Privileged, entitled assholes.
And I slept with one of them.
Like so many before me, with many more to follow. I wasn’t delusional. I knew having sex with Jett on Friday would make me no more than another girl in his long list of conquests, but I just struggled to understand howIwas on the list. Why didn’t I remember meeting him? Talking to him? Why was I only getting X-rated flashbacks of him having sex with me?
I’d read a book once where the girl hooks up with the guy in the bathroom in the very first chapter. Some random guy walks into the bathroom, and they have some sort of insane chemistry and end up going at it without a word spoken. I loved reading that sort of attraction in books.
But those books were fiction. Fantasy.
Hooking up with random people withoutsayinganything, did that happen in real life? With no consequences? No guilt? Nocarefor their health?
I needed another shower. I still felt dirty. Used. It wasn’t rational; IknewI had been drunk, Iknewhe wouldn’t have known how incredibly out of character it was for me, and IknewJett wasn’t to blame for my recklessness on Friday.
Yet still . . . I hated him.
I hated him for what he unknowingly took, and I hated myself for not being able to remember.
Talking to him today merely emphasized how much of a dick he was. The best news I had heard since Friday was that he was injured. Reading the update on the team’s newsfeed, I grinned when I saw he was out for two games.
What a result! Mom’s hometown college team played here in a few weeks, and the Saints’ backup quarterback was nothing compared to Jett. Looks like the Blues would be winning.
With a smile on my face, I settled down to do my assignments and promised not to give one more minute of my attention to Jett freaking Santo.
* * *
I woke up sweating and panting, completely disoriented. My tank top was stuck to my body, and my sleep shorts were twisted around my hips and thighs.
“Ava?” Mia’s voice sounded from outside my door. “Are you okay?”
“Huh?” Wetting my lips, I tried again. “Yeah, um, sure,” I said as I rose up onto my elbows and looked around the dimly lit room. There was no sound and little light. Sliding my legs out of bed, I crossed the floor and opened the door.
Mia was on the other side, looking as disheveled as I felt, her skin tacky with sweat.
“Generator out?” I guessed.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Fuck, it’s like an oven in here.” Gathering my hair up into a pile, I tilted my head back.
Our humble little apartment lost electricity more than it probably should. We’d spoken to the college housing department, and they assured us it was a fluke that would be fixed. That was twelve months ago. Every month, sometimes twice, the generator would fail, and for an evening, we would either freeze or overheat. This month, it was overheating.
Tennessee nights at this time of year were hot, muggy, and sticky. I wanted a shower.
“How long’s it been out?” I asked Mia as I headed to the fridge.
“Not sure, your moaning woke me up.”
“Wh . . . what?” I stammered as I turned to look at her.
“I thought you were having a nightmare at first,” Mia told me as she leaned against the counter. “And then I thought you had a guy in there with you.”
“A guy?” I knew my eyes were wide as saucers as I stared at my best friend, who was watching me curiously.
“Yeah, you weremoaning.”
“A bad dream, I’m sure.” Turning my head away from her, I ran the water and filled two glasses. I avoided eye contact as I handed her a glass. “Whose turn is it to complain to housing?” I asked her as I took a sip.
“Yours.”
