After a wild, drunken class reunion, I woke up next to a male model.

I had no clue what I was doing since it was my first time in this kind of situation.

I called my best friend for help on what to do, and while the male model was still out cold, I left my wallet and bolted.

When I got home, my best friend dragged me over to show me a picture of her new boyfriend.

My jaw dropped. The guy in the photo was the spitting image of the man I had just left.

——

At our university class reunion, the class president had chosen a fancy club known for its stunning male escorts.

After a bathroom break, I bumped into one of the escorts. He had this otherworldly charm, like a mystical figure out of a fantasy show, and his gaze was intense enough to make anyone's knees buckle.

Clearly drunk, he slurred, "Miss, I'm from Suite 305. Can you help me get back there?"

It was obvious he was so drunk he got lost in his own workplace.

He towered over me at six foot one, and he had a warm and slightly raspy voice. My mind raced with inappropriate thoughts.

"You're lost, huh? Follow me," I said, my voice betraying my own excitement.

What followed was a blur of passion and poor decisions. When I woke up to the aftermath, I could not help but question every choice I had made.

I had had relationships before, but this was uncharted territory for me.

Even though I had never done this before, I knew I had to pay up.

While he was sleeping like a log, I quietly got dressed and called my best friend, Macie Lawson. She always bragged about being the queen of nightclubs, so she definitely knew the market rate for such encounters.

"That depends on the body, looks, and service. The better they are, the more expensive. Why do you need to know?" she replied, her curiosity piqued.

I took another look at him. He looked amazing. The blanket just barely covered his waist, revealing his perfectly toned abs and long, straight legs. Remembering how he called me 'honey' with that husky voice last night but acted like a beast for an hour straight, I felt a dull ache in my waist and swallowed hard.

It hadn't just been a good time; it had been an absolute feast.

To avoid any awkwardness, I left my wallet on the nightstand. It had the cash I withdrew yesterday. Worried it might not be enough, I also left a note with my phone number.

When I got back to the house I shared with Macie, she practically dragged me to the couch to show off a photo of her new boyfriend.

"I don't want to see. You could make a whole album out of your exes, but none of them lasted more than two months," I muttered, trying to shift my aching back into a more comfortable position.

"Oh, but this one is different. This time, I've found true love. He's the head of surgery at my hospital. Just look!" she insisted, her rare seriousness catching my curiosity.

I reluctantly glanced at her phone screen, and immediately, a wave of discomfort washed over me. The face in the photo was unmistakable—it was the guy I had slept with last night.

A friend request popped up on Messenger: [I'm Henry Gordon. Wendy, why did you just leave after spending the night with me?]

His profile picture was a cartoon character in a white lab coat, and his bio said he was the head of surgery at the same hospital where Macie worked.

I quickly covered my phone and looked at Macie, my stomach in knots. "Macie, does your boyfriend's last name happen to be Gordon?"

Macie burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. "Wendy, you actually remember that? I talk about you to him all the time. I even showed him our photos together. He's dying to meet you," she said, still chuckling.

I could barely keep my voice steady, "So, he knows me?"

"Of course, you're my best friend,"

In my 27 years alive as Wendy Jones, I had never felt such a wave of guilt. My one-night stand was with my best friend's boyfriend.

Macie went to work, and I feigned a stomach ache to get a day off. I declined her offer to stay and take care of me.

My stomach wasn't hurting, but my life felt like it was. I needed space to think.

I lay in bed, still in my makeup, envisioning countless ways Macie might find out and confront me.

When the doorbell rang, I opened the door, feeling utterly defeated.

Henry was leaning against the doorframe, swinging my wallet between his fingers. A smug smile played on his lips. "Wendy, we meet again. Did you miss me?"

How could this guy be so forward even when sober?

I stared at him, completely shocked. "H-How do you know where I live?"

"Macie told me," he replied nonchalantly. "She said you had a stomach ache this morning, so I wanted to check on you. Was I too rough last night? Sorry, I'll be gentler next time."

Next time? He seriously thought there was gonna be a next time?!

Alright, I had to admit that I was really into him last night, but it was not on purpose. Now that we were both sober and he knew who I was, he was still saying stuff like that? Was he nuts?

Henry walked in like he owned the place, sat down, and pulled me by the wrist, making me sit on his lap.

"Hey, what are you—mmph." I tried to protest, but Henry covered my face with a cold, wet cloth, making it hard to breathe. For a moment, I thought of those old shows where they smothered people with a wet cloth. Was Henry here to silence me? Was all that flirting just to distract me?

Luckily, he removed the cloth quickly and started wiping my face.

He was wiping my face?

I had a wild guess... Was he taking off my makeup?

"Wendy, you shouldn't wear makeup for too long. It's bad for your skin. I wanted to help you remove it last night, but you tied my hands."

God, I wanted him to stop talking.

His movements were gentle, his breath lightly touching my face. I could see his long eyelashes fluttering. Henry was really handsome, or I would not have been so blinded by lust and made a huge mistake last night.

After removing my makeup, he sounded hurt as he asked, "Wendy, why didn't you accept my friend request?" Henry's voice cut through the awkward silence.

Why? Did he really need to ask?

My stomach churned at the memory. "Last night... was a mistake. I was drunk, okay? I thought you were someone else. And if I'd known you were with Macie, I would've rather slept with a dog than with you. Let's just forget it ever happened, okay? Keep it between us. You get me?"

I thought I was clear, but Henry looked wounded. "Are you trying to dodge responsibility here?"

Honestly, I thought he seemed a bit off. He did not seem to get it.

Before I could respond, the living room door creaked open, and Macie stepped in, her eyes narrowing when she saw Henry. My pulse quickened, my mind racing to find an excuse.

"Henry? What are you doing here?" Macie asked, suspicion lacing her tone.

Henry glanced at me, his expression a mix of sadness and frustration. I jumped in, desperate to take control of the situation. "Macie, Mr. Gordon is here to see you."

Macie turned to me with a smile. "Looks like you two have already met. Oh, Wendy, add him as a friend, will you? You know each other now, so stay in touch."

Sometimes, I really wanted to know what was going on in Macie's head. How could she ask another woman to add her boyfriend's contact information and keep in touch?

"Are all med students this weird?" I muttered under my breath.

Macie once juggled two handsome guys at the same time and asked me what to do.

"Give me one," I joked at the time, half-serious.

To my surprise, she grinned and said, "Which one do you want?"

I never thought she would actually consider sharing a boyfriend with her best friend.

Thinking about it now, maybe Macie loved me a lot and trusted me completely. Great, I felt even guiltier now.

Under Macie's strict demand, I accepted Henry's friend request.

"We have a dinner party tonight. Come with us, Wendy," Henry invited.

I wanted to decline, but Macie's killer glare stopped me in my tracks. I didn't dare say no. Disrespecting her boyfriend would mean disrespecting her.

I had no choice but to go back to my room and change. Halfway through changing, my Messenger pinged. Henry, that rascal, sent me a sticker of a cat blowing a kiss.

Seriously? While Macie was chatting with him in the living room? I started doubting Henry's character. Macie, who had been a pro in the dating scene, might have messed up with Henry.

I could not hold back and warned him: [Behave yourself!]

They called it a party, but only three people showed up—one man and two women, all from Macie's department. Henry had booked a small private room, just the right size for six people.

Their conversation was all about patients and medical terms I could not understand, so I just kept eating, feeling more out of place with each passing minute.

As I was eating, a sudden tingling sensation jolted my ankle, nearly making me choke on my food. I shook it off, assuming it was just my imagination.

Moments later, my ankles were clamped together, held tightly by someone's legs. Panic surged through me. I glanced up and found Henry's eyes locked on mine, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

I was wearing a long dress, and even through the thin fabric, I could feel the warmth of his skin on my ankles and calves.

What the hell was he doing?

I scanned Macie's expression, praying she had not noticed anything. My attempts to free myself only made Henry tighten his grip. Fear gnawed at me as he continued chatting nonchalantly with the person next to him, as if nothing was amiss. Then, my phone buzzed with a message from him.

[Wendy, stop looking at me and eat.]

Seriously? He knew this was messed up!

I shot back a message, my fingers trembling: [Henry, what the hell is wrong with you? You like this, don't you?]

His response was immediate: [You wanna find out the next time?]

I bit my lip, too stunned to reply.

…

Back home, I paced my room, replaying the bizarre encounter over and over. I had to confront him. Mustering my courage, I reached for my phone. Before I could dial, a video call from Henry popped up.

I thought that it was better to do this face-to-face, so I answered the call.

What greeted me was Henry's perfectly sculpted abs dominating the screen. I could make out the sharp V-line above his gray briefs.

"Henry, what the hell are you doing?!" I yelled, my voice shaking with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

The camera shifted to his face, his expression sheepish. "You said last night you liked it and couldn't stop talking about it, so I thought I'd make you happy," he said, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

I stared at him, my mind racing. What had I gotten myself into?

Then, the camera started to move lower again. It was dangerously close to showing too much. I took a deep breath and forced my eyes away from his abs.

"Henry, you can't just flaunt your body like this. You have a girlfriend! What are you thinking?" I snapped.

Henry blinked at me, his expression innocent. "What? I'm just showing it to you."

I was speechless. Did he really think sleeping with me didn't count as cheating? "Henry, cut it out. You're attractive, sure, but I can't betray Macie."

He looked genuinely puzzled. "I don't think Macie would mind. We do our own thing."