We went all the way up to my room first to leave the bowl and then we went back down to the library.

"Why are we at the library?" I asked while he grabbed my hand, locking our fingers together.

"So we're not left alone, brooding in our pathetic thoughts," he mumbled, looking through the books.

"Are you looking for a specific book?" I asked when it seemed like he was.

"Yeah. Give me a minute, I'll come back with it," he said before leaving my hand and heading to a different aisle.

I stood there and looked around and then just waited. "What's taking him so long?" I asked myself before I left the aisle and started looking around the library for him. I went upstairs because that's where he normally goes in the library but he wasn't there either. I came back downstairs, looking left and right. I was about to walk to the left side where I hadn't checked yet but then a hand clamped down on my arm. I spun around and found his grinning face.

"I found you," he smiled.

"You found me," I said absentmindedly.

"Here."

I looked down at the book as he placed it in my hand. "Ugly Love?" I asked, staring at the blue cover.

"I read a little bit, it's like the books you read. I thought you'd like it."

I looked back at him, trying not to smile.

"What?" he asked.

"I have this. I've read it hundreds of times. It's like the books I read, so of course, I've read it," I chuckled, handing it back to him. "I have a copy in my room. But you can read it."

"I wanted to pick a good book for you, it's not my fault you've read every romance novel there is," he scoffed.

I linked my arm with his and pulled both of us to the romance aisle. "Here. Why don't you pick me one and I'll pick you one? You can always just check if I've read it or not before taking it out, hmm?"

He nodded. I looked at the left side and he looked at the right before we switched. I grabbed the stool, reaching up and grabbing the copy of Sweet Filthy Boy.

It's one of my favorites. It has the perfect plot. Two strangers meet in Vegas, one-night stand, but they catch feelings, and then she follows him to Paris where he lives and they get their happily ever after. After facing problems, of course.

I got down and walked over to him. "Here. You might like it."

He looked at me and then at the cover of the book. He read the back and then nodded. "It seems like a sweet romance."

I nodded, "It is. But it's steamier than you'd think."

He arched a brow at me.

"They have a lot of sex."

He seemed even more amused. "And you liked that?"

I scoffed, "It's a book with a couple. Of course, they have sex."

"So, every couple has sex then?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "In books, yes."

"And what about in real life? People that are together don't have sex?" he asked and then resumed finding me something to read.

"After a certain time period, of course, they do. Haven't you?"

He glanced at me and then back to the shelf.

"Are you a virgin?" I asked, genuinely curious now.

"No, but I don't remember it," he said, handing me a copy of The Cruel Prince.

I've read this too but for his sake, I'm going to act like I haven't. It's been a while since I read it anyway, no harm in reading it again. "What do you mean you don't remember? How can you not remember? The first time is something everyone remembers no matter how good or bad it is."

We both sat on the floor, leaning against opposite shelves so we were facing each other.

"I was drunk. She wanted to do it. So we did it," he shrugged, both of us flipping to the last page.

It's something I learned we both do. Read the last page first and if we don't like the ending, we put the book back and choose something else. We both hate not knowing the ending. And we hate reading it if it's sad.

"You did it just because she wanted to? Didn't you?"

"I didn't really care. She was desperate to lose her virginity, I didn't really care for mine."

I blinked, staring at the page but not really reading or comprehending what it said.

"What about you?"

"Huh?" I looked up at him.

"You've done it, haven't you?"

"Yeah," I answered. "It was good."

"It was your first time but was it his?"

I shook my head. "Maybe that's why he knew what to do."

He rolled his eyes, "Maybe it's a bad idea to talk about our sex lives with each other."

I chuckled, turning to the first page of the book and starting to read.

And halfway through, he opened his mouth again. "Your first time was seriously good? Isn't it not for most people?"

I looked up at him, analyzing him. "Wasn't it for you? It's mostly great for the guy, not saying it has to be. You didn't like it?"

"It was fine," he shrugged.

I watched him for another minute. "Oh," I realized. "You didn't finish, did you? But she did. That's pretty rare, isn't it?"

"She didn't know anything," he scoffed.

"And you knew everything, didn't you? You never know, maybe she faked it. Most girls do for their first."

"Really?"

I nodded.

"Did you?" He narrowed his eyes at me.

"Nope. I didn't have to," I grinned.

He rolled his eyes again, his face forming into one of disapproval.

"It's not my fault he was good in bed," I scoffed. "Don't come at me because my first time was better than yours," I smirked.

"Maybe my first time wasn't as good as yours, but the times after that most certainly were," he bragged.

"I'm sure," I nodded, going back to the book.

"It's always better after the first, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know," I retorted, turning the page.

"What?" he asked. "You've only done it once?"

"No, I've only done it with one person. It was the same every time," I shrugged.

You would think it would be awkward or uncomfortable talking to the guy I'm with about my sex life before him. But we're friends too, so weirdly enough, it's not.

"So... you've only done one thing? Over and over again?"

I nodded, not lifting my eyes to his. The book is actually interesting. But so is this conversation.

"And you're telling me you finished each time? Bullshit," he scoffed.

I blinked in confusion, looking at him. "If I liked what he did, why wouldn't I finish?"

"Maybe you did for a time, but you definitely got bored of it and started faking it after a point of time." It's really hard not to think because I know if I think of my answer, he'll read it. "There's no way you didn't. I just think you wouldn't be happy doing the same thing again and again, am I wrong?"

"I thought we're here to read."

He smirked, "I got your answer."

"I didn't say or think about it," I scoffed.

"You don't need to. I can read your face. You definitely started hating it towards the end."

"I didn't hate it, okay? It was just... I don't know, a little—"

"Boring?" He finished the sentence for me, looking at me knowingly. "Yeah, it would be if it's always the same. Why didn't you tell him that?"

"Cause it's weird. And he would undoubtedly think I was too much to handle and satisfy."

"No, he just didn't know how to satisfy you, that's it. No one's ever really too much to satisfy, you know. Some people know how to do it and some people don't."

"I really think we should end this conversation. Right here," I nodded.

"Why? I mean, I know it's cause you're getting embarrassed but still, why?" I looked at him blankly in response. He closed the book and scooted closer to me. He grabbed my legs, unfolding them and pulling me closer until my legs rested around his waist and our lips were only inches away. "You don't have to get embarrassed. Your ex-boyfriend sounds like a tool who thought he was good in bed but really wasn't. He's the one who should be embarrassed."

"He was a tool who thought he was good in bed but really wasn't," I scoffed, shaking my head and resisting an eye roll.

"I'm not."

I lifted my brows at him out of curiosity.

"You're not a tool," I nodded in agreement. "And you're not my boyfriend."

He pouted, pulling away a little. "Yes, I am."

"No. I don't remember you asking," I smirked.

He sighed, somewhat in relief, and then leaned back in. "I'm your boyfriend."

"Not until you ask nicely."

"I don't like to beg. Say yes."

I shook my head, smiling.

"Say yes."

I chuckled, shaking my head again.

"Say it." He leaned in even closer, his lips nearly brushing against mine.

"I won't say it," I mumbled.

He sighed, putting his forehead on my shoulder.

I was smiling to myself until I felt him kissing my neck. I started holding my breath.

He kissed harder and I grabbed his shoulders, pushing him off.

"Say—"

"Yes," I nodded frantically.

He grinned.

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