“No. No, absolutely—" Ronnie bends over and pukes into the toilet again. “Absolutely not,” he huffs.

I cringe. I hand him another tissue, watching as bile leaks from his mouth and drips onto his chin. “I thought you were all about the ladies,” I say.

“Yeah.” He snorts. “Except this isn’t a lady, and certainly is nothing else but shady—”

“But—”

“But what?”

I sigh. “I’m still a virgin. And also, this guy sees me as a guy. Not a girl. So… I just… I guess I thought it’d be nice to…”

“Look,” Ronnie says through two pained breaths. “I get that you want to lose that V-card, but seriously why—”

“Yeah, dude, I’m nineteen now. It’s fucking ridiculous that—”

“That you’d lose it to a stranger? Yeah. It would be.” He wipes his mouth and meets my gaze. “What if he has herpes? Or like, worse than herpes.”

I shove my hands in my lap and sit cross-legged next to him. The bathroom’s floor is cold, and I doubt it’s been washed as much as it should be, however right now I really don’t care. “I mean, he said he had condoms, so, shouldn’t it be fi—”

Ronnie raises a finger into the air. “Actually, condoms won’t protect you from herpes. So yeah, no.”

I frown. “Dude… What’s with the herpes?” I pause. “…Do you have herpes?”

“No!” he cries, “but… my sex-ed teacher, he fucked up our class with the weirdest pictures.” Ronnie shakes his head and groans. “I swear to god, dude, I’ve seen things. Things that, trust me, you don’t want down there.”

“Okay,” I hook an arm around my neck and avert his gaze. “Okay, fine,” I say. “What about cuddles then? You don’t catch herpes by—”

“Stephen. Why are you so desperate?”

Oh no, I think as I freeze, and tears well up in my eyes.

Oh no.

“M-me?” An awkward laugh escapes past my lips. My voice shakes. “I-I’m not desperate. What are you talking abou—"

“You are,” Ronnie says, his voice suddenly all too serious. “And as your friend, I really think you need to chill, and think this through.”

“But you don’t understand! He thinks I have a penis, Ronnie! I can’t just not—”

“What about when he realizes you don’t?” Ronnie asks me. “What then? Let’s imagine for one second that he’s not a serial killer, and that he’s just a bit strange. He’ll press his lips to yours,” Ronnie leans in until his mouth touches mine. My eyes go wide. I gasp. He pulls away and lingers close to my face. “Like so,” he whispers. “And then you tell him, ‘Hey, I’m actually missing my dick, so help a guy out and assist me while I look for it?’” Ronnie pauses. “See what I mean?” he says, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

My lip twitches. I push him away and wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve. “You reek,” I say, rising to my feet. “And also, it doesn’t matter that much. You’re wrong if you think that—”

Ronnie leans his weight against either of his hands, now pressed flat against the dirty tiles. Head hung low, he averts my gaze. “Do whatever you want,” he mutters. “But if you don’t return to this room, to check in every other hour, I’m calling the cops.”

My hands ball into fists. “You know,” I say, “it’s not because I don’t have dad, that you have to force yourself to try and replace him, because you’ve always had nice a family and felt sorry for me. I’m fine on my own, Ronnie. I don’t need your help.”

I know what I’m saying is wrong.

I know it’s just my insecurities talking.

But I can’t stop.

I turn around.

“Stephen! Wait a minu—”

I slam the bathroom’s door shut.

And I walk to room twenty, alone.