Santa Took My Virginity – Part 5

Everyone in this story is 18+

I hope you all had a wonderful New year's celebration! 

I clutched the bottle of wine as I walked down the dimly lit street, the cold nipping at my cheeks. My parents wouldn’t even notice it was missing—there were so many bottles of wine left over from Christmas that they’d probably thank me for lightening the load. Not that I planned to drink much. One glass, maybe two, just enough to loosen up.

I wasn’t even sure why I was going. Most of my closest friends were out of town, spending the holiday break in cabins with their families, doing wholesome stuff like skiing or roasting marshmallows by a fire. Me? I was walking to a neighborhood party by myself, trying not to overthink every step.

But Ezra’s going to be there.

That thought had been enough to push me out the door. Ezra, the party boy. He wasn’t just the life of the party; he was the oxygen that kept it going. Sure, he might not be the star of the swim team, but if there was an award for commanding a crowd, Ezra would take home the gold every time.

The music hit me before I even saw the house—a muffled bass thumping through the crisp winter air. The front yard was littered with bikes, jackets, and a handful of kids already starting to spill out the door, laughing too loud and stumbling a little too much.

I hesitated for a second at the edge of the driveway, clutching the wine bottle like a lifeline. My stomach was twisting in that nervous-excited way it always did when I thought about Ezra.

What would I even say to him?

“Hey, nice beauty mark. By the way, thanks for wrecking me as Santa. Wanna do it again?”

Yeah, no. That was insane.

But still, I’d come this far. If there was ever a chance to figure out what was really going on, it was tonight.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed through the crowd and stepped inside. The house was packed, the heat and noise hitting me like a wave. Kids were crammed into every corner, red cups in hand, shouting over the music as they tried to have conversations. Someone had strung up cheap Christmas lights, and the whole place reeked of beer and sweat.

And then I saw him.

Ezra was in the middle of the living room, leaning against the back of a couch like he owned it. His messy hair and crooked grin made my stomach flip, and the way he was laughing, so effortless and magnetic, had everyone around him eating out of the palm of his hand.

My heart sped up.

This was it. Tonight, I’d finally figure out if Ezra really was “Santa.”

I just had to find the right moment.

---

The music thumped through the room, and I was nursing my second glass of wine of the night when Ezra appeared beside me. His messy hair, which reflected the light, and his charming but slightly crooked grin made my stomach do that stupid flip it always did when he was around.

Ezra placed a hand on my shoulder as he leaned in, his grip firm but casual, and I couldn’t tell if it was just friendly or something more. “Didn’t think you were the party type, Hayes,” he said, leaning in close enough for me to catch the faint scent of soap and whatever cheap beer he’d been drinking.

My breath hitched—that soap. It was faint, but somewhat familiar. Could it be the same clean, subtle scent I remembered from “Santa”?

“Just trying something new, I guess. Besides, didn’t think you even noticed me,” I shot back, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them. Immediately, I regretted how lame it sounded.

He smirked. “I like trying new things too,” he said, then added with a grin, “And I notice more than you think.” His hand lingered on my arm for just a second too long before he took a step back, his eyes scanning the room like he owned the place. “You been having fun tonight?”

I shrugged, trying not to read too much into his tone. “Yeah, it’s been… interesting.”

“Interesting, huh?” He leaned closer again, his voice dropping slightly. “Well, if you’re looking for more interesting, let me know.”

My cheeks burned, and my brain short-circuited. The way he said it—it was just playful enough to pass as casual, but there was something in his tone, something that felt deliberate. I thought back to the encounter with “Santa,” the way he’d sounded, the way he’d felt. Could it really be Ezra? It had to?

---

The party had picked up even more, the music thumping louder and the house feeling hotter and more crowded with every passing minute. I was still lingering by the edge of the room, sipping on the wine I’d swiped from home.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t tried to enjoy myself. I’d had a couple of conversations—small talk that went nowhere—but I couldn’t shake the feeling of not belonging. Ezra hadn’t approached me again, and I was too nervous to push myself into his orbit.

I kept glancing around, hoping to catch sight of him, but he was nowhere to be found.

Still, something kept me from heading for the door. Maybe I wasn’t ready to admit defeat yet.

I wandered down the hallway toward the bathroom, hoping for a quick escape from the noise and the crowd. As I turned the corner, I spotted him.

Ezra was leaning casually against the doorframe of one of the bedrooms, his arm draped around a girl. She was giggling, looking up at him with flushed cheeks, and he was grinning down at her, that cocky, playful smile that made my chest tighten.

When he saw me, he raised a hand lazily. “Yo, Hayes,” he said, his voice light. “Just borrowing the bedroom for a bit.”

I blinked, trying to keep my face neutral. “Sure, it’s not my house. Do as you please.”

He smirked, pushing open the door with his shoulder and pulling the girl inside with him. “Either way, appreciate it.”

The door clicked shut, but it wasn’t thick enough to block out the muffled sounds of laughter and movement. Then came the sound of a sharp smack, followed by her giggles, and my stomach twisted.

I turned away, heat rising to my face.

Who was I trying to fool? Ezra’s body count is legendary, I reminded myself bitterly as I made my way back down the hallway. Everyone knew it. He was the guy who could have anyone, anytime, anywhere. There were even whispers about a few guys in the mix—not that he’d ever confirmed or denied it.

And now, all I could think was: I was probably just another notch in his belt.

The thought sank in my chest, heavy and unwelcome.

I grabbed my half-empty wine bottle from the counter and made my way to the front door. No one noticed as I slipped outside into the cold night, the music fading behind me.

The walk home was short—just a few blocks—but it felt longer with every step. The streetlights cast long shadows across the empty sidewalks, and the wine bottle felt heavier in my hand than it should have.

When I got home, I set the bottle on the counter. Half-full. Like me.

I snorted bitterly, shaking my head. “I’m pathetic,” I muttered, heading to my room.

I flopped down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. The wine hadn’t dulled the ache in my chest or the twist in my stomach.

That crowd isn’t my scene. I’m too fucking average and invisible for them.

I closed my eyes, my thoughts still swirling with images of Ezra. His smile. His laugh. The beauty mark. It had to be him. And even though it shouldn’t really hurt that I was just another conquest for him… it fucking did.