Winning chapter, as voted by the readers, chapter eighty-six!
I hope you enjoy! UNEDITED

I'd been thinking a lot about what Harry had said about sex and if the both of us would ever get round to doing it. I'd have been lying if I said that it had never crossed my mind before. After all, what girl didn't think about the day she decides to lose her virginity? Thinking of a boy was one thing, kissing and hugging another - then there was the sex. Terrifying or exciting? It was different for every person and I was deeply surprised to find that I was completely giddy about the whole thing.

I was excited. Not terrified. And the thought that Harry and I could have been doing it very shortly was what had my heart beating erratically. 

You little slapper, a voice muttered in my head and I couldn't help but let a sly smile slide across my face as I peered down at my question paper. The mathematical equations were blurs on the page and I just couldn't focus properly, especially since the idiot behind me kept kicking the back of my chair.

"Harry," I snapped as I spun round to face him. "Quit it. I am trying extremely hard to show a little interest for this subject that I know will never benefit me entirely in any of my future careers, and yet is seen as a mandatory learning subject for our bright, young minds."

He just looked at me before grinning widely. "Bright, young minds," he echoed with a laugh. "The majority of this generation are numpties, babe."

"Perhaps, though it doesn't hurt to actually try and take in all this wonderful information."

"Hm," he murmured, tapping his pencil to his lips. He absentmindedly chewed on the end, his gaze not once faltering. "Think what else you could be taking in."

It took everything in me not to give him a little slap. Had he forgotten that we were sitting in the middle of a classroom. Yes, everybody was distracted and talking to one another but it wasn't an excuse for him to drop suggestive comments out in the open. 

"Why are you even here today?" I asked, changing the subject yet pondering that exact matter - why had he decided to come into school for the last week? I knew he'd had preferred to be hanging around with the guys and rehearsing before the live shows, so it had left me genuinely surprised when he'd said he was going to come into school for the remaining five days of term. 

He shrugged. "Wanted to see you before I head off. Plus," he leaned forward to whisper to me, "I'm getting a hell of a lot more attention now that the lads and I are through on the show. Honestly, even that crabby old bat of a maths teacher congratulated me this afternoon in the canteen."

I raised a brow. "Impressive. So, you're here for the fame?"

He seemed confused all of a sudden. "I, er... Wait, that's not what I meant. Oh, God I sound like such a snob when you say it like that. I dare say it did sound like I was saying that but I swear to God, Amanda, that I'm here just to feel like I completed school fully and then it's off to London." 

"Ah," I mused, smiling widely at him. "I get you."

And I really meant it.

Harry walked me home which I found incredibly sweet considering that he lived in the opposite direction. He was desperate to spend as much time with me as possible and I was loving it. I wanted to be with him as much as possible before he left and I was going to take every opportunity given.

I turned to face him as we made it to my front steps. "Thank you for walking me home."

"It's all right," he said with a smile. "Anything for my girl."

I flushed, still not one-hundred percent used to all his cheeky and romantic comments. He was a gentleman at heart and I loved him for it. "You're so cheesy at times, Tarzan," I told him.

"Cheesy?" he asked, bewildered. "I require an explanation and a good lot of examples, each with hefty analysis to prove your point."

I just laughed and wrapped my arms around him to squeeze him into a hug. He copied my actions and held me for several minutes, his cheek resting against the top of my head and a sweet tune being hummed. His voice was deep for sixteen, and melodic. I'd nearly fallen asleep when he'd invited me over to meet the other boys, his voice just above a whisper as he's sung to me. It had been beautiful.

"I love you," I told him, pulling back to kiss him on the lips. He wasn't wanting a simple peck on the lips though, he wanted more heat. I let out a surprised squeak as his tongue pushed into my mouth. It was something we'd done before, but I could tell by the way he gripped my hips and kissed me deeply that it was so much more than a goodbye kiss. "Harry," I laughed.

"Yes, beloved?" he cooed before kissing my forehead.

"I'll see you later, jungle man," I told him, gently pushing at his chest.

"You shall indeed," he said before waving me a final goodbye and started on his way back home. I watched him until he disappeared down the hill, blowing him one final kiss before I turned and made my way into the house.

The first thing I noticed was how ridiculously hot I felt. That kiss had stirred something within me, and when my mind whirled back to the previous conversation we'd been having on the phone, did I realise why. I was in the mood. The mood meaning that I was closer and closer to telling Harry to strip and take me.

I groaned and threw my school bag on the couch before following suit, kicking my legs up onto the coffee table. The day had flew by and I still felt exhausted beyond words. Harry had once joked that the reason for my tiredness was me trying to keep up with his eccentric personality. Maybe he was right?

And the weight of a sexual decision, said the voice at the back of my head.

"That's it," I spoke to myself, pulling out my phone to send Harry a text. He was probably still walking home.

Amanda:
So, I've been doing some thinking about your sexual offer, Harry.

That was how I started it; abrupt and straight to the point. It would pique his interest right away, which I knew as soon as I pressed send. When he didn't reply straight away - which surprised me - I continued with:

And the conclusion I've comes to is - well, I have two conclusions, actually.
1: You want to have sex with me because you love me and I love you and we shall participate in coitus until our bodies are a sweaty, writhing mess.
And 2: You want to have sex with me because you are sexually frustrated and want to live up to your old nickname of Tarzan, where a ruthless jungle man penetrates the girl and screams out a Tarzan scream as you release your load.

I laughed to myself as I read it over, the seriousness of the situation vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared.

Amanda:
Which of the two are have you got in your mind when you refer to sex?

In the ten minutes I waited for him to respond, I'd already managed to clean my room - not that it was terribly messy - and make myself two cups of tea. I was surprised at just how late he'd replied, especially since he was the one who had suggested the idea and seemed overly keen.

Harry:
Christ almighty, you should REALLY let me read some of those stories you write in your spare time, Mands. I now know what I can expect.

I just laughed and replied with:

Amanda:
Harry.
No.

Harry:
Hm, the top one. Number one.
I love you and you love me so what could be better than rolling hips together in sweet harmony as I say, "I'm proud to be able to call you mine," huh?
Number one, definitely...
Though, if you were into the sort of thing you described in the second option, I'll call out as much as you'd like me to.

I laughed again, but more in disbelief. Had he seriously just suggested getting animalistic in the bedroom? Though the idea did excite me and stir something within my gut, I knew it wouldn't really be a thing I'd want to do for a first time. Then again, I'd never know until we got round to it.

I was very careful with how I worded every sentence after that. I was aiming for subtle yet straight to the point. The bitter in between point which was a little awkward yet exhilarating at the same time. Harry seemed to have cottoned on and I felt my face flush as he said:

Harry:
...
Amanda?

I replied with:

Amanda:
Yes, Harry?

And then he finally cut to the chase, asked the question I had been dying yet dreading he would ask. Butterflies erupted in my stomach as I read over his message three times.

Harry:
Are you asking me to have sex with you?

Yes and no, I wanted to reply, because it was true. I didn't wan't him to feel obligated because I had asked, I wanted us both to want it. And I knew we did. I thought for a moment about my answer, not wanting to give him a yes or no. It was a choice, after all. I'd always told myself that if my partner was up for it, as would I, and so that's exactly what I told him. It was easier because I knew he felt the same way.

Amanda:
I'm asking you to make a decision.
You said if I was up for it you would be too.
I'm up for it because I don't understand all these people who are like, "once it's gone, it's gone," or "I lost my virginity."

Harry:
*V-card.

I rolled my eyes at his childish correction, but I couldn't stay mad; I found myself grinning wickedly as I sent a slightly agitated:

Amanda:
HARRY!

Harry:
Sorry.

Most girls my age were at that stage in their lives where they were meeting people and getting involved in romantic relationships. I never thought that one of those girls would be me. Never in a million years. I was lucky for more than one reason. One being that my boyfriend was the most genuine guy you'd ever meet; he was sweet and caring and always putting my needs before his own. He was like the walking definition of perfection. And he was all mine. Secondly, he made me feel at home. I was happy with him in every way. We'd never argued, we'd never felt bitterness toward one another and everything felt right.

Apart from one thing, which was of course the fact he was about to embark on a journey of a lifetime. In the short space of time that we'd known each other - hell, even when we hadn't known each other - it was obvious that music was a heavy passion of his. To be able to say I was with him during the biggest opportunity of his life was incredible. Surreal, even.

So, to be sitting and bickering about how we were going to both lose our virginity was the least of my worries.

Harry:
So ... what does this mean?

I answered with a blunt:

Amanda:
It means, you're up for it and so am I.
You'll be off to London for the live shows of The X Factor soon, focusing on your career as a singer.
I say, let's do it.

Going by the speed at which he replied, and the on-and-off typing, his fingers were flying across the keypad. I watched in amusement as he began and then suddenly stopped writing his reply, pondering what his reply was going to be. Part of me expected it to be an excited jumble of words and then the other part of me was hoping for a detail plea.

I guess you could say that his reply was an odd mixture of the two.

Harry:
When?
Where?
How long?
Do you want me to bring some sexy saxophone soundtrack?
Ice-cream?

I burst out laughing as I read his message, and as I tried to type back without making a typo, I couldn't help but wonder what crazy sex like that would be like. Sex was sex but sex with food involved, or toys? It seemed a little too out there for both Harry and I. It was obvious that he was joking, but the images that conjured inside my head alarmed me slightly. Why was I wondering what it would be like? 

Amanda:
Ice-cream?

Harry:
Don't people eat ice-cream and stuff off of each other?

Amanda:
Maybe the second time round they do.

After that, dates and places were set. It was official; both of us were going for it. My place, while the parents were out visiting some friends. For a first time, you kind of wanted to be alone to do it anyway, so I was thankful that they weren't going to be in the house. How awkward would it be if someone walked in? That was one thing that always worried me, someone finding out what we were up to.

Harry had told me that he had butterflies in his stomach thinking about it all. I would have been lying if I said I didn't feel the same way; it was nerve-wracking but thrilling at the same time. It wasn't as if we were underage - Harry was sixteen, and I was too, just but still. It was new for both of us, and new was always scary.

Thinking back to Harry telling me that he was worried he'd disappoint me had me laughing. How could he disappoint me, if I never knew what it was like in the first place? Not that I thought he would be bad in bed, he was probably going to be great - as well as chatty, awkward and his adorable self - but the fact he'd said that had cracked me up a little.

I woke up the next day with nerves so intense my hands had shook for a good hour. Why? I had no idea. Perhaps realising that you were surrendering yourself to someone completely was why I was suddenly feeling jittery? It wasn't the sex so much as the emotions and feelings. This was real, it was happening and it was happening with the boy I loved. I was preparing myself to show him everything, quite literally.

I wondered if he were feeling nervous. Surely not; it was Harry after all. But then I had to remind myself that I now knew the real him, and he was actually an awkward little nervous wreck when he wanted to be. He was probably primping and preening himself right now. And what was I doing? Sitting in my pyjamas with a book and a cup of tea.

What was I doing? My eye twitched.

Part of me was screaming, go get ready, shower, shave, pick out cute underwear, apply minimal yet still effective make-up, while the other part of me was saying, play it cool, boys like cool, seem oblivious and let things take their course.

But I had to shower.

I had to shave (I had to shave everywhere).

I had to feel semi-confident in cute underwear and minimal make-up.

If I didn't get to all those things, I'd feel even more nervous, even more silly.

And so, without any more hesitation, I jumped up and got ready. If ready was the term appropriate for pre-intercourse shenanigans? I'd double checked everything, raced round my room like the Tasmanian Devil to clean anything messy and said an overly cheery, "Bye!" to my parents as they left for the BBQ. My mother had raised a brow before shutting the door, and as soon as I saw them drive away, I messaged Harry to ask when he would be over.

However, he didn't answer by text; fifteen minutes later he arrived at the door with a bar of chocolate in his hand.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," I replied. Giving him a look over, I could tell he had been rushing, from the way his hair was still tousled (well, tousled more so than usual), his jacket was inside out and his laces were poorly tied. I smiled at him, unsure what else to say.

"I, um," he began, holding out the chocolate. "I got you this. They were out of the occasion boxes, so I figured ... you know? Chocolate is chocolate. And what better than Dairy Milk chocolate, right?" He smiled hopefully at me and I could only giggle.

It appeared that he was more in of a mess than I was about the whole thing.

"C'mere," I told him before I hugged him close, the scent of his aftershave, which I realised was applied a lot more than his usual more subtle drop or two, hit my nostrils. I wanted to laugh and cry and make-out with him all at the same time because both of us had tried so hard to look, smell and act normal.

And so far, all he'd done was offer me chocolates.

"I love you," I whispered. When I pulled back, he looked down at me with something I'd never seen in his eyes before; arousal. I guess you could say he almost looked crazed, deprived of sexual activity. Which he was, of course. "Harry, I love chocolate of any kind, you know that. Thanks."

I invited him inside for a cup of tea to begin with, and as the hour dragged on, the closer we got, the kisses were more heated and before I knew it, I was leading him upstairs to my bedroom, both of us giggling at what could all go wrong, how awkward it would be but most importantly, because we loved each other, none of that mattered.

It could all go down hill, and we wouldn't care.

Because after all, what's the worst that could happen?

Thank you for reading! x
Cazza