I took a deep breath as she started to move past me. This was it. It was happening.

“Is that Graham Walker,” I heard her say as she approached the table. The sentence echoed in my head for days after that, bounced around inside my brain until I was light-headed, until I couldn’t quite see straight.

When I turned around, Graham’s sweet face appeared from behind a banister, smiling and carefree, and I blacked out for a moment. I couldn’t think or speak. But I felt myself moving toward him like a magnet, until I was standing beside Lena as they hugged. This was it. My life here was finally about to start.

I shook his hand, soft and thick as Lena introduced us. “This is my coworker Eliza,” she said. “It’s literally a Yale reunion in here.” She moved on to the next person, but Graham’s eyes stayed on me.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “Here—” He slid down the booth as I slipped in next to him, feeling small and fragile next to his rower’s frame, the muscles I could tell existed underneath his effortlessly cuffed button-down. I sat on the edge of the booth, half my butt perched off it for fear of getting too close to him.

Lena ordered tequila shots to celebrate their college reunion and they all reminisced about the epic rugby house parties and getting laid in the stacks and that one professor who got fired for having an affair with a student even though everyone knew it wasn’t his first—“or last,” Graham joked.

With each drink Graham and I drew closer, gravitating toward each other like it was inevitable—and it was, I’d made sure it was—until our legs were touching. Until the hair on his arms tickled mine. Until he told me he worked in finance. Until he told me he was from Vermont. Until Lena mentioned I wanted to fuck the bartender. Until I noticed Graham stiffen, uncomfortable with the thought. Until I brushed my hand against his thigh, long enough for him to realize it wasn’t an accident. Until he put his hand on my bare knee. Until he and I locked eyes when I stood, my heart racing, knowing exactly what I needed to do to lock him in. He likes a bad girl. I am a bad girl.

I didn’t wait in the single-person bathroom more than thirty seconds before the door inched open just enough for him to slip inside and lock it behind him. We stood a foot apart, staring at each other, my heart rate rising with each pulse, the sensation between my legs exploding as I looked at him.

When we kissed I felt it over my entire body.

When he slipped his hand into my pants, my knees almost gave out.

When I came, the image of our wedding was the only thing I was thinking about.