The morning passed in a blur. I ran to my room to shower and change clothes, grabbed breakfast at the dining hall in about ten minutes, and then rushed to my 9:30 am class.
I could barely focus on the lecture. Hell, I don't even remember half of it. All I could think about was that I had just spent the night in Connor's bed and I wasn't a virgin. The professor was talking about some titanic figure in English literature. I'd had sex. He was telling the class something about the bucolic imagery of the English countryside, but I'd had really good sex. As in 'cumming three times just from Connor fucking me' good sex.
As the professor talked about the depiction of working class Englishmen in the 19th century, I was wondering who else in the room was having sex. There were three guys in the middle row, very athletic, probably frat brothers. They probably were. The geeky guy in the third row — nah, couldn't be. A guy and a girl sitting together, occasionally whispering to each other, oh yeah. They were not only definitely having sex, they were probably doing it with each other.
Suddenly everyone started getting up, piercing my fog of distraction. Shit, the period was over. I hadn't even heard the professor end his lecture. I scooped my books and papers into my bag and headed for the door.
I had about an hour and a half until it would make sense to get some lunch, and then a 2 pm class. I went to the library to try to read the articles for the 2 pm class. I managed to get through them without being totally distracted, but it wasn't easy. My phone sat there on the table, almost begging me to pick it up and text Connor. His last words ran through my mind again and again: "This is a one-night stand only if you want it to be."
"This is a one-night stand only if you want it to be."
He had left the choice to me.
But that was the question: What did I want?
Finally I fished his number out of my jacket pocket and picked up the phone. I opened the contacts app and typed in his number. Added "Connor" on top of it, saved it. My thumb hovered over the "text messages" icon. I opened my mail, stalling, and looked at the top of the feed. A couple of spam items that I deleted. An email from a student with whom I was doing a project in another class. 50% off travel with Expedia. An email from my sister.
I closed the email and opened the text app, realizing I was procrastinating.
I called up his number and hit "message". And then I stared at the blank screen.
What should I say?
"Last night was really great, and..." No, too much too soon. Delete.
"Thanks for last night," I typed. Oh my God that was cliched. Delete.
"Hey." I stared at that for a while. It sounded like a bad personal. For fuck's sake, I'd just slept with the guy, how could I be so tongue tied??
Delete.
"Hi Connor, it's Scott." I stared at that, too.
What did I want? And then I remembered his words: "This is a one-night stand only if you want it to be. I want to see you again."
And then I knew what to type. "I don't want it to be one night. I want to see you again too."
I stared at that for a long minute, my thumb hovering over the "send" button. And then I tapped the button.
I looked at the phone. Holy shit, I'd done it. I quickly put the phone down, face down. I tried to go back to one of my readings, but kept looking at the phone out of the corner of my eye. After about three minutes, I picked it up. No messages. I put it down again, tried to read. Picked it up again, no messages. And then I realized how ridiculous I was being. Connor might be busy and not hearing his phone. Maybe he was in class and unable to answer, or at sports practice and not even near his phone. He might be studying and not paying attention to his phone. Or working a campus job at...
