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They're having sex.
Then they're not. The grunting stops. Flesh ceases to smack together.
The man looks at me. There's no sign of embarrassment or awkwardness on his face. He's totally unmoved.
The woman shrieks. She scrambles off the bed, pulling a sheet over her chest. "Miles, you fucker. I told you I don't do threesomes!"
Miles. There's something familiar about him. I try to place him but my thinking abilities are back to zero.
He's tall, broad shoulders and chest, sculpted abs, and below his bellybutton...
He's hard.
He's hard and he's huge.
Save for the condom, he's completely and utterly naked.
A blush spreads across my cheeks. I stammer, attempting and failing to speak. I've never seen that before. Not in person. In movies, sure. Textbooks, of course.
But never in person.
I can't look away.
The guy, Miles, makes eye contact. His voice is even. Calm. "You mind?"
I take a step backwards. My foot sinks into the plush carpet. I only barely manage to hold my balance. "Excuse me. I thought this was the bathroom."
"Next door on the left."
I know I'm red. Beet red. "Thanks."
I pull the door closed so I'm alone in the hallway. Next door on the left.
I step into the bathroom, lock the door, and die of embarrassment.
It takes twenty minutes for my cheeks to return to a normal color. I slink back to the sprawling main room and do my best to blend in amongst the partygoers.
Every inch of the hardwood floor is packed with beautiful people talking, flirting, or making out.
It's like the up-and-coming models, actors, and musicians are attracted to each other. They have a certain glow that mere mortals lack. And here I thought this was a normal college-students-with-a-keg-and-cheap-vodka kind of shindig.
Kara's friend invited us. He's in a band. Are they really this popular? I can't remember their name, but then it's hard to think of anything but Miles naked on the bed, hard and ready for action.
The lines of his hips and torso are burned into my brain.
And his…
Dammit, I'm not going there.
I find the closest thing to an empty corner and try to clear my head. I fail. My mind keeps going back to that vivid mental image.
Miles. He was unfazed, like the sex meant nothing to him. Like the girl on his bed meant nothing to him.
The man is a player. He's not the kind of guy I need in my life. He doesn't deserve my thoughts.
This stops. Now.
I scan the room for some better way to stay occupied.
