Shit, I hope he remembers and isn’t really confused by my text. Three blue dots appear and disappear, and my concern grows with each one until his text finally comes through.
Porter
Barely. Taco Bell is a blessing and a curse.
Oh thank fuck, he remembers.
Will
Worth it though
Porter
Yep, I regret nothing
His quick response has a smile stretching across my face. I’m glad he isn’t mad that I basically stepped in to pull him away from that guy who was grinding all over him. It probably wasn’t my place, I’m the last person who should be judging other people for their hookups, but I do care about Porter. Something about the way that guy was looking at him, like he wanted to devour him, didn’t sit right with me. Especially because I don’t think Porter even realized how drunk he was. When I saw him spill half his shot down his arm, I was out of my seat before I’d even made the conscious decision to do anything about it.
And I’m glad I did, because ending the night hanging out with Porter was great.
With his comments about birthday sex and lace underwear, it was hard to forget how horny I’ve been lately though. Sure, it would’ve been nice to hook up last night and get myself out of my slump, but that can happen any night. Porter only has one twenty-first birthday. Hearing that he’s glad he spent it with me is more satisfying than any one-night stand.
Will
Good, me neither
I type out my next text, hesitating for a moment before I send it. Is it weird to go all the way to his place just to bring him coffee? Even though he teased me about spoiling him last night, he seemed to enjoy it, so why should I stop now? I’d do it for my roommates, but we’re all already in the same place. Fuck it, I did make him a promise. Sort of.
Will
How about that coffee?
If he doesn’t want me to come, I’m sure he’ll come up with an excuse, or hell, knowing Porter, he’ll probably just tell me he doesn’t want me to come. I normally don’t question myself, so I have no idea why I suddenly am with him. I guess I’ve never had to worry this much about winning someone over, and it has me overthinking everything.
I’m glad I went for it, though, because he responds almost immediately, so he obviously doesn’t think it’s weird either.
Porter
Iced salted caramel latte, please and thank you.
According to my very thorough research involving a comment thread on a social media post about the best coffee on our campus, the place I normally go is, in fact, shit. I decide on a shop I’ve never heard of that’s not exactly on the way but has the most people recommending it, so I think it’ll be worth it.
Nearly thirty minutes later I’m knocking on Porter’s door, holding two coffees. He opens it, somehow still looking more put together than I ever do, wearing a cropped shirt and sweats, despite the fact that his eyes aren’t quite open all the way.
“Morning, birthday boy.” I greet him with as muchenthusiasm as I can manage through my own headache. We really did a lot of shots last night.
“My hero.” He smirks and grabs his coffee dramatically, clutching it to his chest for a moment like it’s something precious. “Thank you, come in.”
I follow him into his living room and sit on the opposite couch. “So, how’s the hangover feeling this morning?”
“Manageable,” he responds with a shrug. “Took some Tylenol, but I’m sure this’ll help more.”
“The morning of my twenty-first was brutal, so I get it. Could barely get to class. It was a Wednesday.”
“Oof, a weekday birthday? I’m shocked you made it to class at all. That’s rough.” He takes a sip and sighs loudly. “God. This is exactly what I needed. What coffee shop is this from?”
“Joe’s Coffee. Apparently it’s the best around.”
“I take offense to that since I thinkIactually make the best coffee around, not Joe,” Porter teases, and I laugh.
