FROM BROS TO FÛCK BUDDIES (4)
When I woke up, Ryan wasn’t in the room. The bed next to mine was already cold. The clock on my desk said it was just past nine. Right. On Fridays, he had an early lecture.
I sat up slowly, still in yesterday’s clothes. My jeans were stiff, the fabric clinging awkwardly to my legs. They smelled like sweat, and maybe something else. I didn’t want to think too hard about it.
The room was empty. I slipped out as quietly as I could, avoiding eye contact in the hallway. The communal showers were mostly vacant. The water was cold at first, but I didn’t flinch. I let it hit me in the face, the neck, the chest. I thought of Ryan. I thought of Zoey. I thought about what we had done the night before, and how none of it made any sense anymore, except that it did. Too
