Sunday.
Ryan sat on his thrift-store couch, the morning light filtering through the grimy window, casting faint streaks across the trashed apartment. Empty beer cans littered the table, the Solo cup still lay tipped over, and the air hung heavy with the stale musk of last night's debauchery. He slumped forward, elbows on his knees, hands raking through his short brown hair, simmering in a bitter stew of guilt and jealousy. The clock ticked past 9:30 a.m., and his mind churned over the mess he'd made--Carson, the blackmail, the web he was forced to spin, it all spiraling into a night where his douchebag coworkers got almost everything he'd ever dreamed of. A few hours in her orbit, and they'd seen her naked, gotten blowjobs, watched her pose in every filthy way imaginable leaving no square inch to the imagination. Those pricks didn't deserve it, didn't earn it, and he hated them for it, hated himself more for letting it happen, for causing it to happen.
The bedroom door creaked open, and Megan shuffled out, her bare feet scuffing the carpet. She looked wrecked--hungover, her blonde hair a tangled nest, her plaid pajama pants sagging low, the baggy T-shirt swallowing her petite frame. Her face was a mess, crusted cum flaking on her cheeks and chin, a stark reminder of the night's end she hadn't washed off. Ryan's heart raced, a jolt of shock and twisted arousal hitting him, but he kept his mouth shut, eyes darting away as she rubbed her temples and flopped onto the couch beside him.
"Ugh, my head," she groaned, voice raspy, squinting against the light. "Last night's a blur. I remember most of it--truth or dare, the dares, all that--but the last part's just bits and pieces. Like, flashes." She paused, then jolted upright, eyes wide with sudden panic. "Wait, did you see the last part? Did you see me, like, you know, at all?"
Ryan's pulse spiked, the glimpse of her on her knees, only her naked back exposed to him--sucking their dicks--flashing behind his eyes, but no memory of any of the forbidden treasures he sought. He shook his head fast, voice steady. "No, Megs, I didn't. Kept my eyes covered, and I stayed out 'til they texted me back in. We're good."
She exhaled, slumping back, relief washing over her. "Okay, good. Thank God. To go through all of that, trying to make it all better for us, only for it to ruin everything," She rubbed her face, flakes of dried cum crumbling unnoticed, and her tone softened, reflective. "So, how was it for you, was it... hot? Do you want our night to get here even faster? I remember you had a boner, I have never seen you with one, other than that infamous night in the car back in high school."
He swallowed, the truth and the charade tangling in his throat. He had to keep it going, keep Carson's leash from tightening, but looking past Carson's evil trap, and even the torture of the event, it was, for some reason, hot. She was sexy--beyond his wildest, forbidden dreams, a vision he couldn't touch. "Yeah, I don't want to, you know, sound disrespectful, but I would really like for the day to come quick; it NEEDS to," he admitted, voice low, in honest desperation. Slightly disarmed by his honest revaluation, "And...everything that happened last night, it was all beyond my wildest imagination. You were unreal, Megs, just...." Ryan's frustration began to return as the visions of her grand display of raw sexuality, were replaced by the images of those pricks' smug faces, and also, well... their pricks. Those fucking douchebags.... With careful restraint, Ryan squeezed out, "It being for them, it's not ideal, you know?"
Her lips curved, a tired but pleased smile breaking through the hangover. "Ya, maybe it looked like it was for them, but it was for you. Plus, it was kinda fun, honestly. A little too degrading, but I liked it, knowing how much it was doing for you. Plus, I mean, we don't get out much, and you heard them, those types of games usually get a lot more wild, apparently." She trailed off, picking at her pajama hem, her brow furrowing. "Of course, I'd rather be sexy for you some other way, you know? Not just them using me like I'm a piece of meat. I just want to get to where it is us, with no more rules, we need to turn the clock and be waking up on our wedding day, wouldn't that be nice. Eleven more months."
Ryan nodded, guilt slicing deeper. "Yeah, we'll get there. God, we should just elope," he said, the words slipping out, reckless and raw. Megan started to lean into him, but at his last syllable, she pulled back sharply--not breaking the embrace, just enough to let him see the scowl twisting her face.
"And what, have our parents lose it, cut us off, ignore us for years?" she snapped, heat flaring in her voice. "Student loans already suck--imagine paying it all ourselves. Don't even go there, Ry. The night's ours, but the wedding? That's their show--250 guests, only 20 ours." Her tone softened as she caught the regret in his eyes, a faint smirk tugging her lips. "Though maybe we sneak in three extra plates--for you-know-who."
Ryan backpedaled fast. "I didn't mean it, Megs--just a dumb fantasy. What I'm saying is I have always needed that night, after least night, I really need it. I can't have it now, but I want it, bad. Now, more than ever, I really want it," A heavy pause hung as she soaked in his longing, her eyes locked on his. "For me," he added, voice low, aching, with regret soon following.
Megan slipped from his arms, turning to fuss with her hair, a delicate shield. Ryan's gut twisted--he'd let too much spill, raw feelings he'd sworn to bury deep, or risk unraveling everything: the night he'd chased for nearly a decade, now a gift for his enemies if she saw through him. She spun back, words already tumbling out, sharp and probing. "If this is about last night, it was for you, Ry. I checked with you on every dare. You had a boner! So what's this? Are you happy it happened, or regretting it? Wanting our night sooner because I turned you on, or because you're jealous it wasn't you?"
Her clarity hit like a slap, rare and dead-on, and Ryan recoiled. He couldn't dodge this--she'd smell the lie if he faltered. No more cracks; he had to seal it shut. Hands on her shoulders, he closed the gap, voice steady as stone. "I love you, and I loved last night. I wanted it to happen just the way it did. I am not jealous, I am excited to see how devoted you are to me, and all you are seeing is my nerves because, well, I haven't ever seen this kind of stuff before. You have shown me a new side that I hope was there, and know I now; it just makes me want the night to come even faster, but all that means is the night is going to be even better when it gets here. We have 11 months, let's do it, together until then, and forever after."
Megan's frown melted, a slow smile blooming as his words sank in. Ryan cringed inside, the lie locking in his fate, finally accepted as absolute. There is no escape now.
By 10:15 a.m., they'd showered--separately, of course--and headed out for groceries, the corner store a five-minute walk. Megan wore a fresh skirt, light gray and knee-length, paired with a loose sweater, her hair pulled into a messy ponytail. Ryan carried an empty reusable bag, the normalcy of the errand a thin shield against his brooding. They grabbed bread, milk, and some cheap pasta, chatting about nothing--work schedules, a leaky faucet Big Jake still hadn't fixed--until the apartment building loomed on their return, the front door in sight.
