He was clutching a towel and taking selfies in someone’s bedroom. The pink bedding hinted that it belonged to a girl. I took in the motivational poster on the wall and then gasped when I saw a purple vibrator left on the nightstand. Mother. Fucking. Shelby. He was in my apartment. He was with my roommate.

Guess she found batteries for her vibrator.

I clicked through his story and paused when he playfully dropped the towel to cup his junk. I saw a flash of peen. Like, full-on flesh baton. It was quick, but there was no denying Thor’s hammer hanging out there for the world to see. I skipped back to double-check.

Yep. That’s his dick.

His massive elephant dick.

It was only a split second, but I knew that girls could screenshot slips like it was one of those fucking shoot out duels in the Wild West. His cock was probably already in spank banks all over campus.

Oh my lanta. Oakley was a sexy bastard. The way he bit his lip had me flushing. I skipped to the next post and frowned.

Headed to Longhorn Sports Bar for drinks.

I closed my phone and started heading out of the Athletics building and toward the bus stop. This wasn’t bad. Leaked nudes sometimes made a career—Kim Kardashian was proof of that. But this didn’t exactly promote the good wholesome vibe the school wanted.

I quickly ran through options, tapping my foot on the concrete and waiting for the bus to arrive. The quicker I got to him, the better.

3

It had been four months since I’d set foot in a college bar. I braced myself for the memories I knew would hit me like a punch to the gut. Outside, the Austin city lights illuminated the grime-filled sidewalk. I stared at the entrance for a moment, mustering up the courage to put my big girl panties on and waltz inside like the bad bitch I was.

It took ten minutes for me to feel like said bad bitch. I was a medium bitch. An over-easy bitch.

The second I walked through the front door, the stench of perfume and beer assaulted my senses. I curled my lip, and my stomach rumbled at the sight of plates filled to the brim with bar food. Hungry college students who weren’t worried about their slowing metabolism were devouring appetizers dripping with bubbling grease. I nearly drooled at the sight of a pitcher of beer and nachos. Fucking hell, I hated my diet.

This place was my ultimate weakness. Just a few months ago, I would have confidently stepped up to the bar and ordered a whiskey sour. Now, I was trembling.