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diary entry: april 2012 - one night stand, Nathan Around 4a..
🕑 Added 2023-03-10 01:02:31 +0000 UTC diary entry: april 2012 - one night stand, NathanAround 4am it strikes you what a good decision it was not to hide tonight. If you had stayed in and watched a rom-com instead of going to Seth’s pre-game, if you hadn’t played flip cup, if you hadn’t followed the party to Senior Village, you would not be here now. Instead of sulking in your dorm room because everyone on the hall is talking shit about you, you went to Senior Village and looked for faces you recognized in the crowd and wandered around and kept seeing him, the cute freshman whom you have been aware of from afar at radio station meetings and sunny afternoons on the quad. Just this afternoon you pointed him out to Matt and said “that hipster knows how to dress.”
Seth has gallivanted off somewhere in his bunny ears and you are alone and you see that cute freshman right next to you again and again and you think, what’s stopping you? It’s true that being pushy has not always ended in your favor, but all of the beer helps and you introduce yourself and he smiles wide. Nathan, a freshman, single.
You walk back to the dorms and invite yourself into his room and he is not what you expected, inexperienced but enthusiastic. He says he hasn’t done this before. You don’t know what he means, if he is a virgin or if this is his first random hookup. But it’s none of your business either way.
You have both had a lot to drink and the condom won’t stay on, but when his asshole roommate demands that you guys get out (I’m pretty sure he’s an alcoholic, Nathan laughs), you invite him back to your single across the hill. You both giggle, shoeless and half-dressed as you sneak through the building, your bra and panties bunched up in your fist. It is comfortable and sexy and you feel like you kiss him for hours and ramble to fill the silences. He’s shy. You whisper against his lips if you can see him again and he says yes. You almost fall asleep against his soft chest, trading sleepy kisses between quiet snores and tiny yawns that make him chuckle. His fingers trace patterns along your arm.
Around five thirty you tumble into kisses and he is hard under denim and you ask if he wants to try again. He fingers you hard, making you whimper and keen. He looks up at you with big doe eyes, his bruised lips parted in undisguised awe, and you both let out matching groans of relief as you sink down onto him, ass against your heels. As he curves his fingers behind your neck to pull you down for a kiss, you feel important. He fucks fierce and soft, slow and fast, new and vulnerable and exploring, still shy, but he bites at your neck and you think this one might be a keeper.
The bedspread is wet. He asks if he can help you clean it up. It is your brilliant idea to go watch the sunrise on the quad even though he has no shoes, his button down shirt hanging open over his chest. When the sky turns orange and pink over the Chapel you realize you don’t know what to say to this perfect stranger. But you would like to know him. You tell him to text you if he wants to and kiss him goodbye.
