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Authors: Sarina Bowen
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stairs. I was only on the third step or so when I realized that the star of several major motion pictures had been the one to hear me announce that the condom broke.
Shoot me.
At least the walk of shame was only two flights of stairs. I took a moment in our hallway bathroom. When I washed my hands, I caught my reflection in the mirror. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the face I saw there was the same one I’d seen yesterday. The non-virgin Rafe looked the same as the other one. Only slightly less happy.
Looking myself square in the eyes, I mouthed the word I was thinking. “ Idiota .”
It was one thing to get taken in by Alison’s deception. That had been dumb enough. But then I’d gone and compounded it by sleeping with Bella. I’d practically inflicted myself on that girl. It didn’t excuse a thing that she’d wanted me, too. I knew better than to take that risk.
Yesterday morning? I was a stand-up guy, trying to do right by his girlfriend. Twenty-four hours later I was just some jerk who’d taken off his clothes for the first person who smiled at him. I let out a long, shaky sigh and tried to compose myself.
Leaving the bathroom, I braced myself for questions from Bickley. He was probably sitting around in the common room, wondering whether or not to go running without me.
When I opened the door to our suite I found Mat instead of Bickley. He was perched on our window seat, smoking a cigarette. At eight in the morning. His eyes flicked toward mine before dropping again. I shut the door, waving my hand in front of my face. The room already smelled of smoke. Dios . “Could you at least open the window?”
“Don’t ride me, bitch.”
“Nice,” I grunted, taking two steps forward and face-planting onto the sofa. Everything was just so wrong. My head was pounding, and my mouth was dry. I had an empty feeling in my gut. Lying there, I sucked down a lung full of cigarette smoke along with my own shame.
At least I didn’t have to explain myself. Mat was too prickly to bother asking personal questions. Bickley and I hadn’t met him until move-in day. With his big frame and excessive tattoos, Mat resembled a TV commando. The first day we’d walked into our assigned room, Bickley and I had found Mat sitting on a camo duffel bag that looked far too authentic to come from a store. When we greeted him, he’d barely looked up from the course schedule in his hands. And were those dog tags around his neck?
Yes, they were. Mat was a naval vet, and although he was a sophomore like Bickley and I, he was three years older.
We’d gotten off on the wrong foot because Bickley started in right away, trying to gain advantage. “So, we’ve got a single and a double,” my roommate had begun.
“The single is mine,” Mat said without a glance. “Says so right on the room assignment.”
He wasn’t wrong. The sheet we’d gotten in the mail had read: Room A: Mat Douglas. Room B: Rafael Santiago, William Gilchrist Bickley .
“We should trade off,” Bickley had argued. “Everyone will receive one third of the year in the single. That’s how my brother and his mates did it when they were here.”
“That’s not going to work,” Mat had said.
“Why not?” Bickley had pressed. “You’d have the single for three months. Then I’d have a turn. And then Rafe.”
Mat shook his head. “In the first place, I just spent three years on a submarine sharing a room that size with five other guys. So I’m due for some space. But trust me. You don’t want me as a roommate during those three months when it would have been your man Rafe’s turn.”
“Says who?”
A smirk crept across Mat’s angular face. “My boyfriend is stationed in Groton, about an hour away. He visits. We get naked. I’m just assuming you don’t want to watch.”
Bickley maintained a half-decent poker face, but he paled beneath his freckles. “So you’re…”
“I’m what?” Mat grinned, enjoying the discomfort he’d
Shoot me.
At least the walk of shame was only two flights of stairs. I took a moment in our hallway bathroom. When I washed my hands, I caught my reflection in the mirror. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the face I saw there was the same one I’d seen yesterday. The non-virgin Rafe looked the same as the other one. Only slightly less happy.
Looking myself square in the eyes, I mouthed the word I was thinking. “ Idiota .”
It was one thing to get taken in by Alison’s deception. That had been dumb enough. But then I’d gone and compounded it by sleeping with Bella. I’d practically inflicted myself on that girl. It didn’t excuse a thing that she’d wanted me, too. I knew better than to take that risk.
Yesterday morning? I was a stand-up guy, trying to do right by his girlfriend. Twenty-four hours later I was just some jerk who’d taken off his clothes for the first person who smiled at him. I let out a long, shaky sigh and tried to compose myself.
Leaving the bathroom, I braced myself for questions from Bickley. He was probably sitting around in the common room, wondering whether or not to go running without me.
When I opened the door to our suite I found Mat instead of Bickley. He was perched on our window seat, smoking a cigarette. At eight in the morning. His eyes flicked toward mine before dropping again. I shut the door, waving my hand in front of my face. The room already smelled of smoke. Dios . “Could you at least open the window?”
“Don’t ride me, bitch.”
“Nice,” I grunted, taking two steps forward and face-planting onto the sofa. Everything was just so wrong. My head was pounding, and my mouth was dry. I had an empty feeling in my gut. Lying there, I sucked down a lung full of cigarette smoke along with my own shame.
At least I didn’t have to explain myself. Mat was too prickly to bother asking personal questions. Bickley and I hadn’t met him until move-in day. With his big frame and excessive tattoos, Mat resembled a TV commando. The first day we’d walked into our assigned room, Bickley and I had found Mat sitting on a camo duffel bag that looked far too authentic to come from a store. When we greeted him, he’d barely looked up from the course schedule in his hands. And were those dog tags around his neck?
Yes, they were. Mat was a naval vet, and although he was a sophomore like Bickley and I, he was three years older.
We’d gotten off on the wrong foot because Bickley started in right away, trying to gain advantage. “So, we’ve got a single and a double,” my roommate had begun.
“The single is mine,” Mat said without a glance. “Says so right on the room assignment.”
He wasn’t wrong. The sheet we’d gotten in the mail had read: Room A: Mat Douglas. Room B: Rafael Santiago, William Gilchrist Bickley .
“We should trade off,” Bickley had argued. “Everyone will receive one third of the year in the single. That’s how my brother and his mates did it when they were here.”
“That’s not going to work,” Mat had said.
“Why not?” Bickley had pressed. “You’d have the single for three months. Then I’d have a turn. And then Rafe.”
Mat shook his head. “In the first place, I just spent three years on a submarine sharing a room that size with five other guys. So I’m due for some space. But trust me. You don’t want me as a roommate during those three months when it would have been your man Rafe’s turn.”
“Says who?”
A smirk crept across Mat’s angular face. “My boyfriend is stationed in Groton, about an hour away. He visits. We get naked. I’m just assuming you don’t want to watch.”
Bickley maintained a half-decent poker face, but he paled beneath his freckles. “So you’re…”
“I’m what?” Mat grinned, enjoying the discomfort he’d
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