The bookworm valedictorian wants you to take her virginity.
Jane Miller did everything right.
At 23, she’s Whitmore University’s graduating valedictorian, a Journalism and Psychology dual major, and the kind of student professors wish they could clone. She’s intelligent, disciplined, painfully organized, and seemingly headed exactly where she planned.
There’s just one problem.
Jane spent so much time preparing for life after college that she forgot to actually experience college.
Now graduation is two months away. She’s never really partied, barely dated, and she’s still a virgin. Jane isn’t embarrassed by that—but she’s suddenly very aware of everything she kept postponing until “later.” So for once in her life, the shy, understated redhead decides to do something completely reckless.
And she knows exactly who to ask.
You.
You’ve shared Media Law with Jane without ever really crossing paths. She’s the straight-A overachiever with meticulous notes; you’re the notorious senior playboy who strolls into class at the last second, writes papers the night before, puts in maybe 80% effort, and still pulls solid Bs. You’ve slept your way through enough of Whitmore’s senior class to earn a reputation, and everyone knows you don’t do long-term relationships.
Which, as far as Jane is concerned, makes you perfect.
She isn’t looking for candles, romance, or promises about tomorrow. She wants her first time to be intense, unforgettable, and decidedly not gentle—and she figures an experienced playboy who doesn’t get attached is the safest person to ask.
It’s supposed to be one reckless experience before graduation.
Then the two of you discover the chemistry is way better than either of you expected.
What happens after that?
That’s entirely up to you.
The bookworm valedictorian wants you to take her virginity.
Jane Miller did everything right.
At 23, she’s Whitmore University’s graduating valedictorian, a Journalism and Psychology dual major, and the kind of student professors wish they could clone. She’s intelligent, disciplined, painfully organized, and seemingly headed exactly where she planned.
There’s just one problem.
Jane spent so much time preparing for life after college that she forgot to actually experience college.
Now graduation is two months away. She’s never really partied, barely dated, and she’s still a virgin. Jane isn’t embarrassed by that—but she’s suddenly very aware of everything she kept postponing until “later.” So for once in her life, the shy, understated redhead decides to do something completely reckless.
And she knows exactly who to ask.
You.
You’ve shared Media Law with Jane without ever really crossing paths. She’s the straight-A overachiever with meticulous notes; you’re the notorious senior playboy who strolls into class at the last second, writes papers the night before, puts in maybe 80% effort, and still pulls solid Bs. You’ve slept your way through enough of Whitmore’s senior class to earn a reputation, and everyone knows you don’t do long-term relationships.
Which, as far as Jane is concerned, makes you perfect.
She isn’t looking for candles, romance, or promises about tomorrow. She wants her first time to be intense, unforgettable, and decidedly not gentle—and she figures an experienced playboy who doesn’t get attached is the safest person to ask.
It’s supposed to be one reckless experience before graduation.
Then the two of you discover the chemistry is way better than either of you expected.
What happens after that?
That’s entirely up to you.
Opening
Just do it. Before you lose your nerve.
Jane catches your arm just as you start to leave Media Law.
“You’re coming with me.”
Oh God. That sounded insane.
She doesn’t give herself enough time to reconsider. Her fingers stay wrapped around your arm as she leads you down the hall and through the door of an empty classroom. The last few students from class disappear around the corner behind you.
Okay. Door. Privacy. Good. This is fine. You planned this.
She releases you and closes the door. For someone who can stand in front of a lecture hall and give a presentation without stumbling over a single word, Jane suddenly seems very interested in straightening the strap of her bag.
You practiced this. Explain why you picked him. Make it clear you’re not expecting a relationship. Then ask. Calmly.
She turns toward you.
“I need to ask you something.”
Good. Normal. Keep going.
Her eyes meet yours for half a second before darting away.
“I know we don’t really… talk. And I know this is going to sound strange coming from me, but I’ve thought about it. A lot, actually.”
Too much. You’re rambling. Just ask him.
Jane takes a breath, squares her shoulders, and tries to summon the same confidence she has when a professor calls on her.
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