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1352 Words
Jasmine
The pounding in my head woke me before my alarm did. Well, that’s because I wasn’t in my room.
I groaned softly, squeezing my eyes shut as sunlight slipped through the curtains in thin golden lines, far too bright for the state I was in. Every inch of my body felt heavy, warm, sore in ways that made flashes of last night creep back into my mind before I was ready for them.
They flashed behind my eyes in broken pieces—the whiskey, dark rooms, rough hands, a deep voice against my ear.
Heat crawled up my neck despite the hangover threatening to split my head open. I pushed myself upright too fast and immediately regretted it.
“s**t…”
The room tilted slightly.
A low groan escaped me as I pressed my fingers against my temple. The sheets slipped down my body, cool air brushing against bare skin that still felt overly sensitive in places I refused to think about right now.
The unfamiliar room came into focus piece by piece. Dark walls, a black dresser, and a chair in the corner with my dress thrown over it carelessly.
I was at a hotel, it seemed.
Right. I swallowed hard. The sexy stranger.
My gaze shifted toward the nightstand beside the bed.
A glass of water sat there neatly beside two aspirin tablets and a folded note.
Take it. You’ll feel better.
My brows furrowed instantly.
I picked the note up, staring at the clean handwriting longer than necessary.
No name. Nothing else.
A frustrated sound left my throat as I pressed my fingers against my temple.
I couldn’t even remember his face properly.
Every time I tried, it blurred at the edges like smoke slipping through my fingers. I remembered broad shoulders. A rough voice. The weight of his stare in the dark.
But his face?
Nothing clear enough to hold onto.
Which honestly should’ve made this easier. It should’ve made me regret it. Instead, heat crept up my neck at the memory of his mouth against mine, and irritation twisted sharply in my chest.
“Fantastic,” I muttered bitterly.
Because somehow, against all logic, I didn’t regret last night one bit. That didn’t make it smart or remotely okay.
It was reckless. A drunken mistake made by a girl trying to destroy the image of her cheating boyfriend with something—someone else.
That was all it was.
I repeated that to myself twice while swallowing the aspirin dry.
By the third time, I almost believed it.
Almost.
*
The walk back to my hostel felt like a punishment.
My sunglasses barely hid the exhaustion in my eyes, and every step reminded me I’d made choices last night that sober Jasmine never would have survived.
Girls passed by laughing on their way to school, fresh-faced and energetic for the first day of their second year.
Meanwhile, I looked like I’d fought a war and lost.
By the time I got back to my hostel room, I barely had enough time to shower. Hot water poured over my skin while memories flickered through my head in frustrating flashes.
His hands at my waist. His voice low against my throat. The way he touched me, like he was trying not to.
I shut the water off aggressively.
No. Absolutely not.
I was not going to stand there romanticizing a one-night stand with a faceless stranger.
“Get it together, Jasmine,” I muttered to myself as I stepped out of the bathroom.
I dressed quickly, grabbed my bag, and rushed out the door after checking the time.
Of course, I was late.
My shoulders tightened immediately. Just perfect.
Voices echoed through the room while students filled almost every seat. I stood frozen near the entrance for half a second before Bella spotted me from the middle row.
Her eyes widened instantly. Then she waved dramatically and pointed to the empty seat beside her.
Relief flooded through my chest. I hurried over quickly, sliding into the seat beside her while trying not to look completely unhinged.
“Thank God,” I whispered, dropping my bag at my feet. “I thought I’d have to stand.”
Bella stared at me for exactly three seconds before grimacing. “Jesus, Jasmine.”
I blinked at her tiredly. “What?”
“You look horrible.”
I rolled my eyes and chuckled lightly. “Wow. Thank you.”
“No, seriously.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “What happened to you? Rough night?”
My fingers tightened slightly around my pen as images of my sexcapade coursed through my brain.
I looked away quickly so she wouldn’t notice how rosy my cheeks had turned. But Bella caught my reaction anyway. “Is this about Jason?”
The smile faded from my lips instantly. For a moment, I’d totally forgotten about what I’d seen that had led to the very adventurous night I’d had.
I sighed, nodding faintly. “Caught him naked in bed with Stella.”
She gasped, eyes wide. “Stella? Your bestie?”
I offered her a faint nod.
Her face hardened. “That idiot.”
“Bella—”
“No, seriously, if I ever see him—”
The lecture hall doors slammed shut loudly.
The room quieted almost instantly.
“Everyone settle down,” a deep male voice called from the front. “Class is about to begin.”
Something about that voice brushed against my memory hard enough to make my stomach tighten.
My eyes lifted automatically toward the front of the hall.
The lecturer stood with his back facing us, one hand braced against the desk while the other moved smoothly across the board.
“My name is Prof. Davin Jackson,” he said, writing it down on the board. “And I’ll be taking you for Nutritional Biochemistry this semester.”
Something in my chest tightened.
My brows pulled together slowly. Why the hell did that voice sound so familiar?
He set the marker down and turned toward the class.
And damn.
Handsome. Not the polished, pretty kind boys my age tried so hard to be either.
This man looked grown, mature in a way that immediately shifted the air in the room.
He was tall, easily over six feet, with broad shoulders that stretched the sleeves of his charcoal button-up just enough to hint at the toned muscle underneath.
The top buttons were undone carelessly, revealing his Adam’s apple, while the sleeves rolled to his forearms exposed veins and tanned skin that looked unfairly distracting.
His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, dark stubble shadowing it perfectly like he either forgot to shave or simply didn’t care enough to.
And those eyes—God.
They were sky blue, the kind of blue that looked dangerous. The kind that looked straight through you instead of at you.
My pulse stumbled violently.
Beside me, Bella let out a low whistle, leaning back into her seat. “Now that is a man,” she muttered under her breath, a smile playing lazily on her lips. “Now this semester might actually be worth attending.”
I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze down to my notebook for exactly two seconds before it drifted right back to him again against my own will.
Professor Jackson picked the marker back up like he had no idea half the female population in the hall had mentally stopped functioning.
“So we’re going to start with the basics,” he said smoothly, turning back toward the board. “Nutritional Biochemistry is the study of how nutrients and food components interact with biological systems at a molecular, cellular, and physiological level...”
His voice echoed through the lecture hall. He continued talking, writing terms across the board while students scrambled to keep up.
But honestly?
I knew damn well no girl in that room was actually listening to a single thing he was saying. Not with the way his muscles flexed beneath that shirt every time he moved.
Not with that voice.
And definitely not with that piercing gaze.
- Writer
