It happened last week, but I keep thinking about it.
I go to one of those old, prestigious universities -- the kind with ivy-covered buildings, ancient dining halls, secret societies, and far too many formal parties. I'm on the competitive volleyball team. That means early mornings, relentless training six days a week, and a constant rotation of protein shakes and bruises.
But it also means one incredible perk: the annual sports society ball. It's legendary. Every varsity athlete from every sport shows up -- rugby players in tuxedos, rowers with their broad shoulders, lean swimmers, powerful boxers, graceful basketball players. And last week? That party went far beyond expectations.
I got ready with my teammate Anna -- heels, hair, everything. We weren't dressing to blend in. We wanted to turn heads. And when we walked through the gates of that 14th-century college garden... we knew we'd nailed it. We felt like stars on a silver screen. The party was outdoors, styled with a lavish, Great Gatsby-inspired elegance. And everyone, guys and girls, looked stunning.
A couple of hours in, I was sipping a gin cocktail with my teammates when I saw him. He was dancing with his friends to "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" -- and God, the answer was yes.
He was clearly having the time of his life -- laughing with his friends, relaxed, magnetic. I nudged Anna and nodded toward him.
"Look at him." I murmured.
She glanced over, then smirked. "Definitely a rugby player. That body doesn't lie."
She was right. I looked at his wide and muscular shoulders under the fit white shirt. And, oh God, those muscular, strong thighs. I couldn't help but imagine what those thighs could do -- what he could do -- and I felt a warm pulse deep inside me.
So Anna and I started dancing, slowly making our way closer to him and his friends, moving to the rhythm like it was all part of the plan -- which, of course, it was.
Then the DJ dropped "I Gotta Feeling," and suddenly the party exploded. Everyone around us was singing, jumping, laughing -- elegance melting into sweat and abandon. And in the middle of it all, the rugby boys pulled us into their circle.
Just like that, I was right beside him. Up close, he was even more devastating -- tall, powerful, and radiating heat like a fire under skin. When he reached out, took my hand, and spun me around, I caught a breath of his cologne -- dark, woody, intoxicating. I had the strong impulse to kiss his neck, to lick his chest. But I controlled myself.
Instead, after dancing with the group for a couple songs more, I leaned in and asked, "You thirsty?"
"So thirsty!" He replied with a smile,
We slipped away from the crowd, leaving the pounding music and our tipsy friends behind, and wandered toward the drinks table -- then kept walking, past the fairy lights and the trimmed hedges, until we were deep in the quieter parts of the garden.
Then we left our friends and the loud music and we took a walk around the garden. It was late. We got to talk. His name was Giovanni, Italian MA student in chemistry. And yeah. He was in the rugby team.
We talked. His name was Giovanni -- Italian, here for a master's in chemistry. And yes, of course, he was on the rugby team.
"Nah, I don't buy it," I teased, nudging him. "You're way too skinny for that."
He chuckled. "Oh yeah? Feel these babies."
He flexed his arm, inviting. I reached out, but just before I touched it, he pulled me in instead -- close. The move caught me off guard, and suddenly, our bodies were inches apart. I didn't hesitate. I kissed him.
It wasn't sweet. It wasn't shy. It was the kind of kiss that makes your knees weak and your stomach clench -- hungry, unfiltered, like he wanted to taste everything I had to give. And God, he could kiss. Sure, the technique was perfect, but that wasn't what made it unforgettable. It was the heat behind it.
Then his fingers slid into my hair, threading through the roots like he knew exactly how to undo me. When he tugged -- gently, but with purpose -- I felt it all the way down my spine. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his breath hot on my lips.
"God, you're so hot," he murmured -- and this time, the Italian accent in his voice came out thicker, rougher. He kissed my cheek -- a soft, teasing peck -- and somehow, that felt even dirtier. Like a promise. Like an anticipation.
We wandered toward a quieter corner of the garden where a set of oversized, inflatable slides stood -- ridiculous, out of place, and completely irresistible. We flew down the slide, laughing like kids, and tumbled into a heap at the bottom. My gown had ridden up -- far up. When I sat up, I realized my lacy thong was on full display. I instinctively reached to pull the dress down, cheeks flushed, but he caught my hand.
"No. Wait."
