As if tonight wasn't horrible enough, they decided to carpool to dinner together and she found herself squashed between Tori, who was engrossed in her cellphone, and Derek, who hadn't spoken a word to Chloe. Which was fine because they'd get it over with and never talk again. She knew what would happen but she was still concerned about the pain.

"Turn here," Kit said, breaking Chloe's train of thought.

Dinner was quiet—not silent, at least—as she unenthusiastically picked at her slice of lukewarm pizza. Next to her Lauren was in a soft, heated discussion with Kit, their heads bowed together as they spoke, but it didn't sound like an argument at least.

Across from her Derek kept his attention entirely on his large plate of pasta, one arm tucked around the plate like he was bracing himself for someone to try to take it from him, shoulders hunched.

As she watched, his eyes lifted and met hers and she quickly looked down, taking a bite of her pizza. When she glanced away to watch a young couple come in from behind him and then back at him, his eyes were still on her, hot and strangely dark.

The hotel was nice. Plush carpet, neutral beige walls, and a perky receptionist with long, softly-curling blonde hair pulled into a ponytail.

Derek glanced at Chloe. "We've got a reservation under Souza," he offered and the sound of his voice—akin to rumbling thunder—sent a lance of nerves through her, and beneath it, desire. Because maybe things could work. Maybe it wouldn't be horrible.

"Of course. Give me just a moment, please."

Chloe couldn't find it in her to speak, her nerves robbing her of her voice as she stood there, flexing her toes anxiously. She couldn't stop herself from looking over at Derek continuously, examining her soul-mate.

He looked the same as he had for years—her friends' brother with a sour disposition, rough around the edges but once you got to know him, he wasn't that bad.

He wasn't some monster, she knew that, but she couldn't be but be apprehensive of him, of tonight, of this whole thing.

She wasn't sure what he was expecting of her and that made her nervous. Maybe it just her anxiety talking, making a mountain out of a mole hill. Not that losing her virginity was a mole hill in any way, shape, or form, but she knew if she kept focusing on the details of tonight she'd probably have a panic attack.

Inhaling until her lungs threatened to burst, she slowly exhaled, feeling her heart beating in her chest solidly, her blood whooshing in her ears. Instead of looking at Derek, she examined her nails, the slight tremor of her fingers, the chipped, peeling manicure that she'd been putting off re-doing.

Amber the receptionist's typing felt exceptionally loud in the silence, the clacking of the keyboard a staccato to Chloe's breathing.

Derek's arm brushed hers as he stood, shifting his weight, and she wondered what she would do if he tried to catch her hold, fold their fingers together. Probably pretend like nothing was going on. He wasn't the type for random displays of affections, that much she knew.

"Okay," Amber said finally, looking up from her screen, "we've got you booked in room two-zero-three." She turned, opened a door on the wall of locked cubicles behind her, and produced a little key card, handing it to Derek.

"You should be all set but don't be scared to call the front desk if you need anything. Have a nice stay." She smiled pleasantly.

Chloe felt herself blush all the way to her roots as she hurried after Derek, who'd taken off towards the elevator. When she peered up at him, she was surprised to find his face spotted with high color, a flush that ran down his throat and pinkened the tips of his ears.

He didn't say a word until the elevator doors closed behind them.

His voice was low and quiet, tight. His hands were balled at his sides, making his biceps bulge. She pretended her stomach didn't flip over at his proximity, so close she could smell his body wash, trying to convince herself that something as simple as a guy's soap wasn't hot. It wasn't working.

"I don't want to hurt you. I know" —he stopped, inhaling sharply before he exhaled slowly, shoulders drooping— "this isn't something either of us wanted but I want it to be good." He cleared his throat, rubbed his jaw nervously as he worked it in a circle. "Good for you, I mean. I know it's supposed to hurt but that's not—I don't want it to be awful."

She chewed her lip, picking the skin with her teeth nervously, before she replied. "I know, but I've never done it." She watched his face, waiting for the minute it sank in. his breath hitched the minute the dots connected, and he swallowed hard.

"Neither have I but it's not like porn doesn't exist. Or health class." He shrugged.

She didn't—couldn't say anything, simply stood there, her feet rooted to the sticky floor, squeezing her toes rhythmically inside her sneakers. So he was a virgin too. And he watched porn. Okay, that made her feel a little better.

The soft classical music calmed her down a little bit, made her stomach quit knotting up, as she focused on that and not his scent. The music cut off when the door opened, and he walked out briskly, shooting her a strange, almost soft look when she hesitated.

She swallowed and followed him, almost running to catch up to him. She desperately tried to convince herself it was going to be okay as her legs felt like gelatin and her heart was hammering so hard it hurt.

It had to be okay.

He stopped in front of the unassuming door and swiped the keycard, making the light indicator turn green, and pushed open the door.