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That’s when I stumble ontothosevideos. You know the kind. The ones that make bad days a little less shitty.

The girl on my screen is ridiculous with her plump lips, flawless skin, and curves that practically pour out of her lingerie. She’s leaning back, moaning into the camera like she’s doing it just for me.

I shift on the couch, my body already reacting.

I watch another. Then another.

By the fourth clip, I’m not even paying attention to the screen anymore. My brain drifts to Maya, the way she looks when she’s lying on her bed in just her underwear, her hair all messy. Her voice when she says my name like I’m the only thing she needs.

“Fuck,” I mutter, sliding my hand under the waistband of my sweats.

The first stroke sends a shiver of relief through me. I close my eyes, letting the fantasy take over.

Maya’s laugh. Maya’s lips. Maya’s—

My phone buzzes in my other hand.

I glance at the screen, irritation flaring. It’s a notification from my calendar app.

Quiz: Business Management. 15 minutes.

My eyes widen. “Oh, fuck me.”

I yank my hand out of my pants, scrambling to sit up. The clock on the wall confirms it — I’m screwed.

I launch myself off the couch, grabbing my bag on the way out.

The car ride to campus is a blur. My head’s a mess, and the GPS says I’ve got about six minutes to get my ass into that classroom.

Six minutes. For a quiz I didn’t even study for. Perfect.

I park like a maniac, barely cutting the engine before I’m out the door.

The hallways are crowded, of course. It’s midday, and everyone and their mom decided today’s the day to take their sweet time walking around.

“Move!” I bark, dodging a couple holding hands.

I round a corner, going full speed, and slam into someone.

“Jesus, watch it!” a girl snaps, stumbling back a step.

I barely catch her before she trips.

She’s petite, maybe 5’6”, with auburn curls spilling down her shoulders. Her eyes are green — sharp, piercing. Her lips are parted in a pout that shouldn’t look as good as it does.

She’s wearing ripped jeans, a snug black top that clings in all the right places, and sneakers that look too clean to have seen a single day of dirt.

“Are you fucking blind?” she asks, her voice sharp.

“Blind? You’re the one standing in the middle of the goddamn hallway,” I snap back, still holding her arm.

Her eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” I say, stepping closer without thinking. “Maybe if you weren’t too busy checking out those guys, you’d watch where the hell you’re going.”

Her cheeks burn red, not glancing back at those guys who were staring back.

“Let. Go,” she says, enunciating each word like I’m a child who needs a lesson.