Page 12 of Wanting Cameron

George laughed again. Lachlan looked uncomfortable, watching Thom intently like he was expecting something to happen.

“At least I’m not an asshole,” I barked at Thom. “At least I have some fucking self-respect.”

Thom’s grin widened, like he was impressed. “Is that so? Did your balls just drop, wee man?” He reached down suddenly, his massive hand heading toward my crotch, and I jumped back, stumbling.

“Thom,” Lachlan said, gripping his arm. “Quit it.”

Thom was laughing, genuinely amused by his own cruelty, and I felt disgust wash over me, at him, at George, at Lachlan for not doing more to stop it, at myself for thinking for even a second that anyone could actually want me when there were guys like Lucien in the world.

And now, everyone I know has had sex, but I’m still a virgin.

I pull my laptop onto the bed, open a new browser window, and create a profile on the Lure dating app my friend Liam uses.

For my main photo, I choose a professional headshot my mom made me take last year. I’m wearing a button-down shirt, my hair is neatly styled, and I’m smiling in a way that looks genuine but not too eager.

I look good. But this is a dating app. Should I pick a more casual photo or a more revealing one? I think about what kind of girl my profile might attract. I decide to keep the more professional-looking one. But I balance my choice by including pictures from my trip to the Mediterranean last summer in the bio section.

There’s one of me on a yacht, shirtless, the sun glinting off the water behind me. Another of me diving off a cliff into turquoise water. Another of me sitting on a beach, my abs clearly visible, my skin tanned and glowing. I have a toned body, so I might as well show it. I go for an interesting and approachable vibe when I describe myself. I mention my love of music—indie bands, mostly. I talk about my major—neuroscience—and my interest in how the brain works. I include a line about loving to travel, another about being a good listener. I want to come across as sensitive. Intelligent. Decent. I don’t want anyone dark or negative. I want someone nice, someone my mom will like.

I pause, staring at the screen.

Would someone like that be eager to take my virginity though?

Would someone gentle and warm want to sleep with a guy who has no experience? Or would they want someone who knows what they’re doing?

I don’t know. I’m not sure I care. I just need this to happen. I need to stop being the guy who’s never had sex. I need to prove to myself that I’m normal. That there’s nothing wrong with me.

I finish the profile and post it.

Then I lie back on my pillow and stare up at the smooth crown molding that runs along the edge of the ceiling.

I wonder if anyone will even notice my profile.

I wonder if anyone will message me.

I wonder if I’m making a mistake.

But I’m too tired to care.

When I wake up, the laptop is still open beside me, the screen glowing faintly in the early-morning light.

There’s a notification.

My heart skips.

I pull the computer toward me, blinking away the sleep, and click on the message.

It’s from a girl named Gwen.

hey, sexy! i see we have a lot in common. we should chat

I stare at the message for a long moment, my pulse quickening.

Sexy.

No one’s ever called me that before.

I click on her profile.