once more. Yet again.

Always.

Shehnaaz gill.

She ambles up the walkway toward the school's entrance. Toward me. With a serene smile on her face, she radiates light, casting her unique beam on everyone she walks past, lulling them into a trance. She greets everyone-but me-in that high-pitched voice, offering them a pleasant good morning like she's Snow fucking White. Friendly and sweet, and so goddamned beautiful, it almost hurts to look at her for too long,

My gaze drops to her left hand, where the thin gold band fits snug around her ring finger, a single, tiny diamond resting atop it. A promise ring she received at one of those fucked-up ceremonies where a slew of prepubescent future debutantes are put on parade in a sea of pastel gowns cut in demure lines. Not an inch of scandalous skin visible. Their dates are their daddies, important men among society, who like

to own things, including women. Such as their daughters. Sometime during the evening, they are put through a painful ceremony where they turn to face their fathers and repeat a vow of chastity to them while the ring is slipped onto their fingers. Like it's a wedding. Strange as hell, if you ask me. Glad my father didn't put my older sister Charlotte through that bullshit. Sounds like something he'd

enjoy.

Our little Shehnaaz is a virgin and proud of it. Everyone on campus knows about the speeches she gives the other girls, about saving themselves for their future husbands..

It's fucking pitiful.

When we were younger, the girls in our class listened to Shehnaaz and agreed. They should save themselves. Value their bodies and not give them away to us disgusting, useless creatures. But then we all got a little older and fell into relationships or hookups. One by one, her friends lost their virginity.

Until she was the last virgin standing in the senior class.

"You waste your time with that one, Shukla," says my other closest friend, Malcolm. The fucker is richer than God and from London, so all the girls on campus throw their panties at him, thanks to his British accent. He doesn't even have to ask. "She's a right prude and you know it."

"That's half the reason he wants her," Ezra cracks, knowing my truth. "He's dying to corrupt her. Steal all her firsts from that mythical future husband she'll have one day. The one who won't give a shit if she's a virgin or not."

My friend isn't wrong. That's exactly what I want to do. Just to say I

can. Why save yourself for some fake man who will do nothing but disappoint you on your wedding night?

So damn foolish.

Malcolm contemplates Shehnaaz as she stops and talks to a cluster of

girls, all of them younger than her. Each of them fluttering around

her as if she's their mama bird and they're all her dependent babies,

eager for a scrap of attention from her.

"Wouldn't mind having a go at her either," Malcolm murmurs, his gaze narrowing as he continues staring at her.

I send him a murderous look. "Touch her and you're fucking dead."