Two weeks passed and, like I hoped, the incident between Eric and I had either been completely forgotten or ignored. I prayed that it was the former, but as Eric didn’t seem to be treating me any differently from before, I didn’t particularly care.

I did my best to act business as usual around him, and for the most part I succeeded. That is, unless Gavin was around. And as Vincent had moved out of the dorms and in with his new fiancée the week prior, Gavin was now around a lot.

I couldn’t face him, couldn’t even see Gavin without the feeling of guilt eating me alive. I felt an almost physical pain even being in the same room as him, so like any brave, moral person, I hid my shame, lied my ass off, and ran away every time he was around.

My only saving grace was that Gavin wasn’t actually moving in. Even though he could have easily transferred rooms and he practically lived here now anyway, I’m assuming the guys didn’t want to give up their hanky-panky time. (See On-Campus Housing Contract Code of Conduct rule number twenty-seven: “Engaging in sexual relations of any kind with the cohabitates in your dorm suit is strictly prohibited.” Yeah. That rule.)

Ok, so I lied. Things were weird, and though Eric didn’t seem to know why and Gavin certainly didn’t, I was definitely letting my drunken sexcapades the night of my birthday affect my relationship with both Eric and Gavin.

“Lain!” Julia’s voice broke me out of my thoughts and I turned to look at her.

“What?”

“Did you and Eric have a fight or something?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“Because you’ve practically been living here the past week or so and you only do that when you’re running form something in your dorm.”

“That was a big spider!” I exclaimed defensively. “How do you know it didn’t come back and that’s why I’m hiding here?”

Julia scoffed. “Because an eight-legged roommate doesn’t make you examine your shoes every time Eric is in the vicinity.”

I couldn’t tell her. I knew I couldn’t. I had decided that I wouldn’t tell anyone. I would leave no evidence of my indiscretion.

So I told her the next best thing.

“I confessed to Eric the night of my twenty-first birthday and now I can’t look at him,” I blurted.

Julia just stared at me slack-jawed for a second before screaming “you did what?!?!”

“I was drunk. He was drunk. We were sharing secrets again and it just kind of… came out.”

“You confessed to your taken-as-Liam-Neeson’s-daughter and gay-as-a-drag-queen-at-pride roommate?! What did he say?”

“Nothing,” I said honestly. “He didn’t say anything.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I ran and neither of us have said anything about it since.” Again, an honest answer.

Another moment of silence passed before Julia responded in true Julia form, “Damn hon. If you’re hung up on Eric of all people, you seriously need to get laid.”

“It hasn’t been that long.” Damn, I’m killing it with the honesty thing today.

“Lain, you haven’t wet your beak since school started and you had to say adios to that summer hunk you left on the beach in Miami.”

We both sighed.

“He was a stud,” I lamented dreamily.

“I know,” Julia said. “I saw the pictures you lucky bitch. I want one.”

***

As I lay in my bed that night, I thought of my “summer hunk,” as Julia so eloquently called him. His real name though, was Xander. No last names given. It wasn’t that kind of summer fling.

I had met Xander earlier that year while I was spending the majority of my summer vacation visiting with my grandma in Miami. He had caught my eye playing beach volleyball, as any good summer romance starts.

He must have noticed me watching because he caught up with me after the game and we got talking. Xander was a twenty-three year old business major from Tampa spending the summer housesitting for a friend.

God, he was gorgeous. Maybe only five-eight or so, but with wide shoulders and a fit body tanned to perfection from all the time we spent on the beach that summer. His brown hair was a little longer on top, a surprisingly trendy hairstyle for someone that spent little to no time doing anything more than washing it. His eye though. His eyes were my favorite part. They were round, slightly down-turned and a warm chocolate brown color that just made me melt.

Two single, twenty-somethings with plenty of spare time and an empty beach-front house to use as a hideaway? Anyone could have guessed where that was heading.

Knowing Heather had gone home for the weekend, and I had the room all to myself, I slipped my hand into my sweatpants and panties to stroke my wetting pussy as I thought back to one of my favorite memories from the summer.



Xander easily carried me, my legs wrapped around his waist, arms wrapped around his neck as we kissed. His strength wasn’t the problem though. The problem was the porch steps. Then the lock on the door. Then the door itself.

After all the problems were handled with minimal interruption of our physical contact, Xander kicked the door closed behind us before he practically slammed me against the nearest wall.

Fuck I loved when he did that. It was always such a turn on when he got a little rough.

The support of the wall allowed him a little more freedom with his hands so he could untie every string holding my bikini in place until he was finally able to toss the bits of fabric to the floor. His hands returned to squeezing my ass as he ground his growing and stiffening cock into my warm and soaking wet pussy.

I planned on giving as good as I got, so I grabbed onto the hair at the back of his neck and pulled until his neck was better exposed to me. Then I bit down on the little spot where his neck met his shoulders.