Last year

"So, what does this Paul guy do? Has he got a job?"

I rolled my eyes, looking at my dad's face on the screen of my laptop. "He graduated in June, Dad. It's not that easy."

"It's not, Sky, but if he's wasting his time... Besides, who are his parents? They support him financially, don't they? What does his father do? I don't remember you telling me."

"For God's sake, Luke!" My mom stood behind my father with her hands on her hips. "Our girl has finally found a boy she likes, what's with the third degree?"

"Okay." My dad raised his hands in surrender. "I just want to make sure she's not into some guy without prospects. That leads nowhere."

"Dad, Paul is as ambitious as they get. His father has a business, a factory in a town close to ours, and believe me, money isn't an issue in their family. I'm sure it isn't long before he finds a job."

I didn't get why it was so important. Paul was twenty-two; he had plenty of time to figure things out. He could've still been studying if he wanted to.

We spent the next ten minutes talking about things at home and my parents' jobs, and I was thankful the interrogation was over.

My dad adored me. I was his little girl, his only child. The problem that came with it was that nothing and no one was ever good enough for me.

That was how I ended up going to France to study business. The degrees were more expensive back home, and the only college I could afford to go to was far from the best one. Although my mom was a college professor, even she admitted I'd be better off studying abroad, expenses, and all.

For as long as I could remember, my parents had been preparing me for the kind of life they didn't get a chance to live, married while still in college with a baby in tow, juggling classes and part-time jobs. French lessons, extracurricular activities— everything available in our town was tried out on me.

And, although I loved French and was good at it, none of the other things my parents made me do truly made me passionate, except for photography and dances, the only two hobbies chosen by me, and something I'd always known I wouldn't be doing for a living if my parents had a say in it.

I'd always been afraid to disappoint them. I knew what they did for me was a big deal. Maybe that was the reason why I turned down boys back at home when my dad said he didn't like them for me. Things changed in France.

Paul and I met at a party two months ago. We started talking, and soon it became clear we had many things in common. We grew up in neighboring towns; our families sent us away to study.

Paul was good-looking and self-confident, always surrounded by friends. When he asked me out, I didn't doubt much. Bottom line— he was the kind of guy my dad would approve of.

I closed my laptop and glanced at the clock— three hours until my date with Paul.

"Sky, are you in there?" Gia, one of my roommates, knocked on my door. A couple of seconds later, she stormed into my room and plopped down on my bed.

Ava, another girl I shared the apartment with, followed her lead.

Now, the two of them were looking at me.

"So, you're doing it tonight?" Gia bit her lip, grinning.

"Yeah." I returned her smile.

"Aren't you nervous?" This time, the question came from Ava. "You don't have to do it if you're not sure, you know."

"There she goes again." Gia rolled her eyes. "Ava, baby, Sky's nineteen. It's not like she's still in high school. Our Sky has landed a hot guy; she deserves some fun."

The shy Ava snorted, surprising us both.

"Did that sound come from your mouth?" Gia narrowed her eyes, making me giggle and making Ava blush.

"Gia, stop it!" I cut in. "Ava, I'm sure. We've been together for two months; I'm nineteen. I don't want to hold on to my V-card as if it was some treasure. Besides, everyone does it. Gia does it with Dennis, the rest of our friends do—"

"That's not why you should, Sky. The timing's never the same for everyone."

"Ava, what the hell?" Gia gasped at her. "She's been thinking about it for weeks, and here you go and try to make her change her mind?"

"I'm not, Gia. It's just that it's important for us, girls. I'd love to remember my first time without regrets."

"Who said she was gonna regret it? Girl, if you lifted that pretty head of yours off those books and looked around, you could've found yourself a real guy instead of fantasizing about some nonexistent Prince Charming. Paul is hot; I'm sure he won't disappoint Sky."

"Yeah, hot." Ava stared at her nicely manicured nails. "There are more qualities in a guy, Gia. You haven't been going out with Dennis for so long just because he's hot, have you?"

"Of course not, but being hot helps in some departments. You know what I mean." Gia winked at me.

"Where's he taking you?" asked Ava.

"I have no idea. I'm going to dress up just in case we go somewhere nice. I hope we go to dinner first, or dancing. Or maybe for a walk close to the sea."

"I'm sure he'll make it special." Gia clapped her hands. "Let's doll you up!"

It took more than an hour, my best clothes, Gia's make up skills, and Ava's manicure knowledge to get me ready for The Date. Paul would pick me up in five minutes, and I was barely able to keep my enthusiasm in check.

I got a text from Paul a minute later.

"Is he downstairs?" Gia asked, handing me my purse.

"No, he's asking me to go to his place."

Ava crossed her arms in front of her chest. "But he knows what you're gonna do, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, Ava, it's not a big deal. It's a five minutes' walk anyway."

I said my goodbyes and thanks to the girls ignoring Ava's glare. She was only eighteen, straight out of high school and studying French abroad — the famous gap year. And although she was my friend and a really nice girl, today she showed me her bitchy side I didn't even know existed.

I knocked on Paul's door fifteen minutes later.

What I saw was unexpected. I knew that lit candles and rose petals would be overkill, but a bunch of Paul's friends drinking beer and playing on the console didn't scream romantic either. I hoped we'd go somewhere else.

"Hey." Paul kissed my cheek. "Guys, we'll be in my room."

I took Paul's hand and followed him inside.

"I'll wait for you while you get changed," I said once the door to his bedroom closed.

"What? Why?" Paul looked at his sweats and the t-shirt, puzzled.

"I thought we'd go out." I dropped my purse on the chair and sat on the edge of the bed.

"But we were going to... You haven't changed your mind, have you?" Paul raised his eyebrows.

"No, no, of course not," I rushed to say. "It's just that I thought we'd be alone, you know. The guys are there—"

"Relax." Paul laughed. "It's nothing they haven't heard before. Nobody cares."

I did care. After all, I was going to give him a part of me that nobody else had. Although we did things, we'd never got to the stage of actually being together naked in the same bed. Stupidly, I thought he'd be considerate enough to think about me and make it easier, or at least ask his friends to leave.

Then, I scolded myself for being stupid. It wasn't one of Ava's books. It was a real first time with a real guy. All that romance and hearts and flowers were invented by girls to make other girls swoon. No guy Paul's age would do it. Guys were simple; they didn't care about those things the way we did.

"So?" Paul asked impatiently.

"Let's do it." I turned around to face him, a fake smile plastered on my face.

His lips were on mine in what seemed like a second, kissing me roughly. I placed my hands up on the back of his neck, mentally ordering myself to relax and enjoy it. Paul lifted my dress and pulled it over my head before throwing it to the floor. His clothes were next.

I had this silly fantasy of a guy slowly undressing me, kissing every inch of skin he uncovered—stupid books and movies or whoever gave me that idea.

Paul's lips moved to my neck. Usually, I enjoyed being kissed there. Now, I couldn't feel anything. My brain fixated on the noise of the guys' laughter and the sounds of whatever game they were playing. I barely registered my bra being unclasped and thrown to the same pile where mine and Paul's clothes were. My panties followed.

I almost considered stopping him and saying I didn't feel like doing it anymore. Almost. But Paul was already on top of me, kissing my mouth again.

I closed my eyes, and then almost cried out because of the sharp pain that came all too suddenly. I wished he'd warned me. I knew it would hurt; I just didn't know it would hurt so much and be so...bad.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, but Paul didn't notice with his face buried in my neck. Everything was too much: his weight on top of me, robbing me of air, the ache, and throbbing between my legs. I was paralyzed. I couldn't move, not even if I wanted to, and my ability to speak was gone.

He picked up the pace, thrusting into me faster and faster, while my only thought was about him stopping whatever he was doing. I wished he got what he wanted and stopped. Relief flooded me when I realized it was done.

Paul disappeared into the bathroom and fell on the bed next to me when he was back, looking all satisfied.

"You're not gonna ask me how it was?"

I thought I'd heard him wrong. "What?"

"Come here." He pulled me to him and kissed my cheek. "Next time you could try some stuff, you know, for the whole thing not to be so rigid. But don't worry, you'll figure it out. For somebody who's never done it, it wasn't that bad. I mean, it could be much better, but it could be worse, right? Oh, and you don't have to stop yourself from making noise. It turns us on when the girl shows how much she enjoys it."

"Paul." One of the guys said, knocking on the door. "It's about to start."

"Look, I'm sorry, but we're going to watch the match with the guys. France is playing. I'd take you home, but you heard him. It's starting now." Paul stood up and pulled on his pants and the t-shirt.

I picked up my discarded underwear and the now wrinkled dress and started to put them on quickly, seeing Paul's impatience to join his buddies.

"Oh, and Sky." My boyfriend paused at the door. "When you're out, could you throw those away?" He pointed to the sheets on his bed. "I'd rather not sleep in that. Gross, right?"

Going through the living room full of college guys was even worse than a walk of shame would be. I tried to hold my head high and seem nonchalant as I made my way to the front door with the folded bedding in my hands. I said goodbye, but nobody heard it. Maybe it was for the better.

I dumped the blood-stained sheets in the trash and picked up the pace to get to our place as soon as I could. The city wasn't dangerous, but a girl walking in a tight dress and heels on a Friday night could call unnecessary attention. I didn't want to listen to nasty comments directed my way.

Luckily, when I got to my apartment, Gia wasn't in. I didn't have it in me to fake happiness and tell her I was okay.

Ava heard me open the door, though, and came out of her room with a book in her hand.

"Sky?" she asked, obviously surprised.

And there, in front of the girl who believed in fairy tales and happily ever after, I couldn't hold it in. I sobbed, and Ava wrapped her arms around me, rubbing my back.

"Shh, don't cry. It's going to be okay."

"Don't—"

"I won't tell anybody, Sky." Ava sighed. "But I wish you loved yourself just a little."

August

"Are you sure it's here?"

My eyes took in the modern residential building, which was very, very far from what I expected to see when I'd given the taxi driver the address.

"There's only one street with this name," the man said, failing to mask his impatience. Not wanting to waste more of his time, I paid him and got out of the car.

In less than two minutes, I was standing in front of the building with two suitcases and not a freaking clue about how to get inside.

Paul got a job in Paris after Christmas, and we'd been doing the long-distance thing since then.

I used all my charm to fish Paul's Parisian address from one of his best friends, but I wanted to surprise my boyfriend. Calling him wasn't an option. Instead of pressing the button on the intercom, I was sweating under the merciless August sun hoping for a miracle — someone exiting the building and opening the damn door.

My prayers were answered when a teenage boy walked out. He was too busy trying not to lose hold on the leash of his oversized dog to even notice I was there, which gave me a perfect chance to slip into the cool foyer dragging my heavy suitcases along.

I endured hours of the train journey in the most uncomfortable dress wanting to look pretty for Paul. After hours of traveling in the hottest weather I remembered, I was nothing but a sweaty mess. My makeup was ruined for sure, and my hair I took so long to straighten clung to my damp neck.

Faking the confidence I didn't feel, I exited the elevator on Paul's floor and immediately spotted the apartment.

I didn't even have a chance to knock, because as soon as I raised my hand, the door burst open and Paul stepped out. When he spotted me, his jaw dropped to the floor.

"Sky?" He stared at me.

"Surprise!" I grinned from ear to ear at my boyfriend, who continued standing in the doorway of his still open apartment, saying absolutely nothing.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in.

I frowned at his tone. It was not the reception I wanted, but then again, I must've stunned the hell out of him by showing up unexpectedly.

"Aren't you happy to see me?" I asked, and flinched at how pathetic that sounded even to my own ears.

"I am, but...why didn't you say you were coming? And what are those?" Paul's eyes traveled from me to the suitcases and back.

"I'm staying." I giggled, clapping my hands. "And I have more things coming, but don't worry, I know your place is small, so I rented an apartment for us—"

"You what?!" Paul sounded angry, and I stared at his dark curly hair, his freshly ironed clothes, his hair again, and finally, his eyes, and I didn't like what I saw in them.

I felt stupid for dumping the info on him like that, outside his apartment; besides, my feet in ridiculously high heels were killing me. I decided I'd rather talk while we were sitting on the couch, so I did nothing other than making my way inside his place.

Paul followed me, leaving my suitcases in the foyer.

It took me only a couple of steps to realize the place was huge.

Not a matchbox, not shitty, and definitely not like the one he was talking about.

Something felt off. Too tired to figure out what it was, I lowered myself onto the couch, sighing in relief. My feet throbbed.

I reached down to unfasten my sandals and saw something tucked behind the sofa cushion.

A red freaking bra.

I took it between my two fingers and lifted it to inspect it further. The size was too big to be mine.

I ordered my brain to make up an excuse for the presence of the garment I was holding—a freaking Victoria's Secret red bra.

Then, I saw them.

Photos of a very pretty, red bra wearing type of girl on the walls. Full lips, long lashes, long hair, huge boobs that could easily fill the thing I was holding.

My fingers trembled, and I dropped the piece of lace to the floor.

I got up slowly and circled the couch, inspecting the living room before I invited myself on a tour of the place. It took me two minutes tops to realize it belonged to a girl. There were purses and shoes and perfume bottles. There were clothes. There was a box of condoms on the nightstand.

I looked at Paul, who just stood there, arms crossed, boredom on his face.

"What does it mean?" I whispered.

"You were far, and I had my needs." He shrugged as if the whole thing was nothing, and I wanted to die.

"But you told me you missed me..."

"And I did, but what did you expect? When girls throw themselves at us, it's hard for us guys to say no."

"I transferred to the uni here in Paris, and I rented a place for us." I managed to say.

"Sky, it was your decision, not mine. You still have time to go back. In fact, it'd be better if you did. I actually need to be somewhere, so come on, go, get a taxi and—"

Yesterday on the phone he told me he loved me. He told me he missed me. All the time, each time, he lied. Right to my face. Stupid, stupid, stupid me.

"I can't believe you're doing this to me, Paul. I came here to be with you, and that's how you thank me?"

"Whoa, hold on. I didn't ask you to move to Paris. If I wanted you here, I would've told you."

"You're an asshole," I cried.

Paul said nothing as I grabbed my purse and stormed out of the apartment.

This time, when I dragged my suitcases out of the building of Paul's love nest he shared with another girl, they felt a hundred times heavier.

I wanted to lie down on the sidewalk under the blazing sun, curl up into a tight ball, and cry my shattered heart out.

The only two things that prevented me from doing so were a ridiculously expensive apartment I rented, and everything good my aunt Sam always told me I was.

Even though it was a lie, I clung to the memory of her words on the cab ride to my huge new apartment, where I was planning on breaking down.