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S poiled. Bratty. Snooty. Blabber. Smart. Beautiful. Sassy. And obnoxiously rich. These are some of the words people use to describe me. I have been raised like an entitled princess and one thing I hate is uncertainty.

And the man sitting in front of me, makes me feel the one thing that I despise- nervous. Because if I get nervous, I open my mouth. If I open my mouth, I find it difficult to close it back. And no, it does not help me or the other person. I need to take charge. “Let me be very clear from the beginning. I am not a journalism major. I am only taking this class to fulfill my credits and nothing else. I have other things to focus on and DO NOT HAVE ANY EXPECTATIONS FROM ME.” I force my mouth shut.

He presses his lips in a thin line and furrows his brows. His brown hair is glistening with sweat and his ocean blue eyes bring back hazy memories that make the back of my head hurt.

“I can’t guarantee that the article I write will be selected in the paper, so if you want someone else, I will be more than happy to step aside.” I say when he stays quiet for too long.

“All I wanted to say was- ‘Pass me the menu’” he does the air quotes. I feel my face get hot in the early cold January. I turn to look away, and suddenly the footpath tiles seemed more interesting. I wonder how they laid the cement!

I awkwardly pass him the menu without looking at him. He grabs it out of my hand and I hear him exhale loudly in frustration. “So are you not even going to tell me your name?” he leans his elbow on the table and battles his long lashes at me. Why do men have long lashes? It’s not fair!

“Riya.” I say as I arrange my books.

“Hi Riya” he offers me his hand. “I am–”

I shake his hand sternly. Just how dad had taught me. “Marcus James Williams. I know.” he shakes his head in agreement and stares at me creepily. As if he knows my dirty little secret.

More like OUR dirty little secret.

After he holds on for a second longer, I pull my hand out of his grip. Even his small handshake sends electric currents in my body. No. It is the static current!

He scratches his stubble and leans back in his chair. “You do look very familiar…” he says. Oh God No! I’d hoped he was drunk enough to not remember me.

I mean I did leave before he woke up! But I took his shirt with me. Maybe he noticed that it was missing? I’m sure that I was just another hook up for him. Just another one of the 100 girls that he has slept up with! I really pray that he forgets that night!

Because I can’t remember it for heaven’s sake!

A week ago-

Justine keeps walking back and forth in her new heels that she has been trying to “break in” for two months now. “Why are you even taking that class then? If you hate it so much!” Justine, my roommate and my best friend asks me. Justine and I live off campus in an apartment, which is at a walkable distance from the campus.

She is a Psychology major and so am I. But I also added Biology in my sophomore year. I thought that it should be a piece of cake but I am struggling hard to finish the majors with my study abroad semester in Australia. Don’t get me wrong, it was fun! Until I came back and realised how much I had to do to graduate on time next year.

Justine and I were roommates in freshman year and moved off campus in our Sophomore year. She is pretty cool. But she is a social butterfly, maybe because she is that girl who can juggle parties, social life, boyfriend and grades altogether.

The most important thing about me is that I go to parties only once a month, because there is only so much embarrassment that I can handle once I have opened my mouth.

“You’re doing it again.” Juju shakes me.

“Sorry. I swear to god that I was listening to you. I am taking the class because all the other stupid classes are full and I need to complete this useless class to graduate on time.” I sigh.

“But Journalism, Ri? Out of all classes? You know you hate it!” She pats my shoulder.

I plop on our living room couch. Frustrated with my own stupidity.“I know, I do! But I enrolled for my classes late in the semester. You know I was busy with the wedding.” I had gone back to India for my cousin sister’s wedding and we had such a blast, so much so that I forgot to enroll in all my classes. I literally had to beg the Professor to let me take this class so that I graduate next year.

She sits next to me and takes her heels off to reveal bruised red feet and tosses them to the side. I have no idea why she still wears them. Those heels are so uncomfortable that it feels like you are walking on thorns. Plus they are half a size small for her feet, but I know that she is going to wear them until they split her feet in two.

“Well, you do have to go through it now! There’s not much you can do. Besides, you can pick that PhD guy for your interview! Is there anyone else you recognize on the list?” Juju asks me. We have this stupid final project which is the only grade that will determine our entire grade in the course.

Basically we have to interview and write an article about the person we interview. The best article will be printed in the college paper and the local Daily Times. Great! I am not interested in it. I just need a good grade so that it doesn’t bump down my GPA.

I pout my lips and make a puppy dog face.

She massages her sore red feet to relieve some pressure and hisses in pain. “Of course you don’t. Well in that case. You can just pick random people as your second and third options to interview. I’m sure you’ll get the PhD dude that you so badly want to bone.” She chuckles and hits my back.

I groan and sink lower into the couch in embarrassment. “Juju… One- I do not want to…bone him! And two- he is not the PhD guy. He has a name. And a very cute name at that- Raj.” I blush slightly.

Raj is the PhD student that I work with in my lab who is smart beyond my thinking and has such a unique perspective of looking at the world. Not to mention he is irresistibly handsome!

“That’s the most stereotypical Indian name and you know that!” I laugh at that. She is not wrong. But he’s still cute.

She suddenly props up with energy that I have no idea where she gets from. It’s like she is high on coke half of the time. She’s not! “Okay, I know one thing that will take your mind off it. Jake’s friend is throwing a party at his house tonight, why don’t you come with me? It’ll be fun!” She picks me up by my shoulders and walks me to my room and towards my closet.

I groan and protest with every step that she pushes me ahead. Jake is Justine’s boyfriend of three years and they are so cute together that it makes me want to throw up. But she’s happy, so that makes me happy! The heels that she was wearing were actually a gift from him. And despite me telling her several times to return them, she was too pleased with the sweet gesture and wore them to their every single date.

I throw my hands in the air and get out of her grip. “I just went to a party last weekend. And you know that I couldn’t stop blabbing about how the divorce rate is increasing and is at an all time high worldwide. I am not embarrassing myself more by talking about how aliens exist at this party. My embarrassment metre is at an all time high!” I sulk and pout. I blab when I’m nervous and social gatherings of any sort make me nervous. And I hate that feeling.

I think I blab so much that Juju has learned to tune me out after the fifth word. “I will be there with you. I will zip your mouth shut everytime you open it.” she promises. And I am not sure how much to believe, because knowing me, my social meter is almost out of battery. But I also know for a fact that there is no winning against Justine. If she wants me to go to a party, I have to go to a party. Especially, since we missed out on partying together for a semester of Junior year when I was away in Australia.

“Fine. I’ll go.” I entangle my pinky with hers.

A few hours later, Juju and I are ready and tipsy enough for the party. Her pregame regime is brutal. I don’t like to drink a lot at these parties, mostly because the cheap alcohol gives me a migraine the next day. So we drink the expensive whisky that I brought from Australia. I have a higher tolerance than Juju, when she drinks one shot, I have to drink two!

“Okay, I am at level four right now on the drunken meter. Where are you?” I ask her. She stands up and loses balance. “I would say 6.” I say quickly as I catch her.

“I won’t drink much there anyway. So that’s great.” She chuckles as she grabs onto my red top that clings onto my body like skin.

It’s dips in the front which displays a nice cleavage, but makes me more conscious, but at least having loose jeans makes me feel good enough about my legs being covered. Justine on the other hand, is wearing a see through net top and a neon yellow bra inside and a black mini skirt with leather thigh high boots. Only she can dare to wear it in the early January cold.

Not that my clothes are in any way weather approved, but at least I won’t freeze my ass off. Juju at least has a boyfriend who can make her feel warm. If you know what I mean. *wink* *wink*.

“Jake’s here.” she says, looking at her phone.

We head down and Jake drives us to the party. He promised that he has a friend who is going to stay sober and drive us back, but I might skimp early.

We reach the party and you can hear it from a block away. Disco lights and drunk people out on the lawn. Great! I take a deep breath and brace myself for the crazy night ahead.

“Shots! We need shots!” Jake says as soon as he pulls us in the crowded room. I can’t hear him over the loud and meaningless music beats. Justine looks at my face and immediately pulls her mouth to my ear and screams. “I know that look! You are going to enjoy!” Ugh! She knows me too well.

“I will try.” I say as I look around. I see the room is full of people dancing, some making out in the corner, there’s a usual beer pong table, a sucky DJ who has no taste in music and a kitchen full of people making the most disgusting concoctions known to mankind.

Jake returns with five shots in his hands, barely juggling them. I take three out of his hands. I take a look at Justine and she is in no condition to drink. So I drink all the three shots myself and they hit me like a truck, bumping me up from a level 4 to level 6.

“That tastes disgusting! What was that?” I say after I feel the burning sensation in my stomach adding up to my nausea.

“Tequila and whiskey mixed with vodka.” He says and my expression is blank and he chuckles taking the shot glasses away from me. He’s trying to get me killed.

“Let’s dance, baby.” Jake says as he takes Juju’s hand into his and they head to the dance floor. So much so for enjoying the party.

Juju grabs onto my hand and drags me with her and I hate it. I hate being the third wheel with them, it makes me feel embarrassed. But not like I have any other option, because I don’t know anyone here. After a couple more awkward moments on the dance floor, I head to the kitchen to make a proper drink for myself. Whiskey and coke, my favourite!

I reach there to see that there is no coke left! Ugh! Well, at least there is a decent whiskey instead of the cheap shit. I pour myself a glass and dilute it with a little sprite.

It’ll do! I say to myself and gulp the glass. I don’t know how people sip on their drinks, I am hasty and just chug it. Unless it's wine. When I am drinking wine, suddenly I feel like a heiress of a multi-billion dollar business.

I am left alone when Justine is dancing with her boyfriend. And everyone else seems to be busy doing whatever they were doing. A couple more chugs later I am at level 9.

It is time for me to go home! There comes a point when I start drinking, when I know that I have had enough and can't keep going and I just go home.

I look around for Juju and just then, in the living room, I see a gorgeous man sitting on the leather sofa. A blonde woman is sitting in his lap, who is basically stroking his crotch with her tiny thighs. His chiselled jaw has stubble and his deep blue eyes which I can spot from a mile away.

Damn, his biceps are probably bigger than that blonde’s thighs. She’s tiny in front of him.

He leans his head back and then looks ahead and his brown hair falls beautifully off his face. They look so smooth and silky that he could easily advertise for a shampoo brand. Perfect length too! Neither buzzed nor too long, just long enough for me to run my hand through and grab onto.

If this was a movie, violins would be playing in the background right now. He pushes the blonde off his lap and I see him walking towards the kitchen. I think he catches me staring at him, but I head away from there as I feel the urgency to pee.

I head towards the bathroom and he passes me and our hands graze. It sends chills down my spine. Get a grip! I realise that he is actually taller than me too. I am wearing four inch heels and even then, he probably has a good five or six inches on me.

I come from the bathroom and on my way to the dance floor, vodka is poured down my throat by some drunk shit. Some just glide down my mouth and down my throat to my chest and disappear in my cleavage. It feels gross and sticky. That just bumped me from level 9 to level 10. Abort. I need to get home. Now!

◆◆◆

That’s the last thing I remember, before I wake up in bed next to Mr Handsome in nothing but what looks like an oversized shirt on me and my panties. My head is pounding like hell. I have zero recollection of how I got here and I have no fucking idea, where I am!

All I know is that I need to get out of here, before he wakes up. Although I take one more look at him, just for good measures. You know in case any tests come out positive after this. I’m sure that even level 10 drunk me would be smart enough to not let a man come inside her. Or do it without a condom in the first place.

Hopefully.

I don’t even know his name, remembering his face is the best thing I can do.

He looks at peace. Perfect nose and high cheekbones. His chest rises and falls in a rhythm which is music to my ears. And damn was I not imagining his biceps. They’re huge but his chest is probably bigger than mine. With defined abs like they were chiselled on a stone. Long lashes which make me envious.

And pink full lips.

I am almost tempted to know what they feel like. But I won’t. I look around and I spot my jeans and tip toe to grab them. I can’t find my bra and my shirt for god’s sake.

Ugh! Screw it. I’ll keep his shirt on. Not like he will miss one shirt, right? I put on my heels and tiptoe outside his room to enter the hallway which leads to stairs down to a huge living room, which is thankfully empty.

I head for the main door silently and decide to sprint outside. Just then the main door flings open before me and a swarm of men walk inside. I quickly turned around! Fuck. Thankfully no one has seen my face yet.

“Um…You okay?” someone asks me. I nod and scooch past them, facing my back against them and sprint outside! I covered my face with my hair, so there’s no way they knew that it was me, right?

Why did I do that? Now they’re going to think their friend slept with some ugly bitch.

That was the worst experience of my entire life!

Present time-

“Are you sure that we haven’t met before?” Marcus asks me.

“Positive! I am a Biology major and you are… well…a jock! So no way in hell is there a chance that our paths will ever cross.” I say almost too quickly. Maybe I am coming off as too defensive. I am still not sure how much he remembers, because I have hurt my brain trying to think about it.

His expression is that of annoyance. Maybe I should change my strategy here and keep anything related to that incident entirely out of discussion. “Okay… so why did you select this jock?” he points to himself. The way he says jock makes me feel guilty for saying that in the first place.

I clear my throat, not daring to meet his eyes this time. I stare at my shoes as I speak. “Well… as you know that in the journalism class, we were forced with none of our choice of people to interview and well, write a stupid article about it.” Please stop talking, Riya! “I am not a professional but I’ll need some info about you in regards to that. And let me emphasise on how you were not my first, second or third choice!”

Now would be a good time to zip up but I keep on going. “I hate that Angella got Raj!” I sigh loudly and Marcus chuckles in a husky voice.

I immediately lift my gaze towards him. His laugh is so genuine and innocent, completely opposite of how he looks. Snap out of it Ri! He’s a playboy who has slept with more than half of the women on campus and god knows how many more! He’s the definition of manslut. Or at least those are the rumours.

But he does have the looks for it. I will admit it. Because even the drunk me wouldn’t sleep with him if he wasn’t this good looking.

He clears his throat and looks at me with those deep blue eyes that make me go weak in the knees. “Okay Riya. So, you want to insult me and interview me at the same time, for free? What do I get out of it?” His gaze changes and there’s lust in his eyes. He swipes his thumb over his bottom lip and that jolts my body. I gulp hard and my lips part as a soft sigh escapes my mouth.

I force myself to snap out of it. I will not let his charms work on me anymore! “I don’t know. I thought that you were just supposed to do it! Why else would they assign us this stupid assignment then?” He grins now. All I want to know is what is going on in that sexy brain of his? Sexy? No, I meant jock brain.

He leans closer to me.“Yes, I mean I should get something in return.” He wets his lips and bites his lower lip now.

“You know what? I’d rather fail this class than ever sleep with you! Screw you. I’m done.” I stand up abruptly. I know I said that I would never sleep with him, but I already did! Too bad we both don’t remember.

He holds my hand and his rough calluses brush against my soft skin. Why does that turn me on?

I’m weird!

“I’m not asking you any of that. Those books you’re carrying… Are they yours?” He points towards my textbooks.

I roll my eyes at the obvious question. “No, they are my grandmother’s. She’s a freshman here.” I know my name is Riya, but my middle name is sarcasm. Just kidding. It’s actually Chandran. I know! That’s why I only go by my first name.

“Is your grandmother as smart and hot as you then?” I know I shouldn’t but I couldn’t help but blush a little. Not that I care that he finds me hot!

“Smarter and definitely way too hotter.” I say.

He clicks his tongue. “Too sad that I’m not into older women.” He pouts.

I take a step out of the booth but he stops me. He holds my hand again and this time I don’t brush it off. I let it linger just a while longer. I feel my pulse getting stronger with every second. My body has never reacted this way before. Then why him?

Why Marcus?