I slowly wake up, my mind initially groggy and disoriented. 

Where am I?

I blink a few times, trying to piece together where I am. The luxurious room and the unfamiliar surroundings slowly come into focus, and I remember.

I turn my head and see Mark still sleeping beside me, the soft sounds of his snoring filling the room. The memories of meeting him at the bar come rushing back, along with the sex. It was incredible—something I hadn’t expected but could definitely feel the effects of this morning.

I consider waking him up, feeling a sudden urge to relive those moments of passion. But as I watch him lying there, so peaceful and serene, I hesitate. He looks utterly content, and there’s something oddly sweet about seeing him like this. I consider laying there, trying to fall back to sleep.

But I can’t shake the feeling of impending awkwardness. It’s something I’ve come to expect after a one night stand—the uncomfortable conversation or the awkward silence that follows. I’d rather avoid that if I can.

Quietly, I slip out of bed, trying not to disturb him. I realize I’m still naked. I glance around the room, searching for my clothes. It doesn’t take long to spot my panties on the floor, crumpled next to Mark’s shirt. I crouch down, pulling them on carefully. As I do, I feel a small rush of Mark’s cum leak out of me, a reminder that he came inside me. I scold past me for a moment. 

Really, Ava? You let him cum inside you?

Next, I retrieve my bra, which had somehow ended up tangled with the sheets. I fasten it and then grab the hoodie from the chair where I’d left it. Pulling it over my head. Then I slip back into my leggings, smoothing them out when I’m done. Finally I slip on my shoes and I’m ready to sneak out.

I take a last look around the room, ensuring I haven’t left anything behind. The soft, luxurious space seems almost foreign in the morning light, but I don’t have time to dwell on it. My goal is to leave without waking Mark and avoid any potential awkwardness.

Just as I’m about to slip out of the room, a sudden urge to pee hits me. I freeze for a moment, trying to decide if I can make it back to my dorm without making a pit stop. But the pressure is too much, and I know I need to go now.

I tiptoe over to the bathroom, moving as quietly as possible. The door creaks slightly as I open it, but I manage to slip inside without alerting Mark. Once the door is securely closed behind me, I quickly make my way to the toilet.

As I sit down and relieve myself, I can’t help but think about why my pussy feels so sore. The memory of last night comes flooding back, and I recall just how big Mark’s cock was. God, it was so big. It makes sense now— the way he filled me like I’d never been before. I shift slightly, feeling a lingering discomfort that reminds me of how vigorous we were.

I finish up and stand, flushing the toilet and washing my hands quickly. I give my reflection a last look, adjusting my hoodie and making sure everything is in place. The sense of finality weighs on me as I sneak out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. I move quietly, careful not to disturb Mark, who remains soundly asleep.

I slip through the suite and gently close the door behind me, taking a deep breath as I step into the hallway. The silence of the hotel is a stark contrast to the flurry of thoughts racing through my head. I walk briskly to the elevator, my heart pounding with a mix of relief and lingering excitement.

The elevator ride down feels oddly peaceful, as I continue to reminisce on the night before. When the doors open to the lobby, I make my way outside, heading toward the bus stop. The crisp morning air is refreshing.

The bus arrives, and I board, taking my usual seat by the window. The familiar motion of the bus swaying back and forth brings memories of past one night stands I had over the past couple years. This one was different though. My past encounters were straight up fucking. Two horny college students getting it on.

With Mark it felt different. I felt a connection with him that I hadn’t felt during those other one night stands. 

When the bus finally reaches my stop, I get off and walk a few blocks to my dorm. The routine of the walk is soothing, the sounds of bird chirping and leaves crunching under my shoes. I pass by other students and I’m sure they’re aware I’m doing the walk of shame. 

Whatever, at least I got laid last night. 

I push open the door to the dorm and am greeted by the unmistakable sound of Hannah's voice. She and I have been roommates since freshman year. We’ve been through it all with each other. Boyfriend, breakups, flings, friends with benefits. We always support each other, even if it comes with a healthy dose of teasing. 

I love her. She keeps me real. I couldn’t imagine life at Briarwood University without her. 

She's lounging in the common area, flipping through a magazine with an air of nonchalance. When she spots me, a knowing smirk spreads across her face. 

"Well, well, look who’s gracing us with her presence this morning. How was the sex?"

I roll my eyes, already feeling a wave of exhaustion and frustration. 

"Hannah, seriously? I’m not in the mood for your sarcasm today," I reply, trying to keep my tone steady. 

The last thing I want is to deal with her teasing when I'm still processing the events of last night.

Ignoring her snide remark, I plop down onto my bed, feeling the familiar comfort of the mattress beneath me. Hannah, however, isn't letting up. She saunters over with an exaggerated sway of her hips, her eyes twinkling with mischief. 

"Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. It’s Saturday morning, there’s plenty of time to hook up with another guy this weekend."

Her comment makes me bristle, a flush of irritation coloring my cheeks. "Hannah, shut up! I’m just tired."

“Didn’t sleep much last night?” she says smacking her magazine against my leg. 

I roll my eyes and turn to face away from her as I curl up with my pillow.

Hannah raises an eyebrow, clearly reveling in my discomfort. "So let’s see… There was Tyler last weekend. Now this guy. What’s this? Some sort of personal challenge? ‘Most One-Night Stands in a Semester’?... Do they offer a scholarship for that?"

I let out a heavy sigh, feeling both embarrassed and defensive. 

"I don’t need to justify my choices to you… It just… Kind of… Happened… Okay?"

Hannah laughs, a playful glint in her eye. 

"Alright, alright. I’m just messing with you. But seriously, what’s the plan? Are you going to keep this up every weekend?"

I meet her gaze, trying to remain composed. 

"Honestly, I don’t know, Hannah. I’m just trying to live my best life here. Can we not turn this into a lecture or a guessing game about my next hook up?"

Her smile softens, and she nods, sensing that I’m not in the mood for more teasing. 

"Okay, okay. I’ll back off. But you know I’m here if you need to talk or if you just want to decompress after these… Escapades… Or maybe we should call them sexcapades?"

I roll over to face Hannah. I manage a small smile, appreciating her attempt to ease the tension. 

"Thanks, Hannah. I appreciate that."

Hannah's expression shifts from playful to serious. She exhales slowly, her gaze fixed on me. 

"Actually, since we’re being open about everything, I have a favor to ask."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Depends on what it is."

She hesitates, her eyes darting around as if weighing how to frame her request. 

"My dad is in town for Parents Weekend. I was wondering if you’d come with me to brunch in a couple hours. I’d really appreciate the company."

My mood sours slightly at the mention of Parents Weekend. The irony isn’t lost on me—after spending the night escaping the whole ordeal, here I am being dragged back into it. I sigh and roll my eyes. 

"Parents Weekend, huh?"

Hannah’s face shows a flicker of sympathy. 

"Yeah, I get it. My mom and her new husband are off on a cruise, so my dad decided to come instead. I know it sounds lame, but having someone else there would make it a lot easier for me."

I take in her words, sensing the undercurrent of discomfort in her voice. 

"Why? He’s your dad isn’t he?"

Hannah nods gratefully. 

"Exactly. It’s not like my dad is bad company or anything. He’s a great guy, but the whole situation just makes things a bit... tense. It has been since the divorce. It would be a huge help if you could join me."

I think it over, the weight of her request settling on my shoulders. Despite my initial reluctance, I realize that supporting a friend in need is important, especially when the alternative is to let her deal with an uncomfortable situation alone. Plus, brunch does sound pretty good right now.

"Alright, I’ll go. Give me a few minutes to get ready."

Hannah’s face lights up with relief and gratitude. 

"Thank you so much!" she shouts as she leaps across the room to give me a hug.

Hannah heads off to get ready, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I take a deep breath and decide that a shower might help clear my head from last night.

In the bathroom, I turn on the water and step in, letting the hot stream cascade over me. As the warmth envelops me, my thoughts drift back to my evening with Mark. The memory of his touch between my legs makes me shiver.

As I wash myself, I notice that my pussy lips feel swollen, a reminder of how much he filled me last night. I slide a finger inside me and gently try to clean away the remnants of his cum, feeling a mix of discomfort and satisfaction. 

My attention shifts to my nipples, which are still tender from Mark’s enthusiastic attention. I run my fingers lightly over them, wincing at the sensitivity. I had hoped a shower would soothe them, but they’re still very much aware of the previous night’s activities.

After a thorough rinse, I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a towel. I grab the pile of clothes from the floor—my leggings, hoodie, and the now-dirty panties. I toss them into the laundry basket with a resigned sigh. As I catch sight of a streak of dried cum on my panties, I roll my eyes, amused by the mess.

Ava, how do you always find yourself in these situations?

I start picking out my outfit for brunch. As I sift through my clothes, I wonder what kind of man Hannah’s father might be. I remember Mark from last night—his rugged charm and that confident demeanor. Maybe Hannah’s dad will be just as striking.

I pause and shake my head, mentally chiding myself. What are you thinking? I can’t have sex with Hannah’s dad, I murmur to myself, feeling a shiver of guilt and confusion. That’s crossing a line, I continue telling myself. I push the thought aside, reminding myself that my focus should be on supporting Hannah and making the best of this situation.

With that resolved, I pick out a simple but cute outfit—a short fall dress, and a pair of comfortable flats. I rummage through my underwear and bra until I find a dark green set. The bra has little lace details and the thong helps hide any pantylines under my dress. I do my makeup, opting for a natural look with a hint of mascara and lip gloss. I want to look presentable but not overly done-up, just in case I accidentally run into someone I know. 

Maybe Mark?

After making sure everything is in place, I head to the common area of the dorm to meet Hannah. She’s sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone and looking poised and ready. Her outfit is casual yet polished—a neat blouse and a pair of tailored pants that make her look effortlessly chic. Typical Hannah.

“Hey, ready for brunch?” I ask, trying to sound cheerful and supportive despite the apprehension I feel about being thrust into Parents Weekend, without my parents.

Hannah looks up and gives me a bright smile. 

“Hey, thanks again for coming with me. I really appreciate it. My dad’s a great guy, I promise. You’ll like him.”

I nod, trying to shake off my lingering doubts. “No problem. I’m happy to help.”

As we head out of the dorm and make our way to the restaurant, I can’t help but feel a twinge of nervous anticipation. I hope the brunch goes smoothly and that I can put the previous night’s events behind me.

Hannah and I arrive at the restaurant. The place is lovely, nestled by a serene lake with panoramic views and a warm, inviting decor featuring rich wooden accents. It’s the kind of spot where you could easily lose track of time on a lazy day.

We get out of our Uber and head toward the entrance. My anxiety levels rise. 

Why did I agree to do this? I ask myself. 

I’ve never been a fan of Parents Weekend, and now, I can’t help but wonder why I agreed to come along. I mentally brace myself for what’s ahead.

We’re greeted by a man at the front. Hannah smiles and mentions we’re meeting Mr. Mitchell for brunch. The host nods and gestures for us to follow him. As we walk through the restaurant, I take in the charming artwork lining the walls—paintings and photographs of the lake and local scenery that add to the restaurant’s cozy ambiance.

We turn a corner, and the man stops at the table where Hannah’s dad is seated. Suddenly my heart skips a beat. There, at the table, sits Mark. He looks up and his face pales. The shock in his eyes is evident, and I can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he recognizes me.

I stand frozen for a moment, my mind racing. 

Why is Mark here? 

Then the realization hits me like a ton of bricks: Mark is Hannah's dad. The man I had spent the night with, the man who’s giant dick left me feeling sore this morning, the man who filled me with his cum less than twelve hours ago, the man whose bed I had slipped out of this morning, is actually Hannah’s father.

What have you gotten yourself into now, Ava?

I hoped to see Mark again, but not like this!

The full weight of the situation crashes down on me. I suddenly feel guilty and vulnerable. My face flushes with embarrassment, and I’m torn between fleeing the scene and trying to compose myself.

Hannah, oblivious to the silent exchange between Mark and I, cheerfully says, “Dad! I’m so glad you’re here!”

Mark’s initial look of surprise quickly shifts to a forced smile as he stands up to greet us. He gives Hannah a gentle hug.

“Oh, Hanna! How nice it is to see you again!” 

Hannah turned towards me, “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought my roommate, Ava.”

Mark’s eyes shot open as he realized that not only did I know his daughter, but I was actually her roommate. 

His hand extends toward me for a handshake, his grip firm and uncomfortably familiar. The handshake reminds me of the bar last night. Then I remember that these fingers were inside me last night. 

“Hi, Mr. Mitchell,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady as I shake his hand. 

“Please,” he grimaces, “You can call me Mark.”

“Okay Mark, nice to meet you.” I smile. 

Mark’s eyes momentarily widen before he regains his composure. 

“The pleasure is mine,” he says, though his voice carries a hint of mischief.

Hannah, blissfully unaware of the unspoken tension, slides into the booth. 

“So, Dad, when did you get in?”

Mark takes a sip of his water and clears his throat. 

“I flew in last night. I would have reached out to you, but I was pretty tired and decided to turn in early.”

I give him a small, somewhat forced smile. Yeah, you turned in early alright…

Mark turns his attention to Hannah, asking her about her classes and how things are going at school. Hannah excitedly shares her latest updates, describing her coursework and campus life with animated enthusiasm.

Mark listens attentively, but his gaze occasionally flicks back to me, a silent recognition that last night is lingering in his mind. When there’s a pause in the conversation, Mark turns to me, his expression neutral but curious. 

“So, Ava, what are you studying?”

I take a deep breath, trying to ignore the awkwardness. “I’m majoring in Psychology. I’m particularly interested in cognitive behavioral therapy and its applications.”

Mark nods, his eyes lingering on me a bit longer than necessary. 

“That sounds interesting. What draws you to that field?”

As I explain my interest in psychology and the ways it can help people, I catch glimpses of Mark’s conflicting emotions. It’s clear he’s trying to reconcile the image of the woman he spent the night with and the one sitting across from him now.

The conversation shifts back to Hannah, who talks about her latest projects and campus events. Her enthusiasm fills the space with a vibrant energy that contrasts sharply with the tension simmering between Mark and me.

Despite Hannah’s lively chatter, my focus remains on Mark. I catch him glancing at me, his eyes momentarily lingering before he looks away. Each time our gazes meet, there’s an unspoken acknowledgment of the awkwardness between us. We’re dying to talk to each other. To figure out what is going on, but we can’t. For Hannah’s sake. I try to maintain my composure, but with every stolen glance I can feel the dampness building between my legs.

Hannah, completely unaware of the silent exchange between us, continues to regale her father with stories from her semester so far. She’s engrossed in her narrative, occasionally looking up to gauge his reaction. Her innocence in this situation is almost comical.

After what feels like an eternity of navigating polite conversation and stolen glances, the waiter finally arrives to take our drink orders.

“Would you like anything to drink?” he asks, his notepad at the ready.

Hannah glances at me and then at her father. “I’ll have a mimosa,” she says with a smile.

Mark nods, giving his order, “I’ll take a gin and tonic.” shooting me a subtle smile.

This guy stole my drink! 

I hesitate for a moment before placing my order. “Make it two gin and tonics, please.”

The waiter makes a note of our choices and then walks away, leaving us in a brief lull of silence. The air is charged with an unspoken tension. 

Hannah stands up, excusing herself to use the restroom. The moment she’s out of earshot, Mark and I lock eyes.

“Okay, what the fuck?” I hiss, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’re Hannah’s father? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mark's expression is a mix of irritation and surprise. “How was I supposed to know you were her roommate? What do you think I do? Go around asking women if they know my daughter?” he retorts, his voice low but defensive.

“Oh! So all that stuff about it being a long time was bullshit too?” I scowl in a low voice. 

Mark rolls his head back in frustration, “No, that’s now what I’m saying-”

I shake my head in disbelief, unable to hide my frustration. “You’re such an asshole,” I mutter under my breath, my anger simmering.

Mark leans in closer, his voice dropping even further. “I’m the asshole? I’m not the one who left in the morning without even saying goodbye.”

His words sting, and I can’t help but flinch at the accusation. I want to argue, to defend myself, but the reality of the situation is hitting me hard. 

“I didn’t want things to be awkward,” I explained, my voice tinged with frustration, “So, I got up and left… Besides, it was just sex.”

Mark shakes his head, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “

You were worried about things being awkward? How do you explain this?” He gestures between us, his eyes narrowing in disbelief.

I roll my eyes, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. 

“It’s not like I knew I fucked my roommate’s dad,” I snap back, the words escaping before I can fully process them.

Mark’s expression softens slightly, though he still looks bemused. 

“Fair point,” he admits, though there’s a lingering edge in his tone, “But this makes things a lot more complicated.”

I sigh, rubbing my temples. 

“Tell me about it. I didn’t exactly plan for this. I was just trying to enjoy a night away from the whole Parents Weekend circus.”

Mark’s gaze softens as he studies me, the irritation in his eyes giving way to something more thoughtful. 

“I guess we’re both in a bit of a mess here,” he says, his voice softening.

The words hang in the air between us, heavy with unspoken implications. I can’t help but feel a pang of regret mixed with the sharp sting of embarrassment. How did I end up here, sitting across from my latest one night stand, who also happens to be Hannah’s father?

“Does she know anything?” Mark scowls. 

I furrow my eyebrows, “God no! I would be mortified if she found out.” 

“Okay, good. Keep it that way.” Mark nodded.

Before I can respond, Hannah reappears, a bright smile on her face. 

“Sorry about that! What are you two chatting about?” she asks, completely unaware of what was going on.

Mark and I exchange one last, tense glance before we turn our attention back to Hannah, trying to force smiles and act as though everything is perfectly normal. But the undercurrent of awkwardness is palpable, and I know that things will never be quite the same, even between Hannah and I.

The conversation feels forced, each word carefully chosen to avoid any revelations. Hannah chatters on about her latest campus projects and her plans for the semester, her excitement a stark contrast to the tension simmering beneath the surface.

The waiter returns with our drinks. I take a sip of my gin and tonic, the taste reminding me of the previous night. Mark seems to be making an effort to engage in the conversation, though his eyes keep flickering to me, as if trying to gauge my mood.

As the waiter takes our food orders, I find myself mostly a bystander in the conversation. Mark and Hannah discuss her coursework, as he compares them to his time at Briarwood University. I contribute the occasional nod or brief comment. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m just going through the motions, my mind replaying the previous night’s events over and over again in my head. Playing out scenarios if Hannah ever found out about Mark and I.

The food arrives, and we start eating, the clatter of utensils and the murmur of other patrons filling the spaces between our conversations. I try to focus on the meal, but it’s no use. It’s hard not to think about what happened last night when I can still feel Mark’s cum leaking out of me. 

As brunch wraps up, Mark takes care of the bill. The three of us then walk toward the front of the restaurant, and I can’t help but feel a wave of relief as we approach the exit. All I want to do is go back to my dorm, curl up in bed, and forget any of this just happened. 

Just as we’re about to step outside, Mark clears his throat and casually suggests, “Why don’t you two come back to my hotel room for a drink? I’ve got a huge suite with a full bar. It’d be a nice way to unwind after brunch.”

Hannah, initially caught off guard by the suggestion, hesitates. Her eyes race between Mark and I, clearly weighing the offer. 

“Come on! Just one drink?” he suggests. 

Hannah considers the invitation for a moment, then turns to me, seeking my opinion. Her gaze is curious, perhaps even hopeful. I feel a pang of reluctance. The last thing I want right now is to spend more time with Mark, especially in his hotel room. What if it hasn’t been cleaned up?

I force a small, weary smile and nod. “Sure, why not? A drink sounds good.”

Hannah’s face lights up with a mix of relief and excitement, and she turns back to Mark. “Okay, let’s go. It’ll be nice to hang out and relax.”

Once we arrive at the hotel we all pile into the elevator. I have a moment of déjà vu as I remember taking this exact elevator up to Mark’s suite last night. The ride up is quiet, the hum of the elevator a soothing backdrop to my whirling thoughts. I’m still trying to shake off the strange blend of awkwardness that the morning’s events have left me with.

When the elevator doors open, we walk down the hallway and into Mark’s suite. The room is just as I remember it from this morning, the expansive views of the Briarwood campus seem even more striking in the daylight. Mark heads over to the bar.

“Can I get you two anything to drink?” he asks, his tone friendly as he masks his nervousness.

I glance at Hannah, who is already perusing the selection of spirits on the bar. 

“I’ll have another gin and tonic, please,” I say, trying to sound casual.

Hannah, looking more relaxed now, decides on a vodka and cranberry. Mark nods and begins to pour, his eyes flicking back and forth between us as he mixes the drinks. As he works, I snoop around the room. The bed is now made, hiding the fact that I had been sleeping naked next to Mark less than 6 hours ago. I spotted the couch where Mark and I started making out last night. 

With drinks in hand, we settle into the plush seating area. Hannah sits in the exact spot where I climbed onto her dad’s lap last night. She takes the lead in the conversation, asking her dad about his business.

“So, Dad,” she begins, taking a sip of her vodka and cranberry, “how’s everything going with the firm?”

Mark leans back in his chair, his bourbon resting in his hand. 

“Things are going well, actually. The firm’s been expanding, and we’ve had some promising new ventures recently. We’ve got one who is getting ready for an IPO, so that’s really exciting.”

I’m taken aback, “What do you do exactly?” I hadn’t realized what Mark’s career was. 

Last night he’d simply said he was in finance. I imagined he was some stock person or maybe a bank manager.

“I founded a company called Pinnacle Ventures Group. We invest in startups and help them develop until they’re ready to be sold or go public.” Mark explains.

“So you started one of those venture things I learned about in my finance class?” I ask, trying now to sound too uneducated.  

Mark nods, a hint of pride in his expression. “Yes, I did. It keeps me busy, but it’s rewarding work. I’ve been traveling quite a bit lately for various deals and meetings.”

The revelation makes more sense now. I can see why he would fly in for Parents Weekend despite living only a few hours away. It also explains the extravagant trips Hannah often mentions. Spring break in Florida, summers in the South Pacific, winter breaks in Vail. I knew she had a privileged upbringing, now it all made sense. 

“Oh wow, I didn’t realize,” I say, trying to sound interested. “That sounds impressive.”

Mark offers a modest smile. 

“It’s been a lot of work, but it’s worth it. And of course, Hannah does get to enjoy some of the perks.”

Hannah grins at her dad’s comment, clearly enjoying the opportunity to talk about her father’s success. The conversation drifts to other topics, and as we talk, Hannah stands up and asks her dad where the restroom is. 

Mark explains that the closest bathroom isn't working, so she should use the one in his bedroom. I’m suspicious of Mark’s explanation. My stomach clenches as I recall using that very bathroom this morning to freshen up. I force a smile and nod as Hannah heads toward the bedroom.

As soon as I hear the bedroom door close behind Hannah, I get up to refresh my drink, trying to avoid another awkward conversation with Mark. The clink of ice against the glass helps steady my nerves. But before I can fully relax, Mark is suddenly behind me, his breath warm against my neck. My initial instinct is to pull away, but the sensation of his lips and the soft caress of his tongue against my skin sends shivers down my spine. I find myself leaning into him despite myself.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Mark whispers, his voice low and seductive.

I close my eyes, giving in to the electric thrill of his touch. Slowly, he slides his hand up the front of my dress, the fabric brushing against my thighs. I can feel the heat of his fingers through my lacy thong as he begins to rub my pussy. A soft gasp escapes my lips as he pulls the fabric aside and slides a finger inside me. The sensation is intense, and I’m lost in the moment, my body reacting eagerly to his touch.

“You’re so wet right now,” Mark whispers, his voice filled with a mix of awe and satisfaction.

I can only nod, my breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. I want him to stop so Hannah doesn’t catch us, but the feeling of his finger skillfully pleasuring me is too much. Just then, the bathroom door creaks open. Panic surges through me as Mark and I quickly separate. I adjust my thong and straighten out my dress with trembling hands just as Hannah walks back into the room.

“Everything okay?” she asks, her voice cheerful and unsuspecting.

“Yeah, just discussing one of my latest startup investments,” Mark replies smoothly, as if nothing had happened.

I sit down next to Hannah, trying to steady my breathing as Mark joins us with our refreshed drinks. The conversation flows back to familiar topics, with Mark and Hannah catching up on family drama. I find myself drifting, my mind replaying the sensual moment between Mark and I in the brief time we were left alone.

Every brush of my thighs reminds me of the lingering touch of Mark’s fingers. I can feel the wetness between my legs, the fabric of my thong clinging uncomfortably to my skin. The yearning for another taste of Mark is strong, but yet so far away as I look over at Hannah seated next to me.

After a while, I decide it’s best to make a move. 

“It’s getting kind of late. I think it’s time we head back to the dorms. I have a project I need to finish before class on Monday,” I suggest, my voice casual despite the turbulent emotions inside.

Hannah looks at me, her eyes lighting up with agreement. 

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ve had a great time, but I’ve got some stuff I need to do too.”

Mark nods in understanding. “Of course. Let me just grab my things, and I’ll walk you both out.”

We gather our things and head to the door, with Mark leading us out of the suite. As we walk through the hotel lobby, I try to keep my focus on getting out of this situation and not on the tension that still simmers between Mark and me. The anticipation of being alone with him again is almost unbearable, but I feel a sharp disappointment realizing it’ll have to wait.

Once we’re outside, Mark gives us a warm goodbye, his eyes lingering on me with an unreadable expression. 

He shakes my hand and tells me, “It was nice to meet you, Ava.”

Such a formal goodbye considering we’d both been all over each other last night. As he turns around I catch a glimpse of something—perhaps regret or desire—in his gaze before he heads back into the hotel.

As we get into the Uber and drive back to campus, I feel a mix of relief and frustration. The need for closure or perhaps another encounter with Mark lingers, but for now, all I can do is wait until the next opportunity… Whenever that is.