It’s not you, it’s me?
I doubt that would carry any more weight than my half-assed apology.
“I’m not going to sit around waiting for you like some desperate cleat chaser. If you walk out that door, we’re done.”
I don’t bother answering. It’s her choice to make and I can hardly blame her. I’m the asshole who’s bailing mid-hookup with no explanation.
Not that an explanation would make it any better.
Pretty sure she’d be pissed if she knew I was going to find another woman.
The tension in the room is so thick I’m damn near choking on it as I zip my pants and fumble with my belt. Stacy’s quiet and maybe that’s a good sign, but it’s just as likely she’s plotting my demise, so I abandon the effort of buttoning my shirt halfway through and yank the bedroom door open. The hall light slants across the room, and when I turn back to Stacy, a final apology on the tip of my tongue, she’s glaring daggers at me.
“You’re a real prick,” she finally says, voice wavering.
“So I’ve been told.” But at least I can be the prick who does the right thing for once.
If I’m not too late.
3
QUINN
Best.Idea.Ever. I really should’ve thrown caution to the wind and tried this whole losing-my-virginity-to-a-stranger thing ages ago because it’s finally going to happen.
I’m totally having sex tonight.
And, sure, Zac’s got sour beer breath, but at least he’s cute. Besides, it could be worse. He could have a tiny penis. Which he very well might because technically I haven’t seen it yet. Or a hairy ass.
Eww. I really hope he doesn’t have a hairy ass.
I’m down for chest hair and beards and even fuzzy arms, but a hairy ass?
Hard. Pass.
A girl’s got to have some standards, amirite?
Forget his ass and get busy already.
I can almost hear Haley snorting with laughter, because, honestly, who cares if he has hair growing out of his ears? It’s not like I’m going to marry the guy. Or even date him.
This is just sex.
S-E-X.
Zac at least seems to understand this because he doesn’t waste time with small talk. As soon as the door shuts, his hands are on me, roving over my body like it’s his new favorite toy. They’re rough and foreign, but I ignore the shiver of doubt that skates down my spine and scan the room, trying to get my bearings.
The bedroom is dark, and though the sounds of the rager downstairs are dampened, the floor still vibrates beneath my feet. There’s a soft green glow coming from a terrarium in the corner, but before I can get a good look at the creature inside, Zac spins me around and walks me backward toward the unmade bed.
My knees hit the mattress, and the next thing I know, I’m flat on my back with Zac’s crushing weight on top of me.
My breath escapes in a rush, and then his mouth is on mine, delivering one wet kiss after another as I gasp for air, my body sinking further into the mattress. I briefly imagine suffocating in the Sig Chi house—and the absolute shit-fit Noah will throw at the bad press—but then Zac shifts, propping himself up on one arm and thank sweet baby Jesus I can breathe again.
I gulp down a lungful of musky frat boy bedroom funk as Zac’s other hand settles on my thigh, pushing up the hem of my little black dress. He trails kisses down my exposed collarbone and his fingers scrape over my bare thigh as he rotates his hips, grinding against me.
“You’re so hot,” he murmurs, breath warm against my skin. “You like that, baby?”
Pretty sure he doesn’t want me to answer that honestly, so I make a noncommittal sound that sort of passes for a moan. The thing is, I may be virgin, but I’ve made out with guys before, and I know I should feel something when he’s grinding on my lady bits, but yeah, nothing.
