Entanglement: An MM One Night Stand/Friends with Benefits University Romance

Chapter 3

STAN

We f*cked all night like there was no tomorrow. Well, there wasn’t, not for a one-night stand.

We did it in bed, on the sofa, on the kitchen counter, and eventually in the shower before collapsing back on the bed, too exhausted to care that we weren’t supposed to be sleeping together—the actual sleeping part, that is.

I woke up with a start and noticed it was already 7:20 AM. With classes at 10, I quietly gathered my clothes and slipped out of there, careful not to wake Rave. Back at the bar parking lot, I found my motorcycle and drove home, chastising myself the entire way. No one-night stand ends with waking up in bed together, limbs entangled like we did. I should have left last night, but I was too drained. Well, too late for regrets. I just shrugged it off and went about my day, preparing for what lay ahead, because there’s nothing I can do now.

RAVE

I woke up with a start, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings until memories of last night flooded back. A smile tugged at my lips as I glanced at the clock—just past 10 AM. Not finding Stan beside me, I checked the bathroom, but he was long gone. Stan left without so much as a goodbye? That rubbed me the wrong way, especially since I’m usually the one who bails after s*x. I don’t do sleepovers—never have, until last night. Usually, the other party acts clingy, trying to convince me to stay. But Stan? He’s different.

So why did I manage to sleep beside Stan? And comfortably at that, judging by the fact that I slept so soundly. Maybe it was just exhaustion—after all, I’ve never gone at it as many times in one night as I did with Stan. A smirk crept across my face. That guy is a complete devil in bed. Who would’ve guessed that behind his nerdy persona at the university lies a s*x machine?

I drove home and spent the entire day lazing in bed, feeling sore in places I’ve never been sore before. My mind kept drifting back to Stan, and I found myself eagerly anticipating seeing him again, which is really unlike me. One-night stands are just that—no exceptions. I never think about them again after the deed. Some of them, I don’t even acknowledge when I see them at the university. I just pretend I don’t know them. But now, I’m racking my brain, trying to figure out what’s so different about Stan that he’s occupied my thoughts all day and night.

The next day, I walked into class with Met and Chai by my side. Bass was late again, as usual, probably due to last night’s hookup. My gaze landed on a lone figure in the middle of the classroom, engrossed in a book. He didn’t even look up like the rest of the class did when we came in. Stan was completely oblivious, as always.

Met seemed surprised when I sauntered towards the middle of the class. We usually sit in the front, avoiding conversations with others. He raised an eyebrow but followed me anyway. I sat beside Stan, who stiffened when I touched his arm and said, “Hi.” He clearly wasn’t expecting me to talk to him in class, as evidenced by the startled look in his beautiful round eyes. Chai and Met greeted him too, but he just nodded solemnly and returned to his book.

I tried starting a conversation, but he responded with monosyllables, shutting down all my attempts. I eventually gave up when the professor arrived, though I kept stealing glances at Stan. He was too focused on the lecture, which irked me. Was I really that insignificant to him? Or did he just not care? My frustration must have been evident because Chai and Met kept giving me confused looks throughout the two-hour lecture. Our classmates, too, were probably crafting gossip as they witnessed my embarrassing failure to catch Stan’s interest.

When class ended, Stan immediately gathered his things, eager to leave, but I reached out to stop him. He looked at me with that perpetually startled gaze of his—like a deer caught in headlights.

“Stan, do you want to join us for lunch?” I asked, mustering all my charm.

“No thanks, I’m in a hurry. I have to finish an assignment before work,” he replied, his face devoid of interest.

I followed him out of the room, with a very confused Met and Chai trailing behind.

“Why didn’t you wake me up when you left?” I asked, exasperated, desperate for any reaction—anything other than this irritating disinterest.

He looked at me, genuinely confused, and blurted out, “Was I supposed to? Listen, Rave, just because we had a fun night doesn’t mean you owe it to me to be nice. We never really talked or hung out before, and I’m okay with it staying that way. I know you like it that way too. Just because we’re classmates doesn’t mean you have to go out of your way to be nice to me. I’m okay, really. Treat me like you treat everyone else. I won’t hate you—I know that’s just how it’s supposed to be. I better go now. I’ll be late. Bye.”

I stood there, frozen, unable to believe what I just heard. Chai approached me, dragging me toward Met and Bass, who had apparently just arrived in time to witness my humiliation. What was that? I’ve never been ditched like that. s**t. Now my best friends are waiting for me to explain what exactly is going on. They’ve never seen me voluntarily approach anyone in the four years we’ve been at university—or even since middle school. Worst of all, they’ve never seen me get shut down this hard. It would almost be comical if I weren’t so embarrassed, especially with Bass’s laughter echoing in my ears.

Still flabbergasted, I said nothing, my mind reeling from what Stan just pulled on me. How dare he?