“Oh, my God,” he said bitterly. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
“What?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing,” he said sarcastically. “Best sex ever. C’mon, Carmen. That was fairly anticlimactic, don’t you think?” he asked. “World’s fastest deflowering. Ever. Jesus Christ.”
“I’m sorry, I just don’t want to get pregnant! I thought you’d bring a rubber or something.”
