As the bard said: never was there virgin got till virginity was first lost

"I'm just assuming you did based on how much you talk about your dick," you say, "but when did you lose your virginity?"

"I guess... depending on people's technical definitions, winter break our Freshman year?" he says, and this startles you so much your mouth actually falls open.

"What?" you demand. "Are you serious? You really did? I thought you were going to say, last summer or something. How did I not know about this?"

Scott shrugs. "Dunno. I guess we tend not to get into stuff like that?"

You mull that over for a second, still recovering from your surprise. "What did you mean, depending on technical definitions?"

"Oh. I guess, just some people's definitions of what counts as sex or virginity seem to vary?" He takes another sip of his drink.

"Well. Did your penis touch another person and did you consider your v-card punched afterward?" You prompt him.

"Yeah," he says, laughing.

"Then it counts."

"Good to know." Scott raises his cup to you in a mock toast and finishes it off, then refills it.

"I don't suppose you feel like spilling who the hell your special somebody was," you say, and he gives you a humorous look that you take to mean you're going to have to work harder than that.

"I do not," he tells you, smiling when you react to this with an exaggerated sigh of disappointment to which you are absolutely not entitled.

"I had no idea this whole time," you muse aloud while he tops off his drink from the pitcher. "Since you don't feel confessional right now... I'm just buzzy enough to tell you this without dying of embarrassment," you say, and Scott sits up a little straighter and looks at you with apparent interest. "I had the biggest fucking crush on you that first couple months of homeroom."

He laughs. "Liar. I would have noticed."

"I mean, by all rights you should have noticed," you tell him, giggling at the ridiculous memory of swooning fifteen year old you. "You were probably distracted by your mystery lover. Because I mean, this was a huge fucking crush. Like, Oh hi Scott, here's this closet in the home-ec room, and oh, my, here's little old me, what a coincidence that I happen to be hopelessly in love with you in a nominally private place."

Scott wrinkles his nose at you. "I still think it's at least fifty-fifty you're bullshitting trying to trick me into a reaction."

"Don't act like having a thing for you was ridiculous. You've seen yourself." You grin. "I only ever got ignored by popular people. I was shocked you even wanted to talk to me. The luck of it! I had this whole rom-com fantasy going for a hot second there."

He shakes his head, laughing a little. "Of course I wanted to talk to you. You're cute. And I could tell how smart you were. Lots smarter than me, anyway. I was the one who got lucky there." He shrugs. "Still am lucky."

"You're so full of shit," you say, but it makes you smile anyway to hear it. "Thanks."

"So this supposed huge crush of yours is... you talk about it like it's strictly past tense. So what happened there?"

"I got to know you?" you tease, to cover the fact that this question just made you feel a little flushed, or maybe it's just the booze... anyway, when he puts on a feigned hurt-face you drop the offensive and retract the gag. "Obviously I'm kidding. I guess I figured out I wasn't your type, and by then I wanted to be your friend more than I wanted to be your girlfriend, anyway."

There's a short pause. "What made you decide you weren't my type, out of curiosity?"

You consider and realize you aren't entirely sure how you knew that. "If I was, wouldn't you have done something about it at the time?" you ask after thinking it over.

"Huh. Good point," he says, then pours each of you a little more and moves briskly on. "Truth or dare?"