Mrs. Fletcher

How about 9:30 you owe me for this morning!!! Ha ha

I knew this would happen. That was why I’d dumped her in the first place, so I wouldn’t have to deal with this long-distance shit in college. But then last night I’d drunk-sexted her, begging to get with her one last time before I left town. She told me to fuck off, which I definitely deserved. I didn’t remember any of it until she showed up at my house in the morning, and totally ambushed me, in the best possible way. It’s your going-away present, she’d said, kneeling down in front of me and tugging on my boxers. And it was a great blowjob, too—way better than usual—but I didn’t think that meant we were back together, or that I owed her for anything, though I could see how she might feel otherwise.

Fine 9:30

Luv ya!

*

The pizza arrived—one large pepperoni, one large sausage, and one large cheese—and of course Sanjay turned out to be a vegetarian. We started giving him shit for it, until Dylan explained that it was a religious thing, which meant, according to PC regulations, that you weren’t allowed to joke about it.

“I forgot how much I love pizza,” Will told us. “I didn’t eat any all summer. Couldn’t even look at it.”

“Why not?” Rico asked.

Will shrugged. “I had a bad experience. You don’t want to hear about it while you’re eating.”

But we did, so he told us. The day after graduation, Will had gone to a party at this rich girl’s house, in the biggest McMansion he’d ever seen, with an indoor pool, a home gym, and something like eight bathrooms. The girl had been very clear that there wasn’t going to be any alcohol at the party, so Will had hit the pregame hard, multiple shots of Jack plus a THC-infused lollipop donated by someone’s uncle who suffered from chronic shoulder pain and had an understanding doctor. He had the munchies pretty bad when he got to the party, and it was like he’d walked into heaven—there was this amazing spread of fried chicken, lasagna, barbecue, an honest-to-goodness ten-foot-long sub, tons of great stuff. He’d already sampled a lot of it when the doorbell rang, and a delivery guy walked in with a stack of a dozen pizzas. A crowd had gathered around the buffet table, and one of Will’s buddies bet him twenty bucks he couldn’t eat a large pizza by himself. And not just any pizza. The one they call the Meat Bomb. Will said, Bring it on, bitch!

“No way,” said Rico.

“It was a throwdown,” Will explained.

He inhaled the first four slices like a machine. Midway through slice number five, though, he realized there was a problem.

“You know how it is. You’re feeling good, totally on top of your game. And then, out of nowhere, your stomach just clenches up and says, That’s enough, bro. Do not take another bite. But I still had three slices to go.”

“You didn’t eat them?” Rico said.

“The fuck I didn’t,” said Will. “I just kept shoveling that shit down my throat. But I knew it wasn’t gonna stay there.”

The spectators broke into applause when he finished, but Will didn’t stick around to enjoy it. He pushed through the crowd and made his way to the nearest bathroom, only to discover that the door was locked. He pounded on it a few times, but the occupant told him to wait his turn. He didn’t panic, because there was another bathroom off the kitchen. Unfortunately, that one was really popular. There were five or six people standing in line, and Will couldn’t really talk, which meant that he couldn’t explain his dilemma, so he just turned and headed upstairs, holding his stomach and gritting his teeth.

It was like a bad dream. Every time he found a bathroom, the door was either locked or a bunch of kids were waiting in line. So he just kept moving, hoping to find a toilet before it was too late. It was a huge house, and he pretty much gave himself the grand tour, visiting all three floors before he finally made it to the master bedroom, which was totally spectacular—a huge round bed and a wall that was all glass, looking out on a meadow—though Will didn’t have time to appreciate the view. He headed straight for the bathroom, and Praise the Lord, the door was unlocked. His stomach was already lurching when he burst in there and found himself staring at six of the prettiest girls in his school, all of them in bikinis, sitting in this giant Jacuzzi.

“Oh shit,” said Dylan. “Did you barf on them?”

Will shook his head. “I just gave them this sad little wave, like I was dropping by to say hello, and then I fucking bolted. I barely made it out to the hall, and that was it, the end of the road. I ducked into this little kid’s room. I thought there’d be a trash can or something, but I couldn’t find one, so I just yanked open a dresser drawer, pulled out all the clothes, and puked right in there. That whole fucking Meat Bomb pizza. And then I shut the drawer, wiped my mouth, and got the fuck outta there.”

“Did you tell anyone?” Dylan asked, when we were finally done groaning and laughing.

“Fuck no. What was I supposed to say? Oh, by the way, your little brother might not want to open his pajama drawer . . .”

“At least you took out the pjs,” Rico said. “That was thoughtful.”

“What could I do?” Will had that pissed-off look again. “Eight fucking bathrooms, and I can’t find a toilet to puke in? You can’t blame me for that.”

He shrugged and reached for another slice. Sanjay was just sitting there with his mouth hanging open, like he’d forgotten how to speak.

“Whaddaya think?” Rico asked him. “Too late to get back into the Honors Dorm?”

*

Zack and I returned to the room just in time for my Skype session with Becca. I asked if he’d mind giving me a little privacy.

“No problem,” he said. “I’ll put on my headphones.”

“Think you could maybe clear out for five or ten minutes? Won’t be more than that.”

“Why?” He gave me a sly look. “You gonna rub one out?”

“We just need to have the talk. We were broken up for most of the summer, but then we kinda backslid. I have to let her down easy.”

“Say no more, bro. I’ll go see who’s in the lounge. Text me when you’re done.”

“Thanks.”

I got out my laptop and logged on to Skype. Zack was on his way out when I placed the call, but then he changed his mind and sat down next to me on my bed, just out of camera range, as Becca appeared on the screen.

“Hey, baby.” She was wearing a little white tank top, tight enough to give her some cleavage, which wasn’t easy with her little boobs. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good,” I said. “How about you?”

“I’m okay.” She was talking in a breathy whisper, way more seductive than her normal voice, which could be kinda loud and bossy. “Where are you?”

“In my room.”

She licked her glossy lips. “Are you alone?”

I glanced at Zack, trying to let him know that the joke was officially not funny anymore, but he pretended not to understand. He mouthed the words She’s cute! and pumped his fist up and down over his crotch.

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