Unknown: you want to get fucked, right?
West: yeah
Unknown: well good news because I want to fuck you
Something deep inside me clenches, and my entire body flushes hot.
Did he say that because he was fucking with me and trying to get in my head? Or maybe he actually wants me.
My dick thickens, and I shift around in my seat a bit.
What the actual fuck is wrong with me? Nothing about this situation should be turning me on, but here I am, half hard because some random guy might want to fuck me.
I pause on a different part of the conversation and chew my lip as I stare at the photo I sent him.
It’s beyond tame as far as sexting goes, and there’s nothing in it that can identify me, but it’s the fact that I sent it to him at all that’s the insane part, not the photo itself.
My memories of this part of the night aren’t the clearest, but I remember how I felt when he told me to send it to him, even if I don’t fully remember actually doing it.
It might have only been a text request, but there was something so final and commanding about his words that I obeyed without thinking, and it didn’t even occur to me that I shouldn’t have done it until after I’d already sent it.
So now one of my classmates knows I’m bi, has my texts as proof, and they also have a photo of me holding my junk after telling them that thinking about them was making me hard. And I have no idea who they are or why they’re doing any of this.
Fuck my fucking life.
Ant slides into the chair next to mine. “Someone had a rough night.”
I hastily exit out of my texts and hide my phone under the table attached to my seat in a move that’s not at all suspicious.
“Is it that obvious?” I ask.
“Yes.” He puts a takeaway coffee cup on the corner of my desk. “This might help.”
“What’s that?”
“Coffee.”
“Coffee?” I repeat like a dumbass.
“Yeah,” he says with a smile that makes my stomach wobble. “Three milk and two sugar, right?”
I nod dumbly. He knows my coffee order?
“Did you eat lunch?” he asks and unzips his bag.
I shake my head, a weird sensation moving through me as I clutch the coffee with two hands and the heat seeps into my palms.
“What about breakfast?”
“Yeah.” I take a sip of the coffee. It’s still hot, and exactly how I like it. “Grabbed something on my way to class this morning.”
“That’s good.” He pulls a wrapped breakfast sandwich and a small container of mixed fruit from his bag and puts them on my desk.
“Are those for me?” I ask tentatively.
He nods and pulls a can of cold brew out of his bag. “Figured you might need them after last night.”
“Were you there?” I don’t remember seeing him at the party, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t there.
