Page 1 of I Wish I Would’ve Warned You (Forbidden Wishes #3)

EMILY

I ’ve always envisioned losing my virginity someplace special.

Somewhere like Paris or London, in the love of my life’s bedroom, or on a balcony that overlooks a wonderland.

Tonight’s location was definitely not on that list…

Maybe if I pretend hard enough, the yellow glare from the Waffle House billboard will look more like a backdrop of mountains. After I trick my brain into thinking that, maybe I can forget that my legs are spread in the back of a messy Toyota Camry.

“Pull down the zipper on your shorts a bit further for me, babe,” Sean—my boyfriend of four weeks—whispers against my lips.

I oblige and stare up at his car’s ceiling.

How the hell did those brown stains get there?

“You’re about to have the best sex of your life with me tonight.” He slides a hand between my thighs. “Did you notice the vanilla air freshener I sprayed just for you?”

“Yeah,” I say, even though his car reeks of musty gym socks and abandoned takeout.

“That’s how much I care about you,” he says. “That’s why I—whoa, whoa, whoa. What’s going on here?”

“Huh?” I sit up. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought you said you wanted to have sex with me tonight.”

“I do.” I notice him gawking at my panties like they’re from another planet. They’re his favorite color—crimson red—and the sooner we get this over with, the quicker I can feel like everyone else feels after they’ve done it, and I can move on with my life.

“Do you not like the color or something?” I ask.

“No, I love the color, but…” He lets out a long sigh. “I only fuck bare pussies. I should’ve told you that, too.”

“What?”

“Your little bush is neat and all, but if you want a ride on this dick, you’ll need to clear the runway.” He zips up my shorts. “There’s a CVS around the corner. You can buy a razor and some shaving cream and go in the bathroom to handle that, and then we can pick up where we left off.”

I blink.

Huge red flags have appeared all week, begging me to abort Mission: Lose Virginity , and this latest one is a blasting siren I can’t ignore.

“Just take me home,” I say, moving on the seat. “I just… can’t.”

“Oh, come on, babe.” He smiles. “Part of sex is being honest about turn-ons and turn-offs. Your face is stunning, your body is amazing, but I can’t get hard to bear fur.”

I’m not your ‘babe’… I pull a hoodie over my head as he continues to shatter what’s left of our thinly-constructed relationship.

“I’m more than willing to eat your pussy,” he says. “But I don’t need the pubic hair all in my teeth, you know?”

“I got it.” I pick up my purse and make sure my phone is tucked inside. “Bottom line: I changed my mind, and I think I’d rather wait until things are different to have sex.”

“‘Things’ like being with a different guy?”

That’s obvious. “I meant like, the right time.” I slide a hand under the passenger seat, rummaging for my umbrella, but my fingers get caught on something sticky.

What the… I pull it out and nearly gag. It’s a used condom. Flattened, crusted, and streaked with something dark.

“That’s not mine,” Sean says with a straight face. Then he snatches it away and rolls down the window, flinging it outside.

Completely turned off, I grab the handle of my umbrella and try to measure my words carefully.

“I think it’s best if we end our night here and go home,” I say.

“How the hell do you expect to get home if I don’t drive you?”

I tilt my head to the side. “What are you saying?”

“If you don’t want to fuck tonight, that’s fine.” He shrugs, unzipping his jeans. “But you could at least do something for me for a while. I could’ve been hanging with my friends, but instead I decided to spend time with you.”

“Okay, you’re right, Sean.”

“I know.” He unzips his pants even further and pushes down his jeans. As he’s pulling out his cock, I step out of the car and into the rain.

Popping open my umbrella, I slam the door shut and walk away.

Far away.

Cold, angry raindrops find their way under my hoodie, between my shoulder blades, down into my socks. Every step is wetter than the last, each one soaking me deeper in regret.

When I’m halfway across the empty parking lot, Sean pulls up next to me.

“Stop being dramatic and get back in the car, Emily.”

“I’ll pass.”

“There’s only highway for the next eight miles.”

“I’ll still pass.”

“When I read the news tomorrow, I’ll hate to see that you got run over by a semi-truck.” He doesn’t look remotely sympathetic. “What a shame it would be when the reporters are wondering why you didn’t have any ID or your phone.”

I stop walking and see him holding my purse and phone.

I reach out for it, but he pulls it back.

“Why can’t you just stop being a jerk and take me home?”

“Suck me off and I will.”

I don’t say anything. Just reach out again. “Give me my stuff.”

He tosses the purse, but he keeps my phone.

“Sean, really?” I ask. “Stop being so immature.”

“Immature is making me stop talking to other girls just for you to lead me on.” He scoffs. “Especially since you just moved to town and I had plenty of other options.”

I roll my eyes. I’m not sure if this is his attempt at gaslighting or guilting, but it’s not working.

“How would you feel if you were me, Emily?”

“I would feel like the asshole I’ve always been.” I glare at him. “Give. Me. My. Phone.”

“Sure thing.” He tosses it out the window and speeds away.

Gasping, I rush over to where it fell, picking it up and noticing that the screen is shattered. The signal is weak and the battery is clinging to life support.

I’m screwed.

I hold back a scream as his car eases onto the highway, as his lights join the red sea of traffic far ahead.

I didn’t think this out far enough, and with every sheet of rain that falls over me, I’m thinking about how I’ll have to write about this in my next poem.

How no other title except “Foolish, Foolish Girl” will fit.

I gave up a night at the writing café for this, a night with a warm latte, my playlist, and words…

Holding onto my umbrella, I start walking and envision Sean getting hit with a Mack truck.

It’s not until I reach an “Upcoming Food and Gas Stations” sign, when I see that they’re all three miles away, that I let out a pent-up scream.

I pull out my phone and it flashes the dead battery icon.

Okay. Now, I’m fucked.