Page 29 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

“I still don’t understand what my chest has to do with his workouts.”

“Cordy,” Tabitha straightened up, eyes unfocused and brows furrowed, “sorry to bring this up, and I promise this isn’t me distracting you, but how long since your mom died?”

“You can say that she was murdered,” I replied, because people always shied away from the word as if it was shameful,“she didn’t justdiefrom old age or illness or anything. And it’s been almost 17 years.”

“Right,” she nodded, “and you’ve been staying at home ever since she was murdered, right?”

“Yes,” I said. As much as I was open about my mother’s murder, the effects it had on me were still harder to talk about. Especially because, over the years, I’d heard about every quick fix in the book for PTSD-related agoraphobia. Meditation. Short walks to the mailbox and back. Electromagnetic waves, crystals, hypnosis…

“In seventeen years, you’ve never dated anyone? Even just online?”

“No.”

“Oooh,” Defne let out under her breath.

Tabitha’s eyes cleared up when she blinked at me, coming to the only logical conclusion there was: “You’re a virgin.”

“Yes.”

A beat of silence passed as we all sat with that confirmation. Del was the one to break it first. “Are you even interested in sex?” she asked. “Because plenty of people aren’t. That’s totally normal.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged, “and I don’t feel weird about never having slept with anyone. I’m not a virgin by choice, but by circumstance. I’m very careful about who I spend my time with. That limits my options.”

“The circumstances suck, but I’m glad that you never felt pressured to have sex,” Del nodded, “you’re doing this at your own pace.”

“For what it’s worth,” Defne said, “I’m really glad that I waited until I was with someone who made me feel comfortable and safe and cherished.”

“Well, to get us back to the topic of your great tits,” Tabitha cleared her throat, “you might be thinking about the kiss. He’sprobably thinking about railing you six ways to Sunday after getting a preview of what your tits feel like.”

“He’s not like that,” I said.

Del snorted and avoided my eyes.

“I promise you, he’s thought about it,” Tabitha said.

“Del?” I asked.

She lifted her shoulders and grimaced, staring down at the rest of the whipped cream in her cup. “Idon’tthink he would tell you. Idothink that if you are ready for something complicated, you have a chance of making things work this time.”

“This time?” Defne and Tabitha asked almost simultaneously.

“We’ve kissed before,” I replied, “once.”

“Oh my god, really?” Defne gasped, while Tabitha asked: “When was that?”

“Six years ago.”

“Sixyearsago?” Defne balked. She was the youngest of us. She had turned 25 in early January, which meant six years were basically a quarter of her life. Six years ago, she would have been a teenager.

“We need more details,” Tabitha said.

“I’ve been so curious about this,” Del pulled her legs up and propped her chin on her knees, “you never told me about that kiss.”

“You never asked.” I blinked. If she had asked, I would have told her. It wasn’t a big secret.

My gaze moved over their patient, encouraging smiles, and my chest flooded with warmth. Maybe she’d never asked because you were supposed to volunteer this kind of information amongst girls. I vaguely remembered my early middle school days, giggling with my friends around the lunch table and falling silent only when a cute boy walked past.

I hadn’t hadfriendsin a long time.