“You areunbelievable,” Blondie mutters. “You know, maybe if you weren’t always getting drunk with your frat buddies, you might retain the brain cells needed to form long-term memories.”
Chuckling, I lean back against the closed door. My, my, she’s feisty. “I’m going to take that as a yes. You know, now that you mention it, you look kind of familiar… Did I fuck your best friend or something? You girls do tend to travel in packs.”
She crosses her arms over perky breasts I’d pay good money to press my face into. God, I hope Drunk Me took the time to enjoy them properly last night.
“Nope.” She lifts one slender shoulder, then lowers it in a lazy shrug. “I’m afraid the idiot you fucked was me.”
When I don’t respond, opting instead to gape at her like some kind of brainless dumbass, she sighs, and grips the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “We met last school year. I was the naive freshman”—she gestures to herself before jabbing an accusatory finger in my direction—“andyouwere the fuckboy junior. Ring any bells?”
My stomach churns again at her words, which are all it takes to kill my morning boner. So, Blondieisa Repeat. Shit.
Way to go, Drunk Me, you dick.
I try and fail to swallow down the surge of bile rushing up my throat. Fuck. I think I’m going to be sick.
“I meet a lot of girls,” I counter. “At this point, you sort of blur together. I’m a busy guy. I can’t possibly remember you all.”
Blondie nods, and an empathetic look crosses her face as she takes a step toward me, closing the distance between us with a seductive glint to her eye that has my cock twitching and attempting to rally despite the nausea gripping my stomachthat’s giving me flashbacks to the spinning teacups at Disney. She places warm hands on my shoulders and brings her lips to my ear, our cheeks brushing.
“Well, then maybe this will jog your memory.”
A choked cry tears from my lungs at the shock of the sudden impact of her knee with my crotch. Darkness washes over my vision, and as I fall to the hardwood floor, instinctively curling into the fetal position, I can just make out Blondie stepping over me like I’m a piece of shit she’s wiped off her shoe. She fumbles with the doorknob for a moment, then yanks the door open and storms out into the hallway.
She pauses only long enough to look back at where I lie on the ground, cupping my throbbing dick and balls, unable to move from the debilitating cramps spreading into my abdomen.
A menacing smile hitches up one side of her mouth. “Tick the box for this on your bucket list, jackass.”
Groaning, I tilt my head back until it touches the floor as a vague memory flickers to life in my brain. It slowly takes shape in my thoughts, growing clearer, forcing its way past the incoherence of my pain.
My eyes bolt wide as I manage a single word. “Fuck.”
And just like that, I remember where I know Blondie from.
The severity of my hangover combined with the shame of my actions is directly proportional to how much caffeine I’ll need to make it through this conversation.
Rage burns through me hot and fast, like a shot of liquor injected into the vein, as I race through the unfamiliar corridors of Leeland Hall as quickly as my stilettos will carry me. Despite my current visual impairment, I only trip once on my way through the building, but something in the universe must be looking out for me—though definitely not God or I wouldn’t be in this mess—because I catch myself before I fall and destroy what little shred of dignity I have left.
A comforting warmth caresses my bare arms and legs the moment I step outside. It’s only early September, so we still have the summer heat, which I’m thankful for given the skimpy outfit Ronnie insisted I wear to the party, butnotso thankful forwhen the sun overhead beams straight into my face, searing my retinas and blinding me even more than I already am. I wince, sensitive to the light, my skull pounding. Punishment, probably, for the events of last night.
To my extreme annoyance, the quad beside the building is populated with dozens of fuzzy forms. Students, no doubt, which I should have been prepared for since their presence here is typical for a Friday morning. Masses of incoherent blobs are situated on the ground, likely studying on blankets, while others amble along in small groups, heading to class or to their respective dorms with their friends. I keep my gaze fixed ahead as I walk, my pace brisk, but even blind—even trying my best to ignore them—I can feel the way they all shower me with their judgmental gazes, as if they can see the evidence of what I did like a visible brand on my skin.
The anger in my chest swells with each step I take, and my hands curl into fists at my sides as I suppress the banshee-like scream rising up in my throat. The motherfucker didn’t remember me. Why, ohwhy, am I so surprised?
Of course, he didn’t, Lex!I was nothing to that manwhore freshman year, and I’m nothing to him now except another stupid notch he can add to his overpriced belt. Another tick on his fucking list. From the day we met—regardless of how hot and intense our hook-up might have been—I was nothing but a mere blip on Damian Navarro’s sex radar.
A rogue lock comes loose from my bun—my hair reverting to its naturally curly state thanks to the humidity in the air—and brushing the sweaty strands away, I tug my phone free of my pocket and scroll through the contacts until I find Ronnie’s name. Her voice blares in my ear after just one ring.
“Okay, bitch. What the hell?”
“Sorry. I couldn’t talk before. Jesus, my head isliterallythrobbing.”
“Um, yeah.” She huffs, and I can practically hear her rolling her eyes at me. “I’m not surprised considering the way you were pounding drinks like a British sailor last night. You ready to tell me where you ran off to?”
An icy shudder rolls over my skin as disjointed memories of the frat party and the mistake that followed pop into my head as if to torment me. Every time I dare to blink, Damian is all I can see, his smug smile haunting my thoughts. A smile I would pay good money to slap right off his face.
“I really don’t think I can have that conversation without caffeine,” I grumble. “Meet me at Izzy’s in ten? Oh, and do me a favor and bring my glasses with you? I left them in your room last night when we were getting ready.”
Ronnie lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, but this better be juicy. I’m not facing the assholes on this campus bare-faced for nothing.”
