The Girlfriend Experience

Chapter 1—Regretful Day (1)

My head was pounding the next morning, the noise from the outside made my state worse, and the sunlight that prickled my skin was enough to jolt me awake. The moment I opened my eyes, I knew I was somewhere I didn't know.

I scanned the surroundings carefully, the light brown wooden walls, the band posters hung messily, the thrown red cup on the floor along with the dirty clothes. I realized I wasn't in my room, I was still in that frat house I attended last night.

More specifically, I was in an unknown room with the guy I sexually attacked last night.

The mortifying truth hit me more than the hangover spinning on my mind. The memories came rushing in as if I was watching a movie in my mind. Slowly, I turned around to face reality. I gripped the soft blanket around me, trying to balance my dignity with my wobbly body. I knew I made my decision last night and I knew I was the one who forced what happened. But why did it feel like I was regretting it to my very core, and slowly I felt my whole life cursing me more.

Drinking last night was a mistake.

Whoever this person in front of me, I could only pray that he wouldn't file a lawsuit against me. What happened was practically an assault. I forced myself into him and I should be on my knees right now and m beg for his forgiveness.

m. But I found myself helpless when I realized who the man was.

Sleeping soundly, his closed eyes would flutter gently as he breathed calmly. His long lashes complimented his sleeping state. His black hair ruffled messily, the strands almost tangled while the other was stuck on his damped forehead. I knew this man was handsome, even in that darkness I could tell. But with the sunlight, gently caressing his face as if it was in love—he looked absolutely divine.

Nobody should be allowed to look that good while sleeping.

The problem was not even his manly beauty, it was the fact that I realized I knew this man. The man I roughly threw myself into, wanting to trap him into taking my virginity, was none other than the golden boy of the campus, Christopher Sterling.

A popular student in our university, and if I remember correctly we share at least one minor class. I had never spoken to him. It's not that it was necessary. I only knew him like how you knew famous people. He was the man who had it all. He was smart, athletic, handsome, and the most important part was he came from a wealthy background. Rumor has it that he was an heir to a conglomerate family. How lucky.

I took a slow yet deep breath. I could feel my blood rising from this reality. I knew I had told myself it was alright to do it with a stranger, but I definitely didn't want that stranger to be a practical celebrity around my place. I heard he had a flock of girls who followed him around—a fanbase you might say. And certainly those people might burn me at the stake for doing something blasphemous, like forcing myself onto their god, in the body of Christopher Sterling.

And what made it all worst, was that he was known to be a player.

Simply put, I f****d up.

My eyes traveled down, only to close them tightly when I realized he wasn't wearing anything. His toned chest was domineeringly staring back at me. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I threaded the pieces together. I couldn't even dare to take a look further behind those sheets on his waist. I didn't need to find out to know, at least that's what I thought.

Because when I took a look at myself, I noticed between the two of us I was wearing my uncomfortable jeans and my tightly clasped bra. My eyes widened for the second time this morning, the ugly jeans looking back at me as if asking me 'You thought?'.

I didn't know if I had the right to feel betrayed, but I was pissed. I couldn't believe that I found myself upset over the fact that a player like him, did not even want to touch me that way.

What qualifications do I need in order to be part of the girls he played around with?

Please, don't get me wrong. I certainly want to stay away man like him-but I feel offended that I was rejected on a one-night stand.

I couldn't even believe what I was thinking. I should be more thankful I saved myself from this one, but was I not attractive enough for him to actually take me last night?

As my confusion and the feeling of being betrayed settled more, I decided to just leave him right there. I didn't try to wake him up and talk things through. If he didn't want to take my virginity last night, then I guess I couldn't do anything about it but find another man who would willingly take it.

Or perhaps, this was a sign from God that I should not give it up.

Walking past the cleaning frat members across the house was not an easy job. Almost every one of them saw me walking out of that room while fixing my clothes and dignity, they all hollered at me as if I was some kind of prostitute who landed a big check on a big d**k.

Not that I saw it, but from that outline of the blanket, I knew he was big.

I am going crazy.

"What date is today again?" I groaned while yawning. The heat from the sun exposure made me want to run back to the house.

Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I cursed loudly and cursed the whole frat house for throwing a party. How could I forget about it? It's Monday and I have a 7am class with that terror professor I wanted to skin alive so much. I had taken enough absences in his classes already, and I had been late many times. I couldn't afford to take more deductions for my points and give him a reason for failing me.

It's not that I was a grade-conscious person, I only care enough to at least pass the semester—but failing meant repeating. And repeating meant more money to spend, and the more money to spend, the more part-time jobs I needed to abuse my body.

I should've not gone to that party. I skipped my part-time job because of that! And it wasn't even that worth it

Running was never a solution anymore, and although the frat house was just near the campus grounds, the time was already 8:30. Instead of finding a will to face my terrifying professor on this regretful day, I let out a sigh that carried everything I felt about this life.

Ah... I'm tired.

Maybe this virginity was indeed bad luck for me, then should I just return inside and let any of those pricks take it? Would it even make a difference now?

Just once, I wanted to feel in control of my decisions in life. For years, I let myself decide things in my life that were always profitable, even if I didn't like them. Money controlled me. In the end, I got screwed, and yet, despite everything else, I was aware I would still chase after that wealth, that hard-earned cash.

"Hello?" A familiar resonant voice spoke over the speaker of my phone, feeling this detached already, although my day had just started I knew who I needed to call.

"Chad?" I called, my voice drawled as if I was about to cry. "Pick me up will you?" I faked a cry, although deep inside I really did want the tears to come out.

But I would never earn something for doing that.

"Lost it already?" He chuckled over the phone, and I wasn't sure what he was pertaining to.

My virginity or my mind?

"I didn't, but I lost my mind." I replied dryly, kicking the innocent light pole in the sidewalk.

Chad's laughter was heard along with the sound of an engine turning on. Even though I got pissed at how funny my life to him, I held myself back. Because he was profitable for me, he was a ride home-and other things.

"Just pick-"

"Carter." The deep voice from that night came from behind me. I looked around surprised, and he was there at the front door with no shirt, looking confused and concerned as he scanned my state.

"Who's that?" I heard Chad ask curiously, but I couldn't find myself to tell him.

"I got worried, are you okay?" Just like last night, Christopher's voice was soft, so unlike what identity the people had pictured him.

He was gentle and the look of kindness was etched on his face and eyes, and when his eyes looked so kind—it was enough reason to know it was real and genuine. However, that was something I did not care about, regardless of how differently he looked at me, or how he sounded so sincere when he spoke. As if he was cautiously trying to befriend me or to gain my trust, or despite how his green eyes somehow looked softer at the sight of me, I couldn't be careless.

I saw no profit from him.

"h..hi." I awkwardly said, forgetting Chad over the phone.

"Who's--"

"Hey, just come quick, alright. I'll check your thesis for free." I immediately responded, cutting him off. I did not even let him answer. Instead, I turned the call off and faced the man who might sue me later after last night.

Christopher took a step forward, and my eyes betrayed me by falling into those tone specs and biceps that bounced at every move he made. I might be pent-up, because I felt something inside me twirl. The images from last night came into my mind. The way his hands pulled my hair to stop me, the way his hands touched my back softly, and the way his lips felt against mine. It was blissful.

For my first kiss to feel that way, although it was improper and forced, his lips were something I couldn't afford to buy even if I wanted to taste it again.

"Why'd you leave?" He asked, looking at me closer.

"Uhh.." I pushed the thoughts off my head, and wandered for an excuse. "Uhm, well nothing happened between us, yey!" I awkwardly laughed, waving my hands in motion as if to erase everything between us. "I mean, I'm sure you hated that." I cringed.

He looked confused, but the more I gave him my excuses and smiled at him sheepishly as if telling him that last night was just a mistake, the more his face hardened tensely. I was uncertain if I had offended him. I mean I was supposed to be the offended one for being rejected that night, but I guess he had the right to.

"Look, I'm sorry for last night. I was not being myself. I didn't mean to kiss you, I hope you understand, please." I pleaded when his eyes turned intense. Maybe a player like him still has morals, maybe what I did was indeed assault, and he didn't like that.

"I'm sorry." I pleaded again, this time sincerely.

Christopher took a breath, stepping back a little bit as if allowing the air between us to settle in. He looked stressed, as if he did not like what I claimed.

"Carter." I didn't know right there what that look meant, but when he said my name under his staggering breath, dragging it slowly. I should've asked why he looked hurt when I told him I didn't mean the kiss.