Is being a virgin at eighteen normal or not?

  I ask myself this question more often than I’d like to admit. At first, it’s out of curiosity, then out of frustration, and eventually, it just becomes a constant companion. But it never stops me from living my life. I don’t feel defective or abnormal, nor do I envy other guys who brag about their "conquests." I’m just different.

  And yet, the question never leaves me—like a persistent fly I can’t swat away, no matter how hard I try. At first, it seems simple and insignificant, but with each passing year, it becomes heavier and more complicated.

  Studying has always been my top priority. I’m fascinated by the idea of achieving success, earning respect. Girls, as I’ve long realized, don’t like that. They prefer those who know how to make an impression. Rebels, defiant and reckless, seem far more interesting to them than someone like me—quiet, buried in books and textbooks.

  And you know what? I’m not bothered by it. Yes, I want a relationship, but I can’t force myself to do something just to blend in. Sleeping with just anyone, just to get rid of the "virgin" label? That seems pointless to me. I seek happiness in books, in being the best at what I do. My world revolves around studying, challenges, and striving for success. Only sometimes, in moments of loneliness, when I sit down with my textbooks, I feel like something is missing—closeness with someone. I try not to dwell on it, convincing myself that I’m fine, that it isn’t that important. But as soon as I’m alone, in the silence of my empty room, the question resurfaces. And I don’t know how to fight it.

  Probably, only a rare few have their first time with someone they truly love, with someone who loves them back. I’m not even expecting something like that, but I still believe there should at least be some connection between people.

  For others, it’s easy—they live in the moment, laughing, dating, as if that’s all that matters. But I feel like the world beyond studying and responsibilities isn’t mine. Girls? They don’t even notice me. The ones I try to talk to often avoid me, with a hint of disdain in their eyes. I’m not the kind of guy who can impress them.

  When I start signing up for dating sites, it feels like a game. Maybe I’m trying to prove to myself that I’m not a complete failure. A few dates, a couple of awkward conversations… But everything feels forced. I sit across from these girls, and no matter how hard I try to feel even the slightest attraction, nothing happens. It all feels shallow, mechanical. There’s no excitement, no thrill I’ve hoped for. I guess I’m looking for something more than just physical attraction. But that always remains out of reach.

  And now—ironically—there’s a girl in my bed. Real, alive, not imaginary. Just not in the way I’ve pictured it, and, to be honest, not someone I would have chosen to be here. More than that, this is the second time in a day that she’s appeared in my room, as if deliberately invading my personal space. Yet somehow, her presence changes the atmosphere.

  Katrin lies beside me, as if she has always been there. I don’t know what to do with this feeling. For a moment, I think I’ve become part of something unusual. But this isn’t an "ideal moment"—it’s a strange tangle of emotions I can’t decipher. All I can do is lie still, as if I’m just a pillow she has happened to rest her hand on. The room carries her scent—sweet and warm, reminiscent of vanilla ice cream. It’s so familiar and pleasant that it leaves me a little dazed.

  "Did you really get the highest score, or did you just fool everyone?" I finally dare to ask while looking at her.

  This question has been tormenting me since the moment we met. I want to see her reaction, to understand how sincere she is. Katrin merely smirks. She lies on top of me as if it’s her rightful place. Her long hair tickles my neck, and her leg, draped over my hips, feels almost weightless. She quietly lifts her head again, and I feel her gaze piercing through me. I’ve tried to gently move her beside me earlier, but she only presses closer, as if she knows I won’t dare to resist.

  "I really am smart. And I passed those tests on my own. It was the easiest thing ever."

  I raise an eyebrow in surprise. The year I’ve spent preparing suddenly feels meaningless. A strange feeling creeps over me. I’ve put in countless hours of studying and revising, and now she’s saying it’s been easier for her than it is for me. I want to believe it’s a lie, but her gaze and confidence make me doubt my own judgment.

  "Are you planning to compete in the Olympiad?"

  "Of course. What about you?" She props herself up slightly. "I bet you’re already deep in preparation, aren’t you? You’re such Nerd."

  There’s no malice in her words, only soft irony. Her eyes sparkle with genuine interest, as if she’s trying to decipher me, like a rare, fascinating specimen.

  It isn’t just a statement; it’s a test. She wants to see my reaction, to hear what I’ll say in return. Her words fuel my desire to prove I’m not like everyone else. I’m not perfect, but I can win. I want to win.

  "I want to beat you."

  She doesn’t react immediately, but then her smile slowly stretches into something playful. Her eyes, narrowing like a cat’s, radiate pure confidence. It feels like she’s already prepared for battle, and I’m just the next challenge on her list. Excitement surges in my chest, coursing through my veins. Every word she speaks is a step toward a great battle, and I’m ready to dive into it headfirst.

  "I won’t be your only competitor. But I like that you see only me as your rival," she says with an easy smirk, as if she’s already won. "So, how about a bet?"

  "I don’t bet. Not with anyone. Not on anything."

  "Oh, come on, at least hear me out."

  Not knowing how to refuse, I sigh, bracing myself for the unknown.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  "Fine," I can’t resist my curiosity. "What have you come up with?"

  Her eyes gleam. Everything becomes clear in an instant. We’re standing on the edge of a game, and I feel it deep in my bones.

  "It’s simple. Whoever scores higher gets to make the loser fulfill one wish."

  She knows exactly what she’s doing, and I realize: this is her game, and I’m just a pawn on her board. But damn, what an enticing game it is. Losing is not an option.

  "Any wish?"

  "Absolutely. And I already know what mine will be."

  "And what is it?" I ask, smiling, though I feel a hint of nervousness inside.

  "Oh, I won’t tell you everything! You’ll find out if you lose," her voice is filled with light teasing, but there’s no malice in it. And I can’t help but smile back.

  "We’ll see who loses."

  After that conversation, unexpectedly, I drift off to sleep.

  When I open my eyes, I realize I’m lying alone. The dark room greets me with its cold air, and I immediately know she’s gone. On the stool beside the bed sits a plate with an omelet and a salad. Everything looks so neat, as if there’s been no rush, no chaos. More than that—there’s a sense of care in it.

  Next to it lies a note:

  "Thanks for yesterday. Get ready to lose!"

  I chuckle, but deep inside, a light unease spreads through me. There’s no signature, which oddly reassures me. Maybe that’s exactly what I need—the knowledge that no one else could have known she’s been here. Rumors could spread quickly.

  As I go downstairs to the kitchen, I expect to see the usual mess—dirty dishes, stains on the table. But everything is clean. She’s tidied up, leaving behind a sense of order and comfort, which surprises me more than anything.

  Her presence has left something important in my life. A faint fragrance still lingers in the air, as if she’s still here. And that feeling won’t let me go, remaining a warm, lingering mystery.

  The next week is tough for me. Every day after classes, I spend hours in the library, buried in books and textbooks. I know the Olympiad is an opportunity I can’t afford to miss. Every minute matters—I have to prove my knowledge and pass this challenge without letting myself down. I work tirelessly, studying everything I can on the subject, hoping for the best. This is my chance to showcase everything I’ve learned, and I’m not going to waste it.

  My emotions are mixed: on one hand, I’m determined; on the other, I feel constant pressure, as if a weight of responsibility rests on my shoulders—one I not only have to carry but also have to channel correctly during the exam.

  Katrin is absent from class again. By now, I’ve grown used to it, but this time, it irritates me even more. Her seat remains empty, and when I ask Dima where she is, he shrugs and says she doesn’t care about studying. She spends her nights partying in bars and clubs instead of focusing on important things. I smirk, remembering how she warned me: “Get ready to lose.” Looking at her behavior, I realize that phrase suits her more than it does me. She’s the one preparing for failure, not me. If she keeps drinking and not taking the Olympiad seriously, her chances of success will disappear. But I have no intention of reminding her. Let her lose—it will only work in my favor. She’s so sure of her victory, but reality is catching up with her fast.

  The wish.

  That’s another thing I can’t stop thinking about. What wish should I make her fulfill? It doesn’t seem like such a difficult question at first, but in reality, it becomes far more significant than I’ve expected. I keep trying to imagine what I could ask for, yet nothing reasonable comes to mind. Of course, any guy, if asked, would probably come up with something appropriate—or not so appropriate—right away. But that isn’t my style. I don’t want to set small goals or go for something easy. I want something more.

  Making a wish that truly matters—that’s worth considering. Something that will help me understand her better, yet won’t force me into compromises I’m not ready for. Or maybe I don’t even know what I want yet. This isn’t just a request; it’s a game, one I’m not entirely sure about myself. But deep down, I feel it will reveal something important.

  Should I ask her to be my girlfriend for a month? That would be simple. But no, that isn’t the step I want to take. She’s so unpredictable that I could either fall for her overnight or not notice her at all. Honestly, I’m not sure if I could even handle her for a month. I never know what she truly wants, and it seems like her life philosophy is far from what I’m looking for.

  But then again, I don’t really know who she is. Could I figure her out if I spend just a week by her side? It’s strange, but a week is at least something. She’s still a mystery to me. In that short period, I could at least try to understand her personality, to see what lies beneath her appearance and behavior.

  For a moment, I hesitate. Could she even act like someone’s girlfriend, or would her boldness and independence always get in the way? Maybe this challenge isn’t just about being with her—it’s about learning to accept her for who she truly is.

  Of course, intimacy is out of the question. I can’t even imagine what would happen if things go that far. I need more time to understand who she is to me. And as for kisses… I can think about it, but that’s where I have to draw the line. I don’t want to break any boundaries too soon. I want to see her in a different light, to get to know her on a deeper level.

  The wish is already there, and that’s what matters most. It’s the thing that keeps me going, pushing me forward despite the fear and uncertainty.

  Saturday arrives—the day of the Olympiad.

  The morning is tense; I’m nervous but try not to show it. Thoughts swarm in my head, but I know—if I give in to anxiety now, I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for. I’m certain I’ve prepared well, and if I act precisely, everything will work out. But that feeling of unease won’t leave me.

  All I can do now is mentally immerse myself in my preparation and focus on what I’ve studied. I know that if I follow the plan, if I think logically, as my teacher has taught me, everything will be fine. But life can be cruel, and I can’t allow my fate to depend on a single failure.

  "Is everyone here?" the examiner asks, looking at us, trying to determine who’s present.

  "Katrin Kamenskaya is missing," one of the professors standing by the board, checking the documents, informs her.

  The examiner waves her hand dismissively, making no attempt to hide her irritation. She clearly dislikes delays.

  "We’ll start without her. If it mattered to her, she’d be here."

  Some students nearby look concerned and hesitate for a few moments, unsure whether to say something, but the examiner is firm. As for me, I understand that this isn’t important to Katrin. Her indifferent attitude toward everything is obvious. She always arrives at classes at the last moment, barely putting in any effort on exams, and then rushes off to another party. I’m curious to see how she’ll handle it this time. Surely, she’s already dancing somewhere, having completely forgotten that some things are more important than endless parties and nightclubs.

  I can’t understand how someone can be so careless about something that’s vital to me.

  The Olympiad begins.

  The questions are far from easy, but I feel confident. I’ve prepared well, and that confidence gives me strength. Time is slipping away quickly, and I know I have to stay focused to not miss a single important detail.

  But then, with just thirty minutes left until the end of the exam, the door opens, and she walks in—Katrin.

  At that moment, I feel a smile spread across my face. It isn’t just a feeling of satisfaction but a certainty that she won’t have enough time to finish. I’m pleased, quietly celebrating my victory. But what truly stuns me is her appearance. She looks different—confident, composed, as if she isn’t in a hurry at all.

  A smirk immediately appears on her face. It’s both irritating and amusing. I can’t hold back a wide grin, thinking to myself—sorry, but you’ve lost. However, no matter how I assess the situation, Katrin is sure of the opposite. And there’s something mysterious and even intriguing about that.