Dear St.Augustine, what have I done?
I don’t remember everything from my years at Catholic school, but I clearly recall that St. Augustine is the Patron Saint of bad decisions.
Don’t get me wrong, sex with Gym Shorts Hottie was amazing.
Like, life-affirming.
Like, so-good-it-doesn’t-seem-real.
And that’s exactly why it was a bad decision.
What was I thinking?! How did The Year of No Dicks start out with The Biggest and Best Dick of Them All?!
Ugh. I will have time to obsess over my stupidity on my walk of shame home. Right now, though, I need to peel myself off this very hot man without waking him.
God, I want to wake him.
But no! I won’t. Because that would be another bad decision.
We’re nearly glued to each other, but either he sleeps like the dead, or I wore him out because JT doesn’t stir.
His dick does, though. Even I have to admit that’s pretty damn impressive. It’s also another reason I need to get thehell out of here. I swear his dick is magnetized or something. It’s physically hard to leave him in this tub.
But I have no other choice.
My ankle is swollen, and my leg is dotted with bruises, but I’ll live. I dress as quickly and quietly as I can before easing the towel rack from under the doorknob and letting myself out. I close the door and send a silent prayer—to St. Joseph, thank you very much—that he can get a little more sleep before the whole house wakes up. I’m guessing he’s a brother of this frat, but he must not live here since he didn’t know his way around last night.
My watch battery is red, but there’s enough juice to let me know it’s nearly nine a.m. I’m not too worried, though. The party was still raging when I fell asleep on JT, so I’m fairly confident I can sneak out of here undetected. The stairs seem like a gamble. Sure, they must lead to the front door, but there’s a chance that somebody’s up early grabbing breakfast. Or maybe they haven’t gone to bed yet. And I can walk on my ankle, but if I try those stairs, there’s a fair chance I’ll land on my ass.
Slowly, I turn down a hall that looks vaguely familiar and… yes! We were here last night. There was a girl yelling about a dead jellyfish, I think? All I know is this is the way we came in, so it must be my way out.
I’m going slowly to ensure I don’t do any permanent damage to my ankle. JT’s probably right, and it’ll be fine in a day or two. But it’s tender, so I’m babying it and taking my time.
Until the music starts blasting.
Someone upstairs must be on a mission to wake the house or maybe even the dead. They’re blasting heavy metal from every speaker and that’s my cue to hustle.
I have no doubt JT will wake up and come looking for me. He’s just that nice of a guy. I’m not dumb enough to think hewants more than what we had last night, but he seems chivalrous enough to make sure I get home okay.
And that’s not a conversation I can have.
It was hard enough to resist him and his magnetic dick this morning. If I see him again, I’m not sure I can.
Getting involved with JT is not an option, so that means I need to get out of here.
Luckily, the coast is clear, and I slip out the back door and carefully make my way to the picnic bench JT sat me on last night. And no, I’m not getting sentimental about a freaking picnic bench.
That would be ridiculous, and that’s not me.
I am logical.
Level-headed.
No, I’m serious.
The last twelve hours of my life were a total aberration.
I don’t have sex with strangers in bathtubs.
