33 Molly

When I woke up for school on Monday morning, it was to a heavy, muscular arm draped over my stomach.

For a long time, I lay perfectly still, trying to take in every cloudy flashback and hazy, drunk-fueled memory of the night before.

It didn’t take long for me to recall last night's events, especially not when Daryl was naked in my bed.

I'd had an awful lot of firsts this weekend.

A lot of firsts in this bed.

A lot of firsts with this boy.

Once I realized that I was also naked, shame came quickly.

Slipping out from under his muscular arm, I slid off the bed, grabbed a bunch of random clothes from my closet, and moved straight for my adjoining bathroom.

Once I was safely inside, I moved to the sink and dared to look at my reflection.

Oh my Jesus.

I looked like something Wallace, Daryl's dog when we were kids, barfed up, ate, and then barfed up again.

I felt like my life had been ripped from the pages of a steamy romance novel.

Could I be any trashier?

Diving into the shower, I switched the water on and stood under the steady stream of lukewarm water as it washed away my sins from the night before.

I had sex last night.

Did the deed.

Popped the cherry.

I lost my virginity on a drunken whim to the quarterback of the high school football team.

Stop freaking out, I mentally commanded myself as I washed my body from head to toe. You didn’t give your v-card up to just any football player. You gave it up to Daryl.

It's not like anyone else would want you, another voice in my head sneered, he probably felt sorry for you. The beer and weed blurred his vision. That's the only way he could ever want to touch someone like you...

And just like that, my insecurities roared to life, louder and more persevering than ever.

Numb, I switched off the water and quickly dried off before dressing in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved sweater. I brushed my teeth and dragged a comb through my hair.

Daryl was still sleeping when I stepped back into my room. He was face down on the mattress, his arm still stretched over where I had been, his glorious body naked and on full display for the world to see.

He was going to regret this so bad when he woke up.

What happened this weekend was going to ruin everything we were trying to rebuild.

He wanted to be friends.

Friends.

The guilt he felt for ignoring me was the catalyst for sleeping with me.

It had to be.

And now?

Now everything was ruined.

The feelings that I always harbored for him, the ones I had forced myself to put on ice, were blisteringly hot like molten lava now, threatening to overwhelm me, and inevitably wreck me.

Blinking rapidly, I forced my tears back, and gave myself just a couple more minutes to look at him before reluctantly tearing my gaze away.

And then I did the most sensible thing I could in that moment.

I left him in my bed and went to school.