"April, someone has spilled soda in the men's formal wear section. It needs mopping," my boss, Eleanor, told me.

My name is Abril and cleaning isn't my damn job!

"Sure," I answered, faking the best smile I could manage.

I was not on cleaning duty that day but, unfortunately for me, the guy who was also happened to be the guy she liked to get cozy with every now and then. She was quick to turn a blind eye on his absences and she had the bad habit of picking me to do his job. I couldn't afford to complain, though, I had my rent to pay, and I wasn't exactly rolling in money.

So I kept my big mouth shut – which I don't do often – grabbed a mop, and went to clean up the mess a disrespectful customer had made. Eating and drinking was technically prohibited in the store, but the people that could afford buying their clothes there usually disregarded such rules, or any rules for that matter.

"Excuse me, miss?" Someone called out to get my attention.

I looked up and met the face of the man who had called after me. He had bright copper hair, pale skin, and loads of freckles, concentrated mostly on his nose. He wore round tortoiseshell spectacles and his hair was cut slightly shorter on his side than on the top. If the haircut was douchey, the man was anything but. He was the archetypical client of this store: a rich one, and it showed. I couldn't say he was handsome, although I wouldn't have called him ugly either.

As I didn't answer quickly enough to his taste, he cleared his throat loudly. I gestured for him to go on.

"Get me the same in black," he said while handing me what looked like a navy-blue tuxedo. He told me the size he needed and kept on speaking. "I will also need a white wingtip-collar shirt. Promptly please, I don't have the entire day."

"I beg your pardon?" I asked more politely than I thought myself capable of. My patience was not made to endure working in retail.

"Was I not clear? I need the same tuxedo as this one," he pointed at the clothes I had yet to take from his hands "in black, and a white shirt with a wingtip collar," he said obnoxiously slowly, as if speaking to someone who doesn't speak English.

Abs, keep cool. Back talking to this asshole isn't worth getting fired.

"Do you think I didn't understand you?" I asked so calmly it hurt every fiber of my being, whose instinct was to bark at him.

"Well, you did ask me to repeat myself."

He isn't worth it. He isn't worth it. He isn't worth it. HE IS NOT WORTH IT.

"I did understand, I was just inviting you to rephrase since you were being rude."

"With all due respect, miss, I have been nothing but perfectly polite. In any case, I regularly spend a significant amount of money in this store, I expect it to come with the privilege of not having to walk on eggshells when addressing paid employees. Now please get me what I want before I have to report you."

I clenched my fists and ground my teeth so I could keep my mouth shut. If I opened it, I could not predict what would come out of it.

As I didn't respond nor moved, he commanded me again, "The same, black, and a white shirt. I'll be waiting for you in the changing room. Bring your pins in case it needs alterations."

Nope, I was not having it.

"I'm afraid I cannot help you, sir, men's formal wear is not my section."

"I do not care what your section is. I'm paying several thousand dollars for this; I certainly won't be doing your job on top of that."

There was only so much I could take without fighting back.

"Listen, my section is women's underwear so, unless you want a push-up bra, I'm not getting you anything. One of my colleagues will be happy to help you. So please go to them and let me clean this damn floor."

He did not reply immediately and the dumbass I sometimes was took his silence for resignation. I got back to my cleaning, positive that he had dropped the case and gone to one of my colleagues, who would know better than me how to assist him anyway. But that would have been too easy. Ginger Dude wasn't the kind of man to let other people, especially a mere saleswoman, take him down a peg.

"I want to talk to your manager," he announced, his tone wanting to be threatening.

That was a low blow, and a very childish move, really. This guy must have been a snitch when he was kid. I tried with all my strength to keep a poker face, to act like I couldn't care less if Eleanor heard about our little argument. But I cared. A lot. I was already on thin ice with her. I could never let him know that, though.

"Sure, she's in her office, let me go get her," I said as convincingly as I could.

"I don't believe for one second that you do not care if I tell Eleanor about this... situation."

Had he just called her by her first name?

"You know Eleanor?" I inquired.

He looked down for a fraction of a second and blushed almost imperceptibly.

Bingo!

"Yes, erm... Yes, I know her."

"You've had sex with her, haven't you?" I practically yelled, shocked and also quite impressed that this weird man had managed to bag a boss lady like Eleanor. I disliked the woman, but I couldn't deny that she was fierce and driven. I'd always pictured her with somebody less... soft. This man looked soft, even though he wanted to play hard-ass.

Ginger Dude's face flushed bright red. I was so right. About Eleanor and his softness.

"Wh—What?" He stuttered. "What makes you think I... Never mind, it's none of your business, anyway. Now, apologize to me and get me the clothes, and I won't have to tell her about it."

I had wished for exactly one second that my mentioning his sex life would put him off track. I was wrong.

"Are you blackmailing me?" I challenged him. "It's illegal, you know?"

"This is not blackmail, this is a statement. Now listen, I'm tired of that back-and-forth." His face, so far neutral and harmless, suddenly became harder. His eyes turned more severe and his mouth pinched in a tight line. His voice, also, dropped an octave when he said, "You are going to get me what I want, and you are going to do it right now. Otherwise, I'll have you fired. It's as simple as that. So think very carefully about what you are going to do next."

He was bluffing. Right? Surely nobody would be mean enough to do that to someone over such a silly argument. I decided to push my luck further

"How d—" He cut me off by raising his forefinger between the two of us and my eyes zeroed on it. I realized he wasn't much taller than me. Five eleven, probably.

"As I said, think very carefully," he repeated. "You do not want to provoke me."

Okay, maybe he is serious, after all.

I couldn't say I was afraid, but I wasn't particularly confident either. He was angry at me, more so than the usual dissatisfied customer would be at a salesperson. I didn't want to back down, I was too proud for that, and I could not bear the idea of him gloating if I caved. However, I knew very well that he could just say one word to Eleanor and I'd be toast. My desire to keep a steady income ended up being stronger than my pride.

I gave in to my tormentor and bowed my head slightly. The redhead noticed the wavering of my resolve and an arrogant smirk grew on his lips. I wanted to punch him so bad.

"It wasn't so hard, was it?" He said with the utmost condescension before leaving for the changing rooms.

He was already undressed and hiding behind the curtain when I came back with the correct clothes, a pin cushion strapped to my wrist. He held out his arm and snatched the garments from my hands, groaning something that sounded very much like "It's about time!" I decided to ignore it. It would be over faster if I complied silently.

He exited the changing room and stood still on the platform. I scanned his outfit. The size was good, the cut and the color too. Not that black was a difficult color to wear, but it did suit him well. I put a couple pins on the places where the tuxedo could use some alterations and, in a matter of a few minutes, it was over.

"Leave the clothes in the cabin when you're done and I'll give them to one of our tailors," I explained. "We'll call you when it's ready, it shouldn't take more than a week."

"Wait," he called after me as I was almost running out of there. "Can I have your honest opinion? How do I look? Is it a good choice?"

I rolled my eyes. He saw it and glared. I cleared my throat.

"This tuxedo suits you well," I said flatly. It was true, after all. In terms of size and fit, this tux was a perfect match for him.

Some people would have marveled over these expensive clothes on that obviously wealthy man. I wasn't one of them. I had never liked people who needed to show the rest of the world they had money, and I had always found suits and tuxedos very plain and boring. This was particularly true for Ginger Dude. He had already struck me as uptight in what I believed were his work clothes, it was even worse in formal attire.

"Thanks," he replied. "What color should my bow tie be, in your opinion?"

"Hot pink, maybe?" I answered sarcastically with a slight laugh.

He did not laugh. He glared at me, instead.

"Be careful, miss. You were doing so well so far. Let's keep it that way, shall we?"

Then again, it took all my strength not to punch him in the face.

"Relax, it was just a joke. How open are you to trying something out of the ordinary?"

"Not much."

Shocking!

"Then black it is. You've got a slender figure; I'd suggest a slightly slimmer bow tie."

"All right. Would you mind getting one for me?"

I quickly went to grab two options and handed them to him. There was a plain one and one with pointy ends, for a slightly more edgy look. He picked the plain one – how surprising. He fastened it around his neck without any trouble and looked at me expectantly.

"Yeah, you look nice," I said obediently.

"Thank you. You may go now."

I managed to ignore his bossy tone and finally got a chance to clean the floor. Once I finished, I hurried to get back to my own section, where I knew I was safe from any other infuriating man.

* * *

Thud! Thud! Thud!

My joints were almost bleeding from hitting the old punching bag hanging in the middle of my studio flat, but I couldn't possibly stop. Not until his obnoxious smirk disappeared from my mind. I kept replaying the scene in my head again and again, each time making me want to punch him a bit harder.

Ugh!

I punched, and punched, and punched, but his infuriating gloating face wouldn't disappear. I decided that alcohol would be more efficient. Just as I was sitting down and pouring whisky into a glass, the doorbell rang.

"Come in!" I shouted at my visitor.

I wasn't surprised when Sigrid Sjögren sat on the couch after letting herself in. She was my best friend since forever and she treated my home like hers, just like I treated hers like mine.

"You're sweating like a pig, Abs," she said as a cheerful greeting.

Sig and I had known each other since our freshman year of high school. She came from Iceland, and I came from Argentina, and we were both attending a rather conservative American school, full of students who tended to avoid us because of our substandard English. We had had no other choice than to hang out with each other and it had turned out a lot greater than expected since we were still best friends more than ten years later.

"Yeah, I've been exercising," I explained.

"You're not exercising., you're torturing yourself. Look at your hands!"

I did. My skin had eventually torn apart, and blood was rolling from my fingers down my wrists.

"Oops," I simply replied. I hadn't worn gloves and my hands were so numb that I didn't feel the pain.

I took a sip of my whisky for good measure.

"Any particular reason you're hitting that bag so hard?" She asked, genuine worry readable on her face.

"Oh, nothing much, really," I reassured her. "I just had to deal with a particularly infuriating customer today."

"Is that so? Tell me about it."

I told her the whole story in details, like always.

"Yeah, he does sound like he's an ass," Sig commented, just like I had expected her to.

"Yeah, right? And since his face wasn't an option, I needed to punch something. But anyway, what's bringing you here?"

She told me there was a party at our friend Cedric's frat house and we both were invited. This was the first frat house party of the academic year that had just started. There would be a lot of alcohol and other various substances, and very little dignity: the kind of party I enjoyed.

"Go shower, I'll wait here," she said after I told her I would go to the party with her.

I disappeared into the bathroom to cleanse my body from all my sweat, my blood, and, hopefully, the bad vibes that had ruined my day. When I finished scrubbing, drying, and moisturizing every inch of my skin, I put on black high-waisted shorts, a floral corset top, and sky blue Converses. I would add a denim jacket and a red purse when it was time to leave.

Sig scanned me from head to toes and slightly wrinkled her nose but abstained from comments. She was the classic beauty one, I was the quirky and colorful one. She was wearing a short plum dress that revealed a sizable portion of her long and thin legs. The color stood out beautifully against her snow-white skin and her blond hair. Like, Icelandic, icy blond hair, not bad-bleach-job blond. It was so fair and shiny, it literally dazzled me in the sunlight. She wore it chin-length, which gave her a mischievous look that matched her personality.

"How do I look?" She dared ask.

"Shut up. You know you look perfect."

"I do. But thanks!" She winked at me before letting herself fall on my couch. "I'm starving," she complained. "Chinese?"

"Chinese," I agreed.

She picked her cell from her purse and dialed the number of our favorite Chinese takeout. She ordered our usual and the delivery man brought it to my door half an hour later. We ate it while watching reruns of Charmed on TV.

"That Paige girl," Sig began, "she has gorgeous hair in this season, you should totally try that color."

Please, no more orange hair!

"I don't want to see orange hair in a million years."

"That would suit you so well, though!" She tried to convince me. "You've had that baby pink for a while, you're due for a change."

"I love you, Sig, but you don't get to choose what color I dye my hair. It's private business."

She pouted but dropped the case. We kept watching Charmed until it was time for us to leave.

We took the metro at the stop next to my building to go to the UCLA campus, where Cedric lived and studied. He came out of his frat house to greet us after we let him know we were there. There were already drunk people throwing up in the bushes and others making out against the wall.

"Where have you been?" Ced yelled, raising his arms in the air. "I've been waiting for you for an hour at least!"

"Abby just had to watch that other episode of Charmed," Sig answered.

I smacked her arm.

"What? You know it's true."

"It is," I confessed. "You know how I can't resist watching the Halliwell sisters," I explained to Cedric.

He sighed, and ultimately chuckled at my candor, before leading the way back into the house.

As soon as we passed the threshold, some cups were handed to us, and we filled them with beer. I drank mine rather quickly and took another. There were many familiar faces in that house, I went to a lot of their parties, but some of them were strangers to me. First-years and pledges, I imagined. I saw half-naked people playing strip-poker, a frat boy I was used to seeing there was drinking beer from a funnel, and some barely dressed girls were dancing on the pool table, in front of many men's hungry eyes.

"Hey, Abs!" Sig tapped on my shoulder.

I turned around and nodded for her to go on.

"These guys want to take us at beer pong, you're in?"

I stared at said guys. Both were incredibly hot, young, and obviously new there. That would be a piece of cake to beat them.

"Sure!" I agreed, and then whispered in Sigrid's ear "Dibs on the one on the left."

"Nice, I prefer the one on the right."

We worked well together like that.

While we set up the game, I made conversation with the pretty boy. "So, you're new here?"

"Yeah, I'm pledging this fraternity. You?

"I don't study at UCLA but I have a lot of friends in this house. I'm basically part of the furniture, now," I laughed.

"Great, that means I'll get to see you a lot."

That was far from a smooth line, but I forgave him because of his young age. If he were to stay in this frat, I was sure its occupants would teach him how to pick up women, or men, more efficiently.

"You're sweet," I simply replied.

"Did you come here with a date?" He asked, apparently feeling very confident.

"Well, Cedric over there invited me here," I pointed at my blond, sun-kissed friend. "But I wouldn't consider him a date. He is my friend."

The pledge seemed pleased to know that Ced wouldn't be his competition that night.

"What's your name?"

"Abril. But you can call me Abby."

"Is that Mexican?"

"Argentinian, actually."

"It's a beautiful name," he paused, expecting me to say something, which I didn't. "You don't want to know mine?"

"I don't need it for what I want to do with you." I winked at him and finished filling the cups for the game.

Thinking they had to go easy on us, the two guys let us play first. I seized the ball, targeted the cups on the opposite side of the table, took a deep breath and eventually threw the ball. It landed with a splash! in their front cup, the most difficult to reach.

"YES!" I shouted as I high-fived Sig.

"You just got lucky," commented Sigrid's guy.

She stuck her tongue out at him and told him to play. He obliged. The ball hit our back cups but bounced off the table, which made us scream even louder. People, attracted by the noise, started to gather around us. Soon, we were surrounded by a crowd of drunk and excited students. It was Sig's turn. She threw the ball carefully but missed our opponents' cups by less than an inch and groaned in frustration.

"What was I saying?" Her target teased her.

She groaned even more. Beer pong was serious business, we did not like to lose.

It was now the turn of my guy. Instead of focusing on the cups he had to aim at, he looked me in the eye and, without even blinking, performed a perfect shot. He punctuated it with a wink in my attention. The crowd went mad with deafening cheers. I gulped down the twelve ounces of beer and threw the empty cup on the floor.

"All right, all right!" I tried to silence everybody. "Things are getting serious, I'll need some stronger alcohol. Someone bring me a drink, please!"

A second later, I was handed what looked like a glass of rum and Coke from a man I vaguely knew. I downed it and got back to the game.

"Getting nervous, Abby?" My guy tried to distract me.

But I was no fool. I ignored his pretty lips and threw the ball on their side of the table. It hit the edge of one cup and slid around it for a whole two seconds before eventually falling into the liquid. Our audience roared in appreciation, and I couldn't resist blowing an arrogant kiss at our opponents. And the game went on. The second guy missed his shot and Sig mastered hers. The score was three-one for us. But after that, no one scored for at least five rounds, until Sigrid's guy finally managed to drop the ball in our front cup. She drank it easily and returned the favor by scoring another point. There were only two of their cups remaining, and four of ours. And it was my guy's turn to play. He missed, and so did I.

"Abby!" Sigrid shouted. "Get yourself together, we have to win!"

To add to her irritation, her guy won another point. four-three, we were still leading but not by much. I drank the beer she was supposed to drink to maximize her chances of scoring. Which she did, bringing us to one only point away from victory. But the guys scored too. It was my turn now, just one perfect shot and this game could be over. I rubbed the ball in my palms and blew some air on it for good luck. I took a few seconds to focus, my mind was beginning to wander away with all the alcohol I had drunk. I printed the image of their single remaining cup in my brain and tried to visualize how I had the best chance to reach it. And, eventually, I threw the damn ball.

I heard the crowd's cheers before I saw the ball fall into the amber liquid. I screamed out of joy and hugged Sigrid when I realized we'd won. We slid our unclaimed cups to the other side of the table, for the boys to drink as punishment for losing. We exchanged a few flirty looks with them, and then we went dancing with all the other students.

I moved my body in sync with the music but refrained from dancing with all my heart, since Sig was with me. If there was one thing I was better at than Sigrid, it was dancing. My mom had taught me how to dance since I was able to walk, so it was part of me. Sig, however, had always been too stiff and lanky to achieve any kind of graceful dance move. She only danced when she was drunk, which I was positive she was.

After a short while, her guy met her on the dance floor and, after a few steps together, they left the room. It was my cue to get a new drink. I found a bottle of tequila and mixed some of it with lemonade.

"Abs!" I heard someone call me. "Come join us!"

The person who had invited me was Joan, one of Ced's fellow students. She was a nice girl, in the most genuine sense of the word. She was a dreamer and saw the best in everyone. She also smoked a lot of pot.

"It's so great to see you!" I said as I hugged her hello and greeted her group of friends.

"You, too! I saw you destroy those two guys at beer pong, congrats!"

"Yeah, that was awesome!" Said Paul, a student from another fraternity.

"Thanks," I replied. "But there wasn't much competition, they just couldn't handle my talent at beer pong."

My remark made everyone laugh.

"You want to try another game?" Paul suggested. "This one won't be nearly as easy as beer pong."

"You're challenging me, aren't you?"

"I certainly am."

"Okay," I agreed. "Challenge accepted, tell me the rules."

And that's how I found myself playing another drinking game. As Paul had said, this one wasn't easy. It was a memory game, in which I had to say a word after repeating every word the other players had said before. It didn't seem that difficult at first, but the alcohol currently flowing in my blood severely hindered my ability to remember more than two words. So I ended up losing, which led to drinking even more alcohol.

"I'm out!" I surrendered when I had more than enough to drink. "I'm so fucking out."

People around me laughed. I couldn't blame them, I was beyond drunk and certainly not speaking very clearly. I needed nicotine. I picked my bag of tobacco, my rolling papers and my filters from my purse and struggled to roll a cigarette. When I eventually managed to get something somehow smokable, I lit it up and breathed in the heavy smoke. The familiar feeling of tingling in my throat sort of cleared my mind up. I was craving nicotine so much that my cigarette didn't last more than a couple of minutes. I needed something stronger.

Just as I was thinking that Joan handed me a joint that I hadn't realized was being passed around in our circle. I accepted it with great pleasure and took a big puff out of it. The effects of the drug were almost immediate, my body weighed heavier, and my mind became quiet. I took a few more puffs to savor this haven a bit longer and then gave the joint to the man on my left.

Some cheer noises suddenly echoed in the room. I turned around to find their origin and found out that it came from the massive crowd gathered around the pool table. One of the frat boys – Spencer, the president of the fraternity – was standing on it and was apparently asking for volunteers.

"Come on, ladies!" He called out. "Don't you want to have a good time?"

I hadn't listened to the beginning of his speech, but it definitely sounded fun. The bottles of tequila that were at his feet confirmed the feeling that I needed to go there. I did want to have a good time, after all, so why not?

I moved towards Spencer and yelled "I'm in!" and raised my hand in the air so that he would notice me among the crowd. His smile became mischievous. He held up his hand for me to grab it and helped me up on the table.

"Everyone, we've got a volunteer!" He screamed like a football commentator. "Please welcome Abby!"

The people applauded and whistled and yelled in response. Spencer put a hand on my hip and pulled me closer so he could whisper in my ear.

"You want to go to my room once the party is over?" He asked.

His proposition made me giggle.

"Sorry, Spencer, I don't do repeats. You know that," I responded.

"You don't know what you're missing," he said and punctuated it by slightly pinching my butt. I giggled even louder. He then addressed the mass of people "Boys and girls, time to queue up!"

As the crowd slowly morphed into a long line of drunk students, we got off the table and Spencer explained to me what I would have to do.

"We're just doing body shots, you're cool with that?" He asked.

I nodded.

He invited me to lie down on the table and took out a saltshaker and a plastic container filled to the brim with lime wedges. He unbuttoned the top of my shorts and scrunched up my top to set my bellybutton free and poured a little tequila in it. He licked my collarbone, put some salt on my wet skin, and placed a lime wedge between my teeth. As I expected him to, he licked the salt, sucked out the tequila and then chewed the piece of lime. Horny students burst into cheers, all impatient to do the same.

It was quite exciting to have all these people – mostly men, but a few women too – licking and sucking parts of my body. The sensation of their tongues on my skin tickled and I ended up giggling a lot. Giggling was fun. It made me giggle even more.

I don't know how many people had already had their shot on me – maybe twenty or so – when I spotted him. My guy was standing only three feet away from the table I was lying on, he was next in line. When the guy in front of him finished his business with me, he took a step and looked down at me from all his height. A vicious smile grew on his lips.

"You can't even imagine what I want to do to you when I see you like that," he declared.

I raised an eyebrow at him to dare him to show me.

"Do you mind if I help myself?" He asked, pointing at the bottle of tequila.

I nodded fervently.

Instead of wetting my collarbone, he decided to lick my cleavage and he put salt between my boobs. He positioned the lemon between my teeth and poured some tequila in my belly button. He sensually stuck his tongue out to lick the salt on my boobs, blowing on my wet skin to make me shiver. He then went on to my stomach, where his tongue essentially violated my navel. I couldn't explain how, but each time his tongue touched the bottom of my navel, it sent a wave of electricity to my lower body, and especially to my crotch. Judging by the arrogant smirk on his lips, that bastard knew perfectly well what he was doing. To end his show beautifully, he took the lime from me with his teeth, spat it on the floor and then crushed his lips on mine. His kiss was messy, urgent, and drunken. But it was good enough. He had a strong tendency to let me know he was leading, and I let him do so. For now. Some boos! echoed in the room as it became clear I would no longer be available for body shots.

My guy ignored the audience as he climbed on the table with me and pressed his body on top of mine, between my parted legs. I could feel the start of his erection on my groin, and I grew even more impatient. My body was on fire and I needed to remedy that immediately.

He must have sensed my need because his lips left mine to come closer to my ear.

"My room is just two stories up," he informed me.

"Let's go," I commanded.

He obliged and quickly got off the table and helped me down. We ignored the dirty looks and the cheers of encouragement as he led me up the stairs and almost pulled his bedroom door off its hinges, for he had violently kicked it open. He grabbed my butt to carry me to his bed, where he let us both fall, him on top of me. In less time than it takes to say it, he had taken off his tee-shirt and his shorts, leaving me still fully dressed, and was gently stroking the bulge under his underwear. I couldn't help but look at his junk.

"See something you like?" He arrogantly asked.

"Meh," I responded. "I've seen better."

It was a rude thing to say in such a situation, but I couldn't stand self-sufficient assholes, and he was starting to strike me as one. Lucky for him, though, he was hot enough to arouse me and make me stay, otherwise I would have just fucked off. He seemed a little hurt by my comment but quickly hid it.

"You may have seen better, but I guarantee mine will feel the greatest," he showed off. "Now, take your clothes off."

I ignored his rude tone and faked being a bit submissive. I obeyed his order. When I was fully naked, I lay on my back and waited for him to show me what he was all about. He eventually took off his own underwear, settled between my legs, and placed his erection at the entrance of my vagina.

I guess no foreplay, then.

"Condom," I reminded him. I was drunk, but I wasn't that drunk.

"Huh?" he exclaimed. "No, I want to feel you."

I jerked away from him.

"No condom, no sex," I declared.

"Come on, you're on birth control, right? We're fine."

Dios mío! Why does he have to be so stupid?

"No condom, no sex," I just repeated.

"All right!" He gave up. He opened the drawer of his nightstand and retrieved a condom from it. He ripped it open with his teeth and quickly unrolled it on his length.

"Happy?" He asked.

"Very."

And we finally had sex. It was surprisingly quite an enjoyable moment; he did know how to use his dick and he was nice to look at when he was concentrating so hard on making me climax. He managed to make me come despite the lack of foreplay before he emptied himself in the condom.

When he went to the bathroom to pee and dispose of the condom, I got dressed as quickly as possible and left the room before he came back. That was a bitchy move but I couldn't stand staying with the guy any longer. The sex was decent but the person had been thoroughly disappointing. That's what I got for sleeping with first-years.

When I came back downstairs, it was four a. m. and the party was slowly fading. I found Cedric half asleep on a couch.

"Hey Ced," I shook him up.

He groaned in response.

"Come on, let's go to bed."

He moaned again but followed me to his bedroom. I put on his green tee-shirt as pajamas and got comfortable on his bed.

"Where's Sig?" He asked as he removed his pants. "Wasn't she supposed to sleep here too?"

"I saw her go with one of the new guys, she must be in his room."

"And shouldn't you be in the other guy's room?"

"I was, but I didn't feel like staying overnight."

He shrugged.

"Okay, then. Good night, slut!" He affectionately said before slapping my ass and lying down next to me.

* * *

The next morning – more like later in the morning – I woke up with a terrible headache, a sore throat and nausea: I was hungover. I checked my phone, it was two in the afternoon. Cedric was still snoring quietly beside me. I was starving. I got up and headed straight down to the kitchen to eat something. I ran into Spencer, who was sitting at the table, eating a peanut butter sandwich. I decided to make one for myself too.

"Had a good night?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at me, as I sat opposite him.

"A decent one, actually."

"Then why did that one specific pledge of mine tell me he spent the night alone?" He laughed.

"He's a jerk," I replied

"You two made quite the show on that pool table, though. I thought I would've had to separate you before you started taking each other's clothes off."

I smacked his upper arm. "There are like ten naked people per cubic yard at all times in this damn house and you blame me for a few kisses?"

"Chill, I'm not blaming you, I'm just saying you made the temperature rise by a few degrees. Which, I must admit, I enjoyed a lot."

He burst into laughter as I glared at him.

"So," he resumed, "how was our pledge? Does he have what it takes to be one of us?"

"Sexually speaking, he was... okay. Not my greatest night, but nowhere near the worst. He's dumb, though, so I guess he will fit in here perfectly."

"You're so funny," said Spencer sarcastically.

"It was an easy one."

"I was wondering, how many guys from this fraternity have you not had sex with?"

I thought about it for a moment.

"How many pledges do you have this year?"

"Eight."

"Then minus the guy I just slept with last night, I would say... seven."

"You're such a slut!" He laughed.

This time, I punched his arm.

"What? You've just admitted you slept with the entire frat house, this word is highly appropriate!"

"Speak for yourself, how many people did you fuck? I'm pretty sure I saw you getting handsy with that emo dude yesterday."

"Oh we did more than that, trust me." He shot me a conniving wink.

"You're the slut."

"And yet, society will keep applauding me for all my sexual partners, while it will keep berating you for the same thing. Sucks to be a woman, babe."

I groaned. He was right and we both knew it. He didn't get a chance to infuriate me any longer because we heard someone coming down the stairs. It was Sigrid. She looked nervous.

"Oh, Abs, I'm glad you're here!" she said, seeming relieved. "We need to leave. Right now."

"I'm not even dressed," I complained.

"Then go get changed, I'll wait for you here."

"Why do you want to leave so soon? Have breakfast and we'll leave afterwards," I suggested.

"I can't. I can't risk him seeing me there when he wakes up. It would be too awkward."

I understood. I myself had sneaked out of the guy's room right after sex. I speed-walked to Ced's room, put on my clothes in no time, not even bothering to be quiet, and went back to the kitchen.

"You two are so classy," commented Spencer. "Leaving men's rooms before they wake up, what a cool move."

"Shut up, Spence," Sig retorted and he blew her a kiss.

"Let's go, Sigrid," I intervened before he got a chance to say anything else. "Your guy may wake up any second."

It was enough to convince her to leave the house. We took the metro at the nearest stop. As we were both really hungover, we traveled in complete silence, until we finally reached my apartment. The first thing I did once I passed the threshold was filling two glasses with water. I put an aspirin in each of them.

"So?" I asked as our tablets were dissolving. "How was your guy?"

Her cheeks reddened a little, which was so rare that I couldn't miss it.

"Er..." she hesitated. "We... we didn't sleep together, actually."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. I wanted to have a bit of fun but, when things got serious, I... I just panicked. I'm not used to doing this anymore. I was no longer into it so I ran for it when he went to the toilet."

"Where did you sleep, then?"

"In the bathtub on another floor."

I burst into laughter. I was really sorry for her but I couldn't help myself.

"You should have come with Ced and I."

"Oh, never mind. I was too drunk to care anyway."

She started giggling too.

Our tablets were done dissolving. I handed Sig her glass and made a toast.

"To all these crazy nights, may there be a lot more of them."

"Cheers."

"Cheers."

We clinked our glasses together and chugged them.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A/N: Thank you for reading this first chapter, the next one is coming on Wednesday. Please don't forget to vote and/or leave a comment if you enjoyed it. It means a lot to us writers.

Love,
Charlie.