Lydia's room

I was prepared that it would hurt. That's what my mom had told me about her 'first time'. And it had also been mentioned on various Internet sites that I had visited for research purposes on this topic. My fingers clawed into the bed sheet and I tried to keep calm, though my heart was throbbing in fearful anticipation. Why hadn't I said 'no'? We didn't know each other well enough. At least not that way. We should have just taken some time with it. But now it was too late. Although I had been prepared for that, I winced when he finally entered me and a burning pain spread in my lower abdomen. Done! I thought disillusioned. Now I wasn't a virgin anymore. I didn't know if it still was caused from the pain, which admittedly gradually subsided, or if it was simply the fact that I had just lost my virginity that I started to sob.

"Lydia?"

He interrupted any further action, pulled back and gazed at me with a startled look.

"Did I hurt you? Oh man, I'm sorry! I have no experience with... with virgins," he stammered helplessly.

I almost smiled as he struggled desperately to find the right words.

"I'm really sorry," he repeated again, gently wiping the tears from my cheek. "I should have realized that you weren't ready at all."

But I was ready, I thought, confused. I had literally thrown myself at him and had begged him to sleep with me. So I must have been ready. No idea what he meant. When I heard him gasp, I followed his gaze. There was only a small blood stain on the bed sheet. And not even as much as if I suddenly had gotten my menstruation. So I couldn't really understand why he looked at me so shocked. "It's okay," I said quickly. "It wasn't that bad."

"I think I should go now."

I watched in confusion as he picked up the used condom, dumped it in the trash can, and then quickly got dressed. Presumably he was more used to being told in the end how great it had been and not 'it wasn't that bad', it crossed my mind. But I couldn't bring myself to say something 'nice' to him. He probably would have known anyway that it was a lie. As he walked to the door, I jumped out of bed, grabbed my T-shirt, and slipped it over. "Davis, wait!"

He slowly turned to me, and I actually recognized something like fear and uncertainty in his eyes. "Was that it?" I asked softly. "No kiss? No hug to say goodbye?" When he gave me a quick hug and just a kiss on the cheek, I could barely hold back my tears. Was that really it? Didn't he want to see me again after we had sex? I knew his reputation. But somehow I had been so naive to believe that it would be different for him with me. But apparently I wasn't special. And the worst part was that I had lied to him about Jude. I hadn't broken up with him. I had just decided to do it and had just wanted to wait for a good opportunity to tell him. After Davis had left my room and I had locked the door again, I couldn't hold back tears. Sobbing, I sank onto the bed and curled up in a ball. I didn't know how long I had lain on the bed and had cried when there was a knock on the door.

"Lydia? Is everything okay? Why did you lock your door?"

Startled, I jumped up and stared in horror at the bed sheet, where you could still clearly see the blood stain. Quickly, I reached for my clothes, got dressed, before I threw the blanket over the stain, went to the door and opened. "Hi Mom!" I greeted my mother in a slightly trembling voice. "I was so tired after school and lay down a bit," I lied. "I suppose I ended up accidentally locking myself in." I saw her eyes go to the unmade bed and prayed that she wouldn't lift the covers now.

"Okay. If you're awake now, I'd like you to help me downstairs in the kitchen making dinner."

I nodded. "Yeah, of course," I said and shoved her towards the exit. When we finally went downstairs, I exhaled in relief. She hadn't noticed, or she would have said something. All I had to do was to put the sheet into the washing machine and then discard the used condom elsewhere. While I was standing in the kitchen, cutting vegetables with my mother, I wondered what to do next with Davis, with Jude and with the fact that I had a crush on Davis and had no idea how to deal with these feelings. Especially now that he had dumped me. The problem was that I couldn't trust anyone. Sawyer had already made her position clear on the subject, and I couldn't go to Jamie either. I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I didn't hear the doorbell.

"Please, can you open the door, Lydia?"

I nodded, wiped my hands and then went to the door. It was Justin Baker, who was standing in the door frame, looking at me with a frown. "Justin?" I exclaimed surprised. "Jamie isn't here," I said quickly. But if I thought that he would leave, I was wrong.

"I don't want to see Jamie," he said after a brief hesitation. "I'm here to talk to you." He cleared his throat. "It's about the poem."

"The... poem?" I repeated slowly as I frantically thought about what I could tell him without revealing Sawyer's secret. The plan had been completely stupid, I realized just now. And I was annoyed with myself for agreeing to it. When he looked at me expectantly and didn't budge, I softened. "Okay, come in," I told him. "Let's go up to my room." Fortunately, my mother didn't ask any questions when I went upstairs with him. But how stupid the idea had been, I realized right away when I opened the door to my room and saw my rumpled bed with the remaining traces of the loss of my virginity. I quickly closed the door again, before Justin could enter. "It's... pretty messy in there," I muttered as I felt my cheeks heating up. "Let's go to Jamie's room." I felt really uncomfortable when Justin and I then sat on Jamie's sofa and he held the poem before my nose.

"Do you have any idea who wrote this?"

I just glanced at it, because I didn't want to know what Sawyer had written to him. That was her private affair and none of my business. "No," I lied and returned the poem to him.

"I don't believe you." He frowned. "According to Jamie, you gave it to him to put it in my locker."

I cleared my throat and wondered what I could answer. "That's true, but I just wanted to do someone a favor," I said hesitantly.

"Yes, I know that. But who did you want to do a favor?"

I could hear from his tone that he was about to lose his temper. But I couldn't tell him. I promised Sawyer. "I can't tell you," I replied, stoically meeting his gaze. "I'm sorry, but the sender wants to stay anonymous."

"What a bullshit!" He shouted and ran a hand through his hair. "How should I thank her if I don't even know who wrote this!"

I felt sorry for him, but I wasn't a traitor. He would've had to torture me before even a word would come over my lips. "The sender wants to stay anonymous," I repeated again.

"Is that kind of a... a game?" He asked, frowning angrily.

I shook my head. "No, it's not a game."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It's just a farewell poem," I explained as I remembered what Sawyer had told me. "It's her way of saying goodbye."

"And you really don't know who the sender is?" He asked suspiciously.

"Yes, I know," I finally admitted softly, then winced as he grabbed my arms and looked me straight in the eye.

"Then tell me who it is, right here, right now!" He blurted out and started to shake me slightly. "Tell me, Lydia! Then I'll leave you alone."

I thought that I had already shed enough tears for one day, but apparently I was wrong, because to my horror, I noticed how my eyes filled with tears again. Justin released me immediately and looked at me startled.

"I'm sorry, Lydia! I didn't want to hurt you!"

I stifled a laugh, because those were almost the same words Davis had used after we had sexual intercourse. But the thought of my disastrous defloration didn't really help to improve my mood. I started to sob and finally found myself in Justin's arms.

"It's all right," he murmured soothingly as he gently stroked my back.

I wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault why I was crying. But then I should have told him everything else. He held out a handkerchief to me, grabbing it, I wiped my eyes. Embarrassed I moved aside. "I have my... cycle," was the first thing that came to mind. "I'm always a bit emotional then." To my biggest surprise, he nodded and looked at me knowingly.

"Yes, I know. My mom and Izzy are the same," he confessed and smiled sympathetically.

As he rose and walked to the door, I exhaled in relief. Apparently he wouldn't press me anymore because of the poem.

"I'm leaving now. But tell the sender that she should reconsider her decision about revealing her true identity."

I nodded. "I'll tell her," I promised. And I meant it, I would talk to Sawyer. Even though her feelings would be unrequited, she should be honest with him. But before I could call her, I had to fix my room first and help my mom with dinner. Quickly I got up, went over to my room and began stripping off the bed cover.