The next day, catching up with work was as painful as I’d predicted. With only a week and a half to go until the launch, organising was my top priority. But, as the office minion, I was also responsible for all the fun-filled ‘pleb’ chores, such as printer-fixing. Today, ‘The Beast’ — christened during a particularly stressful afternoon in my first week at indi — beeped like a truck driver with road rage as I pushed its buttons in an attempt to reset it. Meanwhile, Harrison moaned that he couldn’t finish his work without his printouts.
‘Oi, doll, ignore him,’ said Sia, using a notebook to fan her face. ‘Sweet lord, I’m like a human hot-water bottle wrapped in a doona in front of a heater at the moment. And did I tell you about the constant farting?’
‘Josie, can you pop over for a second?’ Liani cried out, thankfully coming to my rescue before Sia had a chance to finish that story.
I pulled up a seat next to Liani and tried not to stare at the mess on her desk. Piles of papers threatened to topple onto the keyboard, her favourite coffee cup was accompanied by at least four others, and the desk was dusted with crumbs. Lots and lots of crumbs.
‘First things first: what’s the word on Maxxy?’ Liani asked.
‘No luck yet. But we have plenty of other great people locked in.’
Liani sighed. ‘Follow up with her manager again and, in the meantime, put some feelers out for a back-up option. We are cutting this way too fine. I want Maxxy, though, I really, really do.’
Funny what happens when you decide to plan a launch in less than three weeks, I wanted to whinge, but held my tongue. I knew Mya was pulling the strings more than Liani would ever admit.
‘I’ll get on it,’ I assured her.
‘Thanks. I also wanted to chat about your latest columns.’ She paused. ‘You know I love your writing, and they’re getting good clicks on the site, which is … good.’
‘Good,’ I repeated, wondering where she was going with this.
She squirmed in her seat. ‘But as good as those stories are — and please don’t take this the wrong way — from now on I need them to be great.’
‘Okay, great.’
I pinched my hand to stop myself repeating more words back to her. The truth was, I wasn’t that surprised. After my talk with Rae, I’d reread my columns and could see that, while they were well written, I had some way to go in perfecting my message. Like Rae had said, the columns showed potential, but I could dig deeper. Do more. Be better.
‘For your next column, pick something juicy, smart and topical to sink those pearly chompers of yours into,’ Liani said. ‘Something to boost hits, and give us something to dangle in front of new advertisers. Something to give those glossies a run for their money.’
I nodded. ‘Okay, topical … you mean like … voting?’
Liani stifled a chuckle. ‘Sure, it’s topical, but it’s not hot enough to sell … not yet anyway.’
‘Um, what about dating?’ I suggested. ‘That’s always pretty juicy. Like, how to date with phone apps, or dating with old-school rules in a new-school world … something like that?’
‘That’s getting warmer … we’re in the ballpark. Think dating, relationships, guys, love —’
‘Sex!’ Harrison hollered.
‘What?’ I blurted out before I could stop myself.
Liani raised her eyebrow. ‘Harrison, this is a site for smart, savvy young women — you know we don’t do any of that “How to please your guy” rubbish.’
I tried not to look too thrilled by this news. I didn’t know how I’d go about writing something like that, considering how confused I was on the whole matter.
‘I didn’t say it had to be about pleasing your guy — although that sounds like a great read — but I am saying it’s the kind of topic that gets hits,’ Harrison said.
Liani nodded. ‘Okay … well, we could give it an indi spin. Jose, I know you were talking about something similar with Sophie the model the other day. We could really explore the topic: who’s doing it, what they’re doing, where it’s happening, how society has changed in its attitudes, if at all — almost like a history lesson.’
‘History lesson?’ Harrison cringed. ‘Li, that is the least sexy thing I have ever heard — and I studied web design.’
‘Er, what about the readers who haven’t, you know, gone there yet?’ I said, pretending I was asking for purely work-related reasons. ‘Won’t a topic like that be excluding them?’
‘Josie, that’s it, that’s perfect! Focus the column on losing your virginity,’ Liani said.
I almost choked. ‘Excuse me?’
‘In a general sense, of course,’ she clarified. ‘You can cover it all, from knowing when’s the right time, to how to handle the pressure of the decision, how opinions are changing — or not — and how you feel about the topic. It’ll be relatable to everyone.’
‘You want me to comment on how I feel?’
‘Well, it is an opinion column, right?’ she said. ‘This is great — it’ll be the perfect topic for our demographic. I’m thinking a smart, cool, in-your-face essay — our readers will eat it up and come back for seconds.’
I nodded, struggling to wrap my head around the fact that I was about to write a racy column that would be accessible to the whole world, including Mum and my much-more-experienced boyfriend.
‘Jose, I’ve got to quickly call Mya and grab a coffee, but spin out six hundred words and we’ll publish it as soon as it’s been edited.’
I shook my head, stunned at how quickly this conversation had unravelled. ‘I’m not sure I can do this.’
Liani crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Are you a writer for indi, Josie?’
I gulped. ‘Of course, I —’
‘Then you can write it,’ Liani said, in a firmer tone than usual.
‘Sounds good,’ I managed to say, a little shaken by the strength in her voice. ‘Sex me up.’
What followed was the longest, most awkward silence of all time, including when Chris Streaker farted in science in Year Nine and blamed it on Mrs Goodie. This was a gazillion times worse because: (a) I was involved; and (b) I’d just said ‘Sex me up’ to my boss. I could hear Harrison spluttering at his desk.
I closed my notebook. ‘I’m going to get started on sex ideas — I mean, some ideas.’
I walked back to my desk, trying to ignore Liani’s and Harrison’s laughter freely rocketing around the walls of indi HQ.
I sat down and opened up a new document. The white page stared back at me. Even after all this time, I still didn’t know how to win it over — it’s not like I could shout it an iced chocolate.
A column on sex and virginity. Why, oh, why, did Harrison have to plant that seed?
‘Josie, is it home time yet?’ groaned Sia.
I was glad of the distraction. ‘I wish. Have you had any more weird cravings?’
‘Not unless pumpkin with chocolate sprinkles is weird.’
‘Just a tad,’ I said. ‘Hey, I was meaning to ask you how you’re doing? You know, really doing?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said, then sighed. ‘Scott, on the other hand … ’
I couldn’t help myself. ‘How’d he take it?’
Sia paused. ‘He’s … taking it. Taking it in, taking his time … We’ll see if he wants to take it on.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘He was shocked, obviously, so it’s a lot to think about.’ She shrugged. ‘It is what it is. Dad’s pretty cute though, he’s surprised me. He’s already put dibs on “Pa”, just in case Scott’s family have any ideas …’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Urgh, my life has turned into a clichéd soap-opera pregnancy storyline. Distract me, I’m begging you. What are you working on?’
I pointed to the blank page. ‘Nothing at the moment.’
‘Go on, tell me before I have to pee again. This little gremlin is using my lady-bits as a watering can.’
I lowered my eyes then mumbled, ‘Liani wants a column on … doing it.’
‘You don’t have to whisper, she’s popped out. Anyway, I’ve got a corker on that topic.’ Sia clapped her hands together. ‘My friend was telling me about this new move —’
‘Sia … it’s about virginity,’ I said.
‘Easy! Talk about your first time and … oh.’
‘Yep,’ I said, relieved she’d caught on.
‘Does Liani know? About you, I mean?’
‘I don’t think so.’ The pressure of wondering whether Liani knew or not meant I was one meltdown away from yelling the information at her, then hiding out in an undisclosed location with a lifetime’s supply of Hawaiian pizza. ‘I feel like a fraud.’
‘It’s okay,’ Sia insisted. ‘You’ve written stories on politics for uni before, yeah? You’ve never been a politician. Or stories on fashion and you’ve never been a fashionista — okay, that came out wrong. But you know what I mean, right?’
‘I guess.’
‘You don’t need to reveal your own situation — do some research instead. Talk to people, ask them about their first time. Throw in an expert, and some statistics and charts to give it balls.’
‘Balls are a good thing?’
‘Don’t say a word, Harrison,’ Sia said, but he’d already lost it and was cracking up again. ‘Aren’t you learning all this at uni, Josie? Do a call-out online asking for people to share their first-time experiences and go from there.’
‘I can ask that sort of stuff?’
‘Josie, you’re paid to ask pervy questions — that’s what makes journalism fun.’
I couldn’t believe what Sia was saying. I would have been more comfortable asking people to tap dance for me in their knickers.
‘If all else fails, you could always do some empirical research with your boy, eh?’ She let out a giggle.
‘Ha, yeah.’ I forced a laugh, thinking of the lacy lingerie set collecting dust in my chest of drawers.
‘Don’t look so scared, hon, I’m kidding,’ Sia said. ‘Anyway, good luck.’
I was one line into a draft call-out — Looking for case studies to share their first-time story (something told me ‘cherry-popping’ wouldn’t be appropriate) — when Liani showed up next to my desk.
‘So, Mya let me know she isn’t sold on the column idea after all,’ she said, sipping her coffee.
‘Oh?’ I tried my best to fake disappointment, which was hard when every part of me wanted to jump in the air and squeal with joy. I wasn’t ready to put my virginity under the microscope yet (or ever). ‘Hey, what Mya wants, Mya gets. If the idea is not good enough for indi, I’ll tinker around with something else.’
‘Josie, I’m kidding. Mya doesn’t like — she loves it!’ Liani screeched. ‘I haven’t heard her this excited since we locked in the launch date.’
My jaw dropped.
‘Sounds like Mya, the saucy minx, wants to get down on bended knee in front of the idea, then whisk it off on a honeymoon and hand-feed it grapes,’ Harrison said, his cheeky face begging for a good slap.
‘Um …’ I couldn’t talk.
‘And that’s not all,’ Liani went on. ‘Mya suggested we run a panel on the night of the launch to cement our place as a social commentator. We still have to work out who’ll be up on stage, but isn’t that amazing?’
‘Actually that is kinda amazing,’ Sia said. ‘Mya may be a genius after all. Crazy, but a genius.’
‘This will be our chance to share our thoughts on the issues that matter, and it’ll help encourage advertisers to throw cold hard cash our way … hopefully.’ Liani beamed at us. ‘That’s enough good news for one afternoon to get us motivated. Let’s keep making the magic happen. Now, get cracking on that article, yeah?’
My fate was cemented. There was nothing left to do but stare at my call-out again, with Sia’s words ringing in my ears: You could always do some empirical research …
My phone buzzed with a text from James: Hey, pretty lady, you home tonight? I could pop around and say hi.
I thought about Sia’s joke. My article. My freak-out of virgin-sized proportions. The overpowering urge to tell James how I felt. It was like everything had been building to this moment, and the word ‘love’ was dancing on the tip of my tongue. The time was now. V-plates be damned.
I fired a quick text back to James before I changed my mind. Sure am, come around! I think the others are out tonight …
I’d never been one to play games. My approach with James was more ‘Hi, here I am, this is me!’ than ‘Hey, what’s up? I’ve been busy being awesome without you.’
The phone hummed again and I scanned the text quickly. James was coming over. He didn’t know it yet, but it was on and I was going to make sure it was perfect.
I just had to remember to shave my legs first.
I wanted James to think I was the hottest specimen he’d ever seen. I slipped into the lacy underwear, then, chickening out at how much skin was exposed, I put my loose T-shirt back over the top. Leaving my skirt crumpled on the bathroom floor, I brushed my teeth and fluffed my hair, then tiptoed down the hall towards my bedroom. I paused when I realised my palms were sweating. Hot specimens didn’t have sweaty palms. In fact, in that moment it felt like everything was sweating — even my eyebrows seemed to have sprung a leak.
I turned the door handle and entered the room. James was on the bed fiddling with his phone, oblivious to my plans. Everything was in its place: the vanilla candles lit on the dresser, half-opened blinds for ambience, and soft music playing on my stereo. I slid onto the bed and James rolled onto his side to face me, causing his T-shirt to rise and reveal a smattering of soft hair below his belly button.
‘Well, hello sunshine,’ he said, noticing I wasn’t wearing my skirt. ‘Is it no-pants Thursday?’
I weighed up my next move. It was the Perfect Time. He was the Perfect Guy. Tonight was going to be All Kinds of Perfect. I was about to tell the hottest, nicest guy I’d ever met that I loved him. For the first time. Ever.
‘JB, you’re staring right through me,’ James continued. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Um … yeah,’ I said, wiping my palms on my T-shirt. ‘Wait, that candle’s out of place.’
I leaped from the bed and straightened it, then turned back to James, who had a curious expression on his face.
‘Looks fine to me,’ he said. ‘Come here, you look gorgeous.’
‘Everything has to be perfect,’ I said. ‘These candles weren’t cheap, you know.’
James sat up. ‘Hey, remind me to show you this cool app later that —’
‘Damn it, James, I’m trying to seduce you!’ I said, voice raised.
He froze. ‘Is that what this is? Okay then …’
My T-shirt had slipped off one shoulder during my outburst, revealing the bra strap and a hint of lace. I didn’t fix it up. Instead, I put on a breathy voice and sashayed towards him, slowly, deliberately. ‘So … James … I bought this for you,’ I said, gesturing to the bra.
‘You bought me a bra?’ he cracked. ‘That’s sweet, but you know I don’t wear them.’
‘Would you take this seriously?’ I hissed, trying to pull at the strap in an alluring way, but flicking it against my collarbone instead. ‘Ow!’ I rubbed at the tender skin.
‘You’re a worry,’ he said, pulling me onto the bed with him. ‘And I’m serious. Very, very serious.’ Yet the grin on his face was anything but.
‘Do you understand what I went through to buy this stupid bra? I flashed the sales lady. She was a hundred years old.’
‘What’s the problem?’ James asked. ‘I’m sure she’s seen loads of naked people — and none as pretty as you.’
‘No more candle, bra or sales-lady talk,’ I said. ‘This is supposed to be special. I’m in the zone.’
‘For what?’
‘For … for …’ I lowered my gaze. I wanted to say the words, but nothing came out.
James didn’t force me to explain myself, or push me for more information. His fingers brushed my shoulder as he gently moved aside my T-shirt and lowered his lips to my collarbone where the strap had reddened the skin. He kissed me once, twice, then a third time. ‘Better?’
I smiled. ‘I’m sorry for being so intense. I … I … I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.’
‘Can’t say I blame you,’ he teased, pulling me in closer, his arms wrapped tightly around me.
‘I keep wondering if you think we’re moving too slow … or too fast … or are we standing still?’
‘You’re like the Goldilocks of relationships, huh?’ he said, kissing me on the tip of my nose. ‘We’re just “us”. I don’t think about where that fits in with anyone else … do you?’
‘No … yes,’ I admitted. ‘Every day. Are you still as happy as that day you kissed me on Tim’s sofa?’
James cocked his head to one side. ‘Does a cheeseburger taste better without a pickle?’
Yes. He got me.
‘JB, if anything I’m happier,’ he went on. ‘You’re over-thinking again. Now, what are those lips of yours doing all the way over there, huh?’
I leaned down, my wavy hair falling over his face, and brushed my lips against his. That familiar tingly feeling rushed through my body. He moved in close and kissed me back, before cupping my face in his hands and squishing my mouth into a funny fish expression.
‘Admit we’re awesome,’ he said.
‘No,’ I giggled through my fishy lips.
‘Admit we’re awesome or I’ll tell Prue who broke her favourite coffee mug.’
‘You wouldn’t!’ I spluttered, laughing at how muffled my voice sounded.
‘Wouldn’t I?’ James raised an eyebrow. His hands moved from my mouth to my stomach, and the flurrying, fast movements of his fingers tickling my bare skin sent jolts of electricity through my body. I writhed and wriggled, gasping with laughter.
‘Okay!’ I shouted. ‘Okay! Wait! Stop!’
James paused, holding his fingers a few centimetres from my body, the threat of tickling still imminent. ‘Say it, Jose. Repeat after me … okay?’
I nodded.
‘We.’
‘We,’ I parroted.
‘Are.’
‘Are.’
‘Awesome.’
‘Awful?’ I teased.
‘Awesome.’
‘Oh! Awkward.’
‘Awesome, smart-arse.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘We’re awesome.’
Before I knew it, he’d flipped me underneath him so he was looking down at me. For a second I thought he was going to tickle me again, but instead he lowered his lips onto mine. He tasted of orange juice. His lips traced a line from my mouth, to my neck, to my earlobe — and I burst out laughing again.
‘You’re hopeless!’ he said.
‘It tickled, that’s all.’
He kissed my neck and I felt another laugh hurtling through my body, desperate to get out. I held my breath to restrain it, but it didn’t work: the giggle evolved into an air-rattling chuckle and, for an added bonus, concluded with a snort. I groaned and pulled the sheet over my head.
‘Hey, I have more candles,’ I said. ‘I bought them especially —’
‘We don’t need them,’ said James, wriggling under the sheet with me.
It now covered us completely, hiding us away in our own little world and pushing our bodies closer together. For once, I didn’t giggle as James kissed me on the small formation of freckles beneath my right eye. They were so light, so pale, that most people didn’t even see them — but he did, and called them my Milky Way.
‘I love these freckles,’ he said, planting another kiss.
‘Well, I love these dimples,’ I said, my fingers tracing over them. ‘And hot dogs, I really, really love hot dogs … with tomato sauce, mustard, onions and cheese.’
James mumbled something, but I didn’t catch it.
‘And hot chips with gravy, I love them too,’ I rambled. ‘People who eat plain chips are weird. I mean, no gravy. Insane! And what about those people who wear —’
James cleared his throat. ‘Did you hear what I said?’
‘About gravy?’
‘No …’
‘Was it about those people who wear thongs over socks, ’cos I was about to say they’re —’
‘I love you,’ James said.
‘— freaks,’ I finished, voice trailing off. My eyes widened. ‘Wait, what did you say?’
He pulled away a little. ‘Um … I said, I love you.’
‘And I said, “freaks” … Oh god. I stuffed it up. You said the words! This is amazing … but it isn’t how it’s supposed to go! Can we rewind?’
Never in a million years did I think James would say it before me.
‘Rewind?’ James said, running his hand through his mess of brown locks. ‘You do realise this is real life? Jose, it’s fine, let’s forget I said anything. So … Mexican for dinner?’
‘No, no, no, repeat those words — those exact words — and I’ll say what you need to hear, I promise,’ I said. ‘It’ll be perfect. I feel the same as you do, trust me, every fibre of me feels the same, but I can’t say those three words now ’cos it seems like you’re kinda grumpy. You’ve got the same face as when I accidentally scratched your scooter last month. I need to wait until you look happy again … unless, maybe you could face away from me while I say it?’
Now it was James’s turn to snort. ‘You’re mad.’
‘I feel the same,’ I said again. ‘I have for ages. But when it comes to those three words, I want the first time I ever say them to be —’
‘Perfect. You mentioned that. Romance movies have a lot to answer for.’
‘You are angry.’
‘No, I’m hungry.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ I murmured, wriggling down on the bed and feeling James pull me in close. I rested my head on his chest, enjoying the feeling of him stroking my hair.
‘Look, JB, let’s just leave it for a bit, yeah?’ he said. ‘I’ve got my assessment and class lunch tomorrow, then I’m meeting your family — why don’t we deal with one thing at a time? I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for, and I know this is a big deal.’
James was right. This was a big deal. A huge deal. A Mount-Kilimanjaro-sized deal. Despite how much I’d been thinking about saying the words, and taking the next step with James, it turned out I wasn’t ready to rush it after all, especially not for the sake of an article.