Page 21 of Ruined

“How often?”

“How often what?” His lips quirk into a little smirk.

I know he’s just trying to provoke me, and I hate that it’s working. “How often do you meet men for sex?”

He takes a bite of his sausage roll, chewing as he contemplates the question. “That was the first time,” he admits finally, and when he meets my eyes, he looks vulnerable, as if he’s afraid of my reaction.

“The first time… ever?”

He nods. “It would’ve been.”

In some ways, I’m relieved, but in other ways, that makes it worse. His first time… So he was about to give his virginity to a stranger? And he went to this stranger’s apartment without even communicating his inexperience. If he’d met the wrong guy, God knows what could’ve happened. He could’ve been hurt.

“You need to be more careful.” My voice comes out harsher than I meant it to.

Oliver shrugs. “Yeah, but I was sick of waiting. I wanted to get fucked.”

I make a choked sound. When I look at Oliver again, he’s smirking with mischief, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. The little brat.

This conversation wasn’t supposed to be about sex at all. I was supposed to ask him about his life, not his sex life, and I certainly wasn’t supposed to find out he’s a virgin. Christ, how did this even happen? I should’ve shut it down from the beginning, but that wouldn’t have been fair either.

Gathering myself, I try to speak slowly, without judgment. “I understand you want to explore that part of your life, but your first time shouldn’t be with a stranger.”

“No?” He raises his eyebrows, like he’s waiting for something. He’s not protesting like I thought he would, and it makes alarm bells ring in my mind.

“No.” I decide this is the right time to change the subject. It’s now or never, because Oliver seems determined to catch me off guard. “How’s your mother?”

He gives an annoyed scowl, but it’s better to annoy him than to let him imply whatever he was implying earlier.

“She’s fine. Just spent the entire summer on a trip to Europe with her newest fling, Fabio.” He does the biggest eye roll, and it makes me smile. There’s my Oliver. “Let’s see how long it lasts.”

“So she’s had many partners?”

Oliver shrugs, staring down at his plate. “I’ve lost count. My boss is one of them—Guillaume, this annoying French guy. I work at his restaurant.”

“What happened with college?” We’ve already been over this part, but I want him to talk about it when he’s not so upset.

“Well… I got into MIT.”

“What?” This time, I find it hard to hide my disappointment. I want him to do what feels right for him—of course I do. I have no right to dictate his choices, but if he got into one of the most prestigious colleges in the country and still didn’t go, it seems like a wasted opportunity.

His jaw ticks. “I told you; it just didn’t feel right. And then I talked to Mason, and I…” He cuts himself off, gaze falling, and he looks so small and vulnerable that I can’t help but change the subject.

“How is he? Mason.”

Oliver’s mouth tenses into a straight line. “He’s great. Better now that he’s out of prison.”

My stomach drops. “Prison?”

“Yeah, and now that he’s together with my best friend.”

I hold up a hand. “Back up. Mason went to prison? Why?”

“Yeah, for beating up his boss. Aggravated assault.”

The words ring in my ears.

“But it’s fine now, I guess,” Oliver continues. “He’s out and living a normal life with Lane. He’s got a job and everything.”