Dry. That’s my first thought, as I slowly crack my eyes open. So fucking dry. I drag a hand across my face, not hard, but my fingers scrape my skin and cause me to wince. What the fuck happened last night?

Pushing myself to sit up, I squint at my surroundings. I’m in a carbon copy of my dorm room, but it’s definitely not my room. A black and grey poster of a band I don’t recognize is stretched across the far wall. The small student desk is littered with Kit Kat wrappers and empty cans of Red Bull.

A feeling of unease settles low in my belly, as I smack my lips and the taste of sour beer floods my mouth. I don’t even like beer.

As I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my muscles scream in protest. My body is sore. Tired. And it feels like I just had sex. Rough sex.

No. No. No.

My worst suspicions are confirmed, as I dodge the used condom thrown carelessly on the floor. Bending at the waist, I grab my panties, jeans, top, and shove them on as fast as possible. I need to get out of here before—

The door opens, and it’s like a freight train steamrolling through my head. Taking a deep breath, I bring my eyes to meet the guy standing in front of me. I don’t recognize him at all; he’s a total stranger. “You’re up.” His voice is unfamiliar, and I will myself to remember something, anything, from last night.

Flashes, vague images pop to life, but they’re fuzzy, as though the dial on the camera has yet to focus.

Panic must be etched across my features, because he holds his hand up in surrender. “Chill.” He takes a baby step forward as I take one back. “How much of last night do you remember?”

My eyes cast down as a wave of humiliation stains my cheeks pink. Nothing. “Bits and pieces.”

He nods. “Yeah, me, too. I guess we were pretty wasted. After leaving Hoozier House, it’s blank.”

The party. Yes. A flash of recognition lights up my brain. Us. Dancing together. Him being a little handsy. Me encouraging it.

What the fuck have I done?

Up until this point, I’ve slept with a total of one person, and I made Tod wait for nearly seven months before I was ready. Now? I jump into bed with a total stranger who could have hurt me, who could have given me a venereal disease, whose name I don’t even know.

I’m spinning out, as the enormity of my bad decision hits full force. Suddenly, there’s not enough breath to satisfy my greedy lungs, and I’m this close to vomiting.

I jerk my attention back to him, and his eyes are wide and confused, probably because there’s a random, hungover girl in his dorm room having a nervous breakdown. I’m guessing this is more than he signed up for.

“What’s your name?” I snap, angry with him, even angrier with myself for having been so stupid.

“Jason.” He dips his head, scratches the back of his neck. “Yours?”

I shouldn’t be offended—for crying out loud, I just asked him the same question—but I feel cheap, used, disposable. “I have to go.” The words rush past my lips as I move toward the door.

“So, no round two?”

My eyes widen, and if looks could kill, he’d be a goner, but only after I made him suffer for his douchebag comment.

He lifts his hands apologetically as though to ward me off. “Sorry, sorry. That was a dick thing to say.”

“This never happened.” I seethe.

“Works for me. See ya around.”

“Hopefully not.” I don’t quite catch his response, because I slam the door in his face.

I’ve not even made it to the corner before I double over, hands on my knees, and wretch. Dry, painful heaves that punish my already weak body, but I welcome the pain, consider it my penance for my poor decision.

And in that moment, I make a vow: no more drinking in excess, no more random parties, no more blackout one-night stands. I’m done experimenting. I’ve had enough.

Jesse could change all he wants, but I’m perfectly happy with who I am.

You deserve better than this, Riley, I remind myself.

Now, I just have to prove it.