Angel and Theresa got out their laptops and divided a list of terms for which they needed more information. How in the hell did people research before Google? Unless you had a good librarian, it must have taken months to find what you needed. She was trying to figure out the difference between electrocardiography and electrocorticography when a notification bubble floated across the middle of her screen, and then another. Collecting facts might have taken forever back in the day, but at least students weren’t distracted by random bullshit like Instagram pings.

Gabriela had sent her a text, and Latisha had sent a message to her Facebook inbox. I do not have time for those gossip hounds right now. She ignored the notifications and moved on to electromyography. But then Gabriela sent an email.

The subject line said, “Look at this asap.” Gabriela’s message didn’t say much except “Brace yourself,” and included a link to a YouTube video.

Next to her, Theresa let out a tiny gasp, almost a hiccup. Angel swiveled her head. Her neck creaked. Theresa’s computer screen was on BuzzFeed. The banner dominating the page read, “The Duke hit a screaming home run with his ex-girlfriend, and we’ve got the sex tape to prove it. Click here.”

She turned back to her own computer, to Gabriela’s email. Angel hovered the mouse over the link she’d sent. Theresa, with big eyes, shook her head. Duke continued scratching notes in the margin of the essay, unaware of their nonverbal communication.

Angel couldn’t help herself; she clicked.

She hit Play.

“Oh, you like that, baby?” Regina moaned, head thrown back.

On the screen, Duke couldn’t answer. His mouth was full of flesh. Regina straddled him, writhing up and down. They were having sex on what looked to be a tall ottoman in front of a bank of windows.

Angel hit Pause. Regina stopped, halfway up the man pole Angel had enjoyed the night before. Regina’s vagina was again making an appearance, for the second day in a row. WTF.

“What’s that?” Duke asked from across the table, a half-smile twisting his lips. “You girls watchin’ porn?”

“You. And Regina.”

“No.”

Theresa jumped up, swept her books and computer into her bag, her pink face pinker than usual. “I gotta go. Thanks for studying with me.” Without another word, she rushed into the book stacks.

Angel did not make eye contact with Duke, only shoved her computer at him. His eyes widened.

“No way,” he whispered, a low sound of horror. “I cannot believe this is happening.” He shut the computer and slid it back toward her. “Angel…”

Angel blazed at him. “What, Duke? What do you want me to say?”

“That was last year.”

“I’m not sure that matters.” Her stomach ached, a thousand razors slicing into her intestines.