I woke the next morning with a faint pounding in the back of my head. Scrubbing at my face, I glanced down to find myself twisted in the sheets. I sighed and stretched, feeling sore in a wide, new array of places. Right then, as I trailed my fingers tracing circles in the softness of the fabric, the fog lifted and my less than moral actions from last night combusted in my memory. I slowly turned to see the handsome stranger from last night soundly asleep beside me. Well, at least I didn’t have rose-tinted glasses. The man was definitely what Taylor would call “fine.” He had a perfectly chiseled face, muscles that were rock hard and well sculpted, and big hands. Their size matched up with another large member on his divine body...

I tore the sheet off me and sat up in bed, startled to find I was wearing nothing but my birthday suit. Here I was in all my naked glory. I looked around for my clothing. To my horror, I saw my dress was on the floor in multiple pieces. Jenson had apparently shredded it. In a frantic panic, I found a large New England Red Bulls jersey and tossed it over my head. I couldn’t wear just this jersey, even though it was longer than that flimsy fabric I was wearing last night.

I just needed to get out of there. I quickly went to the bathroom to make sure I didn’t look like a morning after nightmare. I found a new toothbrush tucked in a drawer.

I finished my teeth and ran a brush through my hair, thinking it looked especially wild this morning. I grabbed a lock and pulled it across my nose, taking a whiff and expecting to find the scent of stale cigarette smoke.

Instead, I was hit with a wave of heady arousal.

Notes of leather and spice filled my nostrils. Ice-blue eyes. A reckless mop of dark hair.

Oh God.

“What did I do?” I squeaked before tracing my lips with my fingertips, feeling slightly bruised from too much kissing. I didn't think I'd had that much to drink, but apparently the shots and the music and everything about him had gone to my head. Snapshots of last night flooded me. I didn't do things like this, impersonal sex was never on my agenda, what was I thinking?

“Shit.”

I ran out of there like a bat out of hell, with nothing on but a soccer jersey.

Damn. Shit. Fuck.

When I got home, I saw Taylor sitting at the breakfast nook with a cup of coffee in her hand and a smug smile on her face.

“So, you look like you had a fun night. I am digging the new dress. It may be a bit shorter than the previous apparel you were donning.”

“I was a little drunk last night, I guess,” I offered lamely.

“I would say so considering you didn’t get home till two minutes ago.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember what you did last night, Little Miss Responsible.” Her eyes grew wide when I didn’t reply. “Oh my God! This is rich! You just had your first one-night stand and you don’t even remember it!” she squealed, jumping up and down and clapping her hands like a poor excuse for a cheerleader.

“Taylor!” I sent her the angriest frown I could muster. “It’s not funny.”

“Well…little sis of mine…are you sore, ya know,” her eyes darted down, “down there?”

My eyes widened in horror, and I stopped to actually consider her question. I shifted my thighs back and forth, trying to ignore the aching abdominals and bruised glutes to focus on my vagina.

“Oh God.” I moved a hand over my mouth, a definite unfamiliar pinch from somewhere down deep inside.

“You did!” she shrieked again, making me cover both of my ears.

“Shut up! The neighbors will hear,” I seethed. “Now what do I do? I’ve never done this before. What’s the protocol?”

“What do you mean?” She turned her head in confusion.

“Well, I mean, will I never see him again? I feel like such a whore.” I suddenly had the urge to shower away the shame. Did I regret last night with Jenson? No, I guess I couldn’t if I wasn’t even quite clear on it yet, but that didn’t stop the guilt of the one-night stand from eating at me. “I don’t know how you do this all the time.”

“Hey, hooker. Not all the time.”

“Did you give him your number?”

“Um…I don’t really remember.”

“You’re a classy one. First night out and you get yourself in this kind of trouble,” she teased.

“Well, what about you? Where did you end up last night?” I countered.

“Right here, thank you very much. I was home earlier than normal.”

“Oh?” I knew there was more coming. There was always more coming with my sister.

“And Luc.” I heard the smile in her sing-song reply.

“You brought him back to our place? Now he knows where we live!”

“Hey! I got Luc’s number. I’m a pro, remember?”

I growled, unable to form any other intelligent reply. I stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind me.

I returned to my room and pulled out my customary uniform of leggings and an oversized tee before jumping in the shower to wash away last night’s shame. After soaping up and rinsing off, I headed back for my room, spotting the clutch I’d used last night. I rifled through the contents, hoping it would jog my memory.

My phone, wallet—cards all still intact—ChapStick, keys, and a folded note.

A note?

I flipped it over in my hands and read the chicken scratch.

555-3434

His phone number.

“Damn,” I said. This required I make a move. I didn’t have time for more, no time for dating. I had to keep my head in the game if I was going to graduate with honors.

I shoved the note back into the clutch, burying it where I wouldn’t have to be reminded of him. I stretched, falling back on the pillows and burrowing into the warmth of my blankets. My eyelids felt like they were weighted down with lead, the drinks from last night still pulsing through my bloodstream as a hangover took hold. I covered my head with a pillow and succumbed to sweet sleep, the only escape from him.

“Bethany!” My sister’s scream shattered the precious cloud of sleep I’d been floating in the last few hours. I launched out of bed and down the hallway, my heart slamming against my rib cage expecting to find god knows what when I finally reached the living room.

“So, Jenson, anything you want to say to the fans after last night’s winning triple?” I froze, a familiar face splashed across the television screen.

“Yeah, actually. Thanks so much to everyone for supporting me. Your signs and cards and messages mean so much.” Jenson paused as my heart thundered in romantic beats. “And to the special girl I met last night…I’ve got something of yours I’d like to return. Call me.”

I nearly crumpled to the floor as a wave of sheer embarrassment flamed my cheeks.

“Well, this just got interesting,” Taylor commented from across the room.

Mother. Fucking. Fuck.