7. Maggie

CHAPTER 7

MAGGIE

Dear St. Augustine, what have I done?

I don’t remember everything from my years at Catholic school, but I clearly recall that St. Augustine is the Patron Saint of bad decisions.

Don’t get me wrong, sex with Gym Shorts Hottie was amazing.

Like, life-affirming.

Like, so-good-it-doesn’t-seem-real.

And that’s exactly why it was a bad decision.

What was I thinking?! How did The Year of No Dicks start out with The Biggest and Best Dick of Them All?!

Ugh. I will have time to obsess over my stupidity on my walk of shame home. Right now, though, I need to peel myself off this very hot man without waking him.

God, I want to wake him.

But no! I won’t. Because that would be another bad decision.

We’re nearly glued to each other, but either he sleeps like the dead, or I wore him out because JT doesn’t stir.

His dick does, though. Even I have to admit that’s pretty damn impressive. It’s also another reason I need to get the hell out of here. I swear his dick is magnetized or something. It’s physically hard to leave him in this tub.

But I have no other choice.

My ankle is swollen, and my leg is dotted with bruises, but I’ll live. I dress as quickly and quietly as I can before easing the towel rack from under the doorknob and letting myself out. I close the door and send a silent prayer—to St. Joseph, thank you very much—that he can get a little more sleep before the whole house wakes up. I’m guessing he’s a brother of this frat, but he must not live here since he didn’t know his way around last night.

My watch battery is red, but there’s enough juice to let me know it’s nearly nine a.m. I’m not too worried, though. The party was still raging when I fell asleep on JT, so I’m fairly confident I can sneak out of here undetected. The stairs seem like a gamble. Sure, they must lead to the front door, but there’s a chance that somebody’s up early grabbing breakfast. Or maybe they haven’t gone to bed yet. And I can walk on my ankle, but if I try those stairs, there’s a fair chance I’ll land on my ass.

Slowly, I turn down a hall that looks vaguely familiar and… yes! We were here last night. There was a girl yelling about a dead jellyfish, I think? All I know is this is the way we came in, so it must be my way out.

I’m going slowly to ensure I don’t do any permanent damage to my ankle. JT’s probably right, and it’ll be fine in a day or two. But it’s tender, so I’m babying it and taking my time.

Until the music starts blasting.

Someone upstairs must be on a mission to wake the house or maybe even the dead. They’re blasting heavy metal from every speaker and that’s my cue to hustle.

I have no doubt JT will wake up and come looking for me. He’s just that nice of a guy. I’m not dumb enough to think he wants more than what we had last night, but he seems chivalrous enough to make sure I get home okay.

And that’s not a conversation I can have.

It was hard enough to resist him and his magnetic dick this morning. If I see him again, I’m not sure I can.

Getting involved with JT is not an option, so that means I need to get out of here.

Luckily, the coast is clear, and I slip out the back door and carefully make my way to the picnic bench JT sat me on last night. And no, I’m not getting sentimental about a freaking picnic bench.

That would be ridiculous, and that’s not me.

I am logical.

Level-headed.

No, I’m serious.

The last twelve hours of my life were a total aberration.

I don’t have sex with strangers in bathtubs.

I’m not impulsive. I don’t take risks.

I’m not just saying that in an “I’m a cautious kinda gal” way. I mean it literally. I’m majoring in Actuarial Science. My future job description is risk calculation. I’m going to get paid for figuring out where the pitfalls are and systematically avoiding them.

I’ll be sure to keep the last night’s activities off my resume.

I tap my watch and send a quick text to Viv. She’s always been an early riser and I’m hoping to god that hasn’t changed. The sooner I can get out of here and back to my regular life, the better. No matter how incredible it was, I need to put last night behind me.

Viv : Yep. I’m showered and everything. But I can’t find the coffee. :( Boo.

Viv : I found some vodka as I was unpacking. Bloody Marys beat coffee every time!

Viv : Dammit. The bottle’s empty.

Viv : This calls for a coffee run. I’ll pick you up in five. Does Coach want a coffee? Perhaps a bagel? Maybe a muffin? Or …me, naked on a plate with blueberries and whipped cream?

Maggie : EWWWWWWWW

Maggie : Oh my god, what is wrong with you?

Viv : Nothing. It’s not my fault your uncle is hot.

Maggie : Again…EWWWWWWWW. Also, he’s married.

Viv : Right, right. So…bagel?

Maggie : I’m not at Uncle Hudson’s.

Viv : … Is this a guessing game? I can’t play guessing games until I’m on my second cup of coffee. And I’m currently on cup zero, so…

Maggie : Remember how we went to that party at Kappa last night?

Viv : Yeah…

Maggie : I never left.

A few minutes later, I see Viv’s car. Thankfully, I also see a staircase, which means I don’t need to try to scale this hill again and risk twisting my other ankle. As soon as she sees me limping up the steps, though, she’s out of the car and offering to carry me.

I can’t help but laugh. “I appreciate the gesture, but your car is about eight feet away. I think I can make it.”

Viv rolls her eyes at me and holds the door open before gingerly tucking me into the seat and helping me get settled. She waits a whole twelve seconds—the amount of time it takes her to round the car and get buckled in her own seat—before she starts laying into me.

“You were limping! What in the world did you do? A dismount off the beer pong table?”

“Trust me, this is definitely not an athletic injury,” I say.

“Holy shit, you fucked up your ankle during sex? I don’t know whether to be proud or horrified.”

“Oh my God, Viv. No, it was before the sex. I didn’t—oh, shit.” I guess my time in Cali made me temporarily forget that breathing the same air as Viv McDonald is like taking a truth serum. I don’t know why that’s the case, but it definitely is. Maybe since Viv has no filter, she just disables everyone else’s automatically. Whatever the reason, I’m physically incapable of keeping a secret for more than a minute around my best friend.

Viv’s squealing with delight and clapping her hands, all while making a left turn on a light that’s been yellow so long it’s basically orange.

I shake my head as I realize that if anyone were to examine the last twelve hours of my life, they might wonder how the hell I’m majoring in risk management.

Honestly, I’ve been friends with Viv since preschool, so I’ve been identifying, avoiding, and mitigating risks for almost twenty years.

“You had the sexy sex!” My best friend is practically singing as she steers her car into a covered parking garage.

I’m not super familiar with campus just yet, but I know Viv’s dorm is nowhere near here.

She opens my door and holds out her hand. I’ll follow Viv just about anywhere, but I need answers first. “What are we doing at the library? Classes haven’t even started yet. Oh, my god. Tell me this is the punchline for your sexy sex joke. You’re not going to haul me into the reference section and pull out books with a bunch of diagrams, are you? Because yes, I’ve been in a dry spell, but?—”

“A dry spell? Maggie, you were in the damn desert.” Viv gives it to me straight as we make our way slowly through the empty lot.

She’s right, so I don’t comment. There’s not much to say. After my ex-boyfriend shattered my faith in humanity, I wasn’t really feeling any kind of desire other than a deep and burning need to punch him in his stupid face.

That’s part of the reason I was happy to go along last night. It’s been way too long since I even felt like flirting, let alone kissing a guy. I figured I was safe, that I had some sort of immunity to sexy party boys bestowed upon me by the Patron Saint of Asshole Exes. Come on, there has to be one.

Did I think for a second that I’d end up having the best sex of my entire life in a borrowed bathtub? No. No, I did not.

Nothing about my encounter with JT was expected, and that’s another reason that I needed to make my escape. He slips past my well-built defenses way too easily, and that’s not something I can afford to risk.

We bypass a staircase and head right to the elevators. Viv pushes the down arrow before tapping out a message on her phone.

“What are you up to? Is that some secret library code? Are they going to let us in the back door?”

The elevator doors open, and we step inside. Viv pushes another button and turns to me. “Yes, the library is open. No, we are not going in. But if there’s a secret entrance, I guarantee Josie Reynolds knows about it. She’s cool. We had art history together last year. She would totally sneak us into like a rare book exhibit or something, but that’s not where we’re headed, my lovely. You need medical attention. I know, I know, it’s just twisted. You’re probably right. But just to be on the safe side, I texted Mike, one of the trainers. He’s going to meet us at the gym in an hour.”

“Viv, I’m fine. I need ice, ibuprofen, and a few hours of daytime drama while I wait for my ankle to stop throbbing.”

She nods. “You’ll get all of that, and probably an x-ray. But first, a quick change, and then coffee.”

“Coffee?” I ask, as she steers me into a restroom and thrusts a small tote bag at my feet. Viv and I passed boundaries somewhere around the sixth grade, so she helps me out of her dress and into the comfy clothes I wore to her place last night. I feel infinitely better in these than I did in that rumpled dress, and I’m grateful she thought to bring them. When I gingerly slip my feet into my slides, I’m once again grateful for my bestie’s presence of mind.

“Yes, coffee. Also known as Nectar of the Gods. Haven’t you heard of it?”

“Hmmm…it does sound familiar…”

“Trust me,” she says, laughing and looping her arm into mine as we slowly leave the restroom, “you’re going to love it. It’s hot bean water, but it’s going to be all the rage, I’m telling you. Besides, I didn’t just bring you to my favorite place on Earth to drink sugar-laden caffeine. I also brought you here because you have had the sexy, sexy sex. And I need all the details.”

“Are you telling me you didn’t have the sexy sex last night with your boy Lanza? Because that definitely seemed to be on the agenda as he whisked you out of the party and back to his place.”

I waggle my brows at Viv, and though she’s smiling, there’s an undercurrent of tension just below the surface. “Of course I did. He’s my hookup. So, we hooked up. It’s what we do.”

I slow to a stop on the sidewalk, which isn’t hard to do, seeing as we’re going at a snail’s pace. “It is what you do. I know more about Jake Lanza’s anatomy than his doctor does, and that’s just from the stories you told me last spring. So…what aren’t you telling me?”

Viv shrugs and we start walking again. “There’s nothing to tell, honest. Jake and I have great sex together, but that’s all it is. Neither one of us wants more. I certainly don’t. I never did. I’m the one who suggested the no-strings thing. So why did I have an internal mini freak out when I saw him locking lips with one of the girls from Sigma this morning? I have no idea. Because Jake is just a dick with a very hot body attached. And who needs a dick, anyway? I mean, they’re great and all, but they’re not, like, wardrobe staples, you know? ”

I don’t know. But I am intrigued, so I nod like I know.

“They’re accessories, really. Like a Chloe bag. Fun to show off, and the envy of half the girls at every party. It’s a great bag, but it’s not an everyday bag, you know? It’s the kind you trot out at weddings or fancy dinners, or when you just need to feel pretty. But your Lulu belt bag? She’s an everyday bag. She’s always there for you.”

“Like a best friend?” I ask, trying to follow her train of thought.

Viv shakes her head as we enter the coffee shop. “No, more like a vibrator.”

And, of course, the place goes silent the second we step in, and my bestie practically shouts the word vibrator across the room.

I’ve never been to Drip, but it looks just the way I pictured it in my mind. Viv loves this place, though I suspect that’s true for most of the student body and the faculty. My uncle raves about their toffee crunch macchiato, and I know Viv gets her caffeine fix here daily.

We step into line, and I scan the menu. I like coffee that doesn’t taste at all like coffee, so I’m deciding between an iced white mocha and a frozen caramel delight when I realize Viv’s no longer beside me. She’s leaning against the counter with a dreamy look in her eye—the look of love. And it’s directed at the coconut milk flat white that’s just been placed in front of her.

Living up to his Best Barista Ever title, Viv’s friend Theo fixes my drink and brings it over to the table Viv found for us. Soon enough, we’re settled in, and I’ve got my leg propped up on a chair and an ice bag—courtesy of Theo—resting on my ankle.

“So…are you going to give me any of the sexy sex details?” Viv asks, taking a bite of her muffin.

“That depends,” I hedge. “Are you going to share?”

I steal a bite of her muffin in the hopes that it will distract her from her probe into my recently resurrected sex life. Besides, the comeback was short-lived. Earth-shattering and glorious, but short-lived.

I didn’t move back to Bainbridge, Maryland looking for love, or even lust. I came here to hide out and heal from the drama of last school year. I came to get to know my Uncle Hudson better, and to earn my degree. This isn’t home anymore; it’s just a stopping point. I need to keep my eyes on the future and away from distracting memories of Gym Shorts Hottie. God, I never even got his last name. Or his first, really. JT stands for what? John Taylor? Jacob Tyler? Josiah Thaddeus?

I shake my head and take a fortifying sip of my iced white mocha. JT’s name doesn’t matter because I’ll never see him again. Our majors are totally different, and though this campus isn’t huge, it’s not tiny, either. Besides, my experience with the opposite sex has taught me this much: if it’s not right in front of their faces, it’s not on their minds. For all I know, JT’s like his buddy Jake. He’s forgotten me already and moved on to the next flavor of the week.

That shouldn’t bother me at all. And it doesn’t. Nope, not even a little bit.