“You’re so tight,” he groaned. “I’m not going to last.”

I squeezed him while dragging my nails down his back. I could feel another orgasm rolling through me. Building, building, building.

We both came together. His body went rigid, and my back arched off the bed. If it was possible to see stars, I did. I wasn’t thinking about calories, consequences, and college. It was just us. It was just Oakley.

Fuck. There was no way this could only happen once. I was addicted.

20

I woke up in Oakley’s bedroom for the second time this semester, only this time, I woke up in the bed, snuggled under the covers, with his arms wrapped around me. And for the second time, I was up before he was. I lay in bed with my eyes closed, savoring the moment for just a minute longer. I knew it was wrong, but it just felt too damn good.

I forced my eyes to open and gently extracted myself from the tangle of limbs and sheets. My parents’ flight was later this morning, and they liked to get there at least an hour and half early, just like the airlines recommended. I mentally calculated what time they needed to get to the airport and what time they would be leaving their hotel, factoring in breakfast. Light was already filtering in through Oakley’s window—holy shit, that window. I had to hustle to get to the hotel.

I got out of the bed as gingerly as I could, trying not to wake Oakley. I got to work collecting all of my clothes from the floor and got dressed in record time, only pausing to give the armchair a nostalgic glance. I decided to go commando since my panties were still completely soaked from last night. I draped them strategically over the chair so that Oakley would see them when he woke up.

I grabbed my purse and looked over at Oakley one last time. He was still dead to the world, snoring softly. Damn, I really envied his ability to sleep that well. Although, now that I was thinking about it, I didn’t wake up once during the night. Must have been all that extra cardio.

I snuck out of the apartment like a walk of shame ninja, closing the door with a soft click. I texted my mom to let her know I was on my way, and to be honest, to gauge whether she was already awake or if I was going to be pounding on the hotel room door, trying to get her up. While I was waiting for her to respond, I called an Uber. My mom replied with a simple thumbs up as I got into the car and started the twenty-minute drive over. Good enough.