Biker's Virgin

“Aw, don't worry about it, Bee! That situation with Andrew was just… Look, I know how bad it was. I was there with you, remember? And, I know betrayal like that is ridiculously hard to get over. But he doesn’t deserve any more of your time or grief. I just want to see you happy again, that's all. I just want my best friend in the whole world to be happy.”

“Awww. I so love you! Come here,” I commanded, and I gave her a big, tight hug. “You’re right. No more of my time. So, enough about me,” I insisted as I let Leslie loose from my grip. “How was your day?”

“It was okay. How would you like to act in a TV show like The Walking Dead?”

“Horror would be such fun to do! But I wouldn’t be opposed to a little rom-com action with a hot guy,” I said with a laugh. “Why? Where did that question come from?”

“Well, I may have a part in a student film coming up. Some sort of slasher flick, plenty of blood.”

“Nice! You'll kill it. Pun fully intended.”

We both chuckled.

“They might need some extras if you’re interested,” she added.

“That might be fun. Keep me posted.”

“You know I will.”

“Alright, Les, I need some sleep,” I said. “I left you a plate from dinner in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

“That sounds awesome. I've got a long day again tomorrow.”

“Yeah, me, too. I’m gonna grab a shower and hit the sack.”

“Night, Bee.”

“Night.”

I stopped by the kitchen to rinse my cup then headed to my bathroom for a hot shower. It was just what I needed to wind down before bed. After a lingering in the shower for a while, I shut the water off and proceeded with my bedtime routine. I dried my hair just enough that I could put it into a braid and it would finish drying while I slept.

The moment I stepped into my room, I could hear it.

That noise again. Yep, that noise coming from the other side of the wall. Muffled grunts, groans, moans, and the rhythmic thumping of a headboard against the wall growing faster and faster.

“Oh, my word, again? Really?”

I stood in silence for a few moments, not quite knowing what I should do. Well, not in silence exactly; it was kind of hard to block out the sounds coming through the wall.

I ran through the options in my head. Should I tell Leslie? Should I knock on the wall? Should I maybe knock on their door and confront them? Or write a note and slide it under the door? Should I put on some headphones and listen to music to drown out the sound?

As the noises grew more and more intense, I felt the same uncomfortable flush of emotions washing over me as I thought about Emerson having hot, passionate sex with the bleached blonde floozy, as my granny would have called her.

I decided not to tell Les. She was way too fiery, and she'd almost certainly get in their faces and turn the situation into a confrontation, which was definitely not something we needed. Also, there was no way I could face them after revealing that I was privy to the extracurricular activities going on. It would be way too awkward. I couldn't leave a note, either. While it wasn't as direct as talking to them about the commotion, it would still make for more awkwardness considering I'd have to see Emerson regularly for chemistry.

With a resigned sigh, I headed to the kitchen for a glass of wine to take my nerves back down a few notches. I needed a good night's sleep to get through all the classes I had to face the next day, and with what sounded like Horny College Sluts 3 being filmed in the room next door to mine, there was no way I'd be able to sleep without something to help.

I poured a glass of wine and washe

d it down, then made my way back to my room, slipped in my earphones and put on some soothing tunes. I crawled into bed and tried to focus on the ambient vibes of the music, allowing it to drown out the muffled sounds from next door, and waited for the wine to kick in and work its magic.

Chapter Eight

Emerson

I woke up with a pounding throb hammering pulse after pulse through my head. My mouth was dry as a desert in midday sun, and my stomach felt like it was twisted in knots. I struggled out of bed and hobbled over to the bathroom, where I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet, expecting to puke. I hovered there for a while, but nothing happened, so I pushed myself to my feet and stumbled to the shower to get cleaned up.

The shower made me feel a little better, but it wasn’t enough. I needed a breakfast that wasn’t going to leave me praying to the porcelain gods and a powerful shot of caffeine to get me back to something that resembled a human. I couldn't believe I had been weak enough to let Chris talk me into drinking. Hell, it had been a Monday night. I'd felt bad for turning him down on Sunday. Still, Monday night drinking of any kind was a terrible idea. He'd said it would just be one quiet beer, but I should have known better. The promise of just one beer had quickly turned into an arm twisting—just one more, then after that, just one more. When ten o’clock rolled around, I finally put my foot down and called it quits. When I texted Chris at midnight, he hadn't even left the bar yet. Because we'd started early, I hadn't even eaten dinner, so I now felt ravenous.