And things have cooled dramatically since then.
We barely talk these days.
I blame my studies, but I know it’s more than that.
The drift has very little to do with me.
So I deserve to enjoy myself.
“Have to go, sorry. I'm working tonight,” I explain. “Kitchen slave.”
“Let me walk you out,” Olsen insists.
We meander across the courtyard and through the dorm lounge.
As we pass an open door, I freeze on the spot.
Four, five, six,I count.
Six guys my age, completely naked.
Mouths around cocks.
Asses being fingered.
Blonde wigs strewn across the carpet.
“Fuck yeah…” one of them moans. “Bounce on it. Ride that dick.”
I can’t move. My feet are glued to the tiles.
Heart thudding in my chest, I force myself to look away.
But not before Olsen sees the hunger in my eyes.
The way I wanted it.
The way I want him.
“It's not usually this intense,” he murmurs, with a hint of apology.
“O week can get a little wild. I should have given you a heads up.”
“It's okay,” I lie.
The toe of my shoe draws a circle on the rug.
“Nothing I haven't seen before.”
Idiot,I think.
Why the hell would you say that?
“Really?” His ears perk up at this. “Have you ever...?”
“Gotta go,” I blurt quickly. “Someone's waiting for me.”
Another lie.
