God, she told herself she wasn’t going to get herself distracted with Cam again. But did this count? As she sat on his bed, she began to unbutton her dress from the top of her u-neck. Drunken encounters didn’t count, she decided. Besides, everyone had needs. And Nate just sort of got her in the mood for something to happen, and Cam was far easier to be around than someone new who couldn’t handle his liquor.

It was like Deja Vu from before. Cat insisted she should get back to the dorms, and Cam completely miss-read it to mean that they should both go back to the dorms. And, well, by the time he kissed her, she’d already agreed it was a good idea. Even if maybe it wasn’t. It was nice to feel something when he kissed her, though, so she was easily convinced.

Now here she was, waiting for Cam to return, fumbling with her dress on his bed, trying to convince herself this was the last time.

Cat unbuttoned her dress to the point where her bra finally poked through from her open neckline. She should stop there, just in case he came back and changed his mind. But good lord, if he took too much longer….

The sound of keys jingling nearly made her jump out of her skin. Instead, she caught herself from slipping off the bed and lay back, arching her back enough so that one strap dropped just a little bit, baring her shoulder as she leaned on his unmade sheets. Was this a good view? Sexy enough? Was she trying too hard?

But when the door open, she could only groan.

“Noooo,” she cried, shutting her eyes. Peter, why?

“Why are--are you here?” Well, he seemed to be just as sound of mind as she was. Which meant that he wasn’t. He could hardly open the door the correct way, and his key stayed inside the knob when he finally managed to push it open, as if he forgot which way the door went. His normally kempt hair looked as if someone took a fistfull of it, then didn’t smooth it back, which was never something Sober Peter would allow. She hated to admit it, but it wasn’t a bad look for him. Fit his jawline better than his usual perfect hair style. And with those rolled-up sleeves….

Cat sighed and let herself fall back against Cam’s bed. She nearly hit her head on the wall, but missed by inches. Thank goodness. She couldn’t handle another head injury. Especially this drunk.

“Getoutam--” Peter hiccuped. “This is my room!” Pft! Cam’s room. Cat sat up to point at him, though the movement made her sway. She took a moment to recover. God, was that the tequila, the vodka, the moonshine, or whatever else was put in that Jungle Juice?

“Hardly!” she finally answered, dismissing the fleeting worries of cirrhosis. “Cam’s just takin’ a piss. Then--” Her hand flew to her mouth to cover her burp, but thankfully Peter was too busy complaining to notice.

“I’m too drunk for this, go to your room--!” As he stumbled, stepping on his own feet, to his bed, Peter fumbled against his desk chair before he caught himself on his bed frame. Good lord, at least she could walk. Sort of. She made it here without falling, and she liked to think she would have even if she didn’t lean on Cam the whole way here.

“No, Hannah’s sleeping! She has a--something or other. Meeting or something. The thing with the teacher stuff.” Plus, she gave Cam all her latex-free condoms, expecting their rendezvous from earlier in the year to last longer. She knew he still had some, tucked away in his sock drawer.

Peter twisted to face his bed, his breathing hard as he oriented himself. Cat, for a brief moment, wondered if she was sitting up, or if she suddenly went upside-down, because it certainly felt that way. But when her feet touched the ground, her head jerked, reminding her where she was. Feet on the ground, hands on the mattress to steady herself. Cam. She was just waiting for him to get back from the bathroom. She’d already un-did the hard buttons, and everything else was easy access, if Cam ended up being too fucked up to do it himself. Maybe re-creating that encounter from Hannah’s party at the beginning of the year would reverse whatever effect that was put on her, would release the pressure she felt even now.

She just needed that feeling to go away. Every day it grew, and it seemed to only get worse as time went on. For an insane moment, she briefly considered Peter as a suitable alternative if Cam wasn’t able to help her. But that was crazy.

She shut her eyes for a moment to orient herself. “Cam’s gunna--gunna be right back. You should go to one of your whatevers,” Cat muttered as she gestured to the door. “Where’s that girl? Go with her.” Peter finally seemed to be able to turn around, though he didn’t look any more compliant.

“I don’t wanna--I’m too drunk to sleep in the hallway, please--go to your room or something. Come on….” She laughed too loud, and watched as he swayed in place.

“And I’m not drunk enough to fuck in front of an audience! Leave!” Though as she said it, and moved a hand to pull her dress down to its proper place, Peter’s eyes finally fell on her, as if realizing who she was for the first time since he burst into the room and left his keys in the door. He stared at her legs, bare, hardly being covered by the hem of the dress she just pulled down. Cat’s heart skipped a beat when her bra strap fell from her shoulder. She hadn’t realized that when she slid off the bed, that she didn’t take most of her outfit with her. Was he staring at her because he was too drunk to notice who he was staring at, or was he staring because she just nearly flashed him?

“What?” he asked finally. Oh, he was smashed. Cat giggled, pointing to make fun of him--but that was as far as she got. He seemed to at least understand that she was insulting him without words, and frowned.

“Noooo,” the tall blond started again. “Go to your room. Come on…..”

“No, Hannah’s sleeping!”

“Go somewhere else….” Maybe if Cat hadn’t also been whining like a child at that moment, she might have found Peter’s voice annoying. But for whatever reason, part of her didn’t mind this, the arguing, the whining. It was entertaining, released a little bit of the tension that crept into her throat. Staring at him from just a few feet away, though both of them gripped their respective mattresses for support. Neither were capable of standing up on their own.

“You go somewhere else,” she spat. “Cam’s on his way back.”

“Where, like your room?”

“Huh?” Wait, what did he mean by that? And as she asked, Peter started to smile, his stupid, smug, dimply smile that simultaneously lit her stomach on fire and made her throat tight.

“That’s vacant, right? Okay. Sure. I’ll go somewhere else.”

“Wait, that’s not….” She didn’t like what he was insinuating. “You can’t go there! Hannah’s sleeping.”

Peter finally pushed himself off of his mattress, propelling him to the center of the room. He took a moment to steady himself. “Then I’ll wake her up.” Though he took his time standing up straight, his shirt holding onto the wrinkles his bed created. What was that, linen? How did he manage to keep it all unwrinkled until now? “She’s been trying to get with me for a while now.”

“What--you--she has not!” Cat lied. She knew as she said it that it wasn’t true. But this was not happening on her watch. “You’re not going to my room--you’re not fucking my roommate!"

Peter snorted as he sorted his shirt out, pulling it down to try and straighten it. “Why do you get a say in that?”

“’Cause she doesn’t want you!” As she said it, flashes of the other night, when Hannah gripped for Peter’s collar, swayed against him and invited him to stay flooded Cat’s mind.

“Hah!” Peter fully belly-laughed, throwing his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he mocked her. When he recovered, he took an unsteady step toward her. He seemed almost surprised at himself, when he stopped just inches from her, swaying backward to correct his movement. She wanted to laugh at him, but for whatever reason, nothing happened, and her words stayed caught in her throat.

Cat stared up at him as she white-knuckled the mattress behind her. The way he stared down at her, swaying so close. She bit her lip. This is why she needed to just get a quickie with Cam and bounce to other, greener pastures. She could hardly contain herself and this was Peter, for crying out loud. Though…she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought that maybe--

Peter wobbled back and forth, staring down at her. Their movements synced, both of them holding in a breath, afraid to let it out. She tried, desperately, to look in his eyes, but she kept exploring his face, his red cheeks, his loose jaw. It was maybe the first time she saw that he wasn’t just holding himself, forcing composure. He couldn’t keep himself together. Now she saw the bags under his eyes, the flush of his skin on his chest from his unbuttoned shirt. The soft lines of his collarbone, even a faint scar on his neck. His skin looked so soft; she had to physically bite her lips together to stop herself from closing the distance between them. His shirt looked light and silky. Maybe she should grab it, just to keep herself steady, to get a better feel for his hot breath on her neck.

“You think I….” When he spoke, her eyes fluttered to his lips, watching them part and morph to the words. Would he taste like Jungle Juice, or one of the other mixed drinks? “You think I don’t know when someone wants me?” A cold shiver ran down her spine as the smirk punctuated his point. Did--did he see that? Did he cause that? When Cat finally tried to catch his expression, he wasn’t looking for eye contact. While one of her hands dug into the sheets, another went completely numb. He took his time meeting her gaze, and when he finally did, it took considerable strength to keep her hand down, to prevent herself from raising it and touching his unshaven cheek.

She finally let out the breath she’d held with Peter, slowly, shakily. He looked down to her, inches away. He could close the gap so easily, just sway a little closer….

“Oh, shit, are we having a threesome?” Cam’s voice felt like ice water down the back of her dress. Cat jumped, partially from Cam’s voice, partially because all of a sudden her numb hand had feeling again, the sudden contact of Peter’s right beside her, holding the mattress tightly; Peter blinked, as if waking up, and leaned back a little to look at to his roommate. He didn’t seem to notice her hand, giving her an extra moment to snatch it away. Somehow she was so out of breath it was as if she ran up a flight of stairs.

“Huh?” Peter sounded. He didn’t seem to hear what Cam said. Cat still struggled to even register that he spoke in the first place. Oh, God. What was that? What just happened?

“Is that a no?” Cam asked. Cat shut her eyes hard, shaking her head. Wait. A threesome? With Peter? No way.

She finally turned to address the man she was supposed to be hooking up with. She forced her thoughts back a few moments, traveling through her slow and unhelpful urges as if they were made of glue. “He’s gunna go try and fuck Hannah--make him stop.”

Cam only seemed amused. “Oh, hell yeah! Go for it, man!”

"No, do not go for it--” But Peter already turned himself to the door, and pointed at Cat without looking at her.

“I’ma go sleep in your room, since you won’t let me sleep in mine.” He recovered so quickly. Did he even realize how close he got to her?

“Yeeeah!” called his roommate. He let himself into the room and raised his hand for a high-5. Peter missed, but didn’t try again.

“No, not ‘yeah’!” Every moment she scolded him gave her a second to get her head on straight. Healing from her head injury took less time.

“See you tomorrow!”

“Goddammit, Cam!” cried Cat. Peter stopped at the door and pulled his key out, then immediately shut the door when he left.

Cam didn’t hesitate now that they were alone. He caught her in his arms, buried his face in her neck to start planting kisses. His lips were hot against her skin, sending tingles throughout her body. She knew he’d taste like tequila when he kissed her. And yet, for some reason, she was still surprised when the cold bite tickled her tongue again.

Her hands finally reacted to his embrace and rested on his shoulders; her mind still reeled and spun; her chest was going to explode, and the kisses and gentle strokes from his hand exploring her skin under her dress were building the charge. Soft and warm, barely touching her skin, then immediately groping it, squeezing it, pulling her into him.

She couldn’t help it. Her lips parted, her voice barely escaping through a moan as she arched against him, “Peter--”

“Isn’t here,” Cam muttered into her neck. Cat’s eyes flew open with her heart in her throat. “He’s having fun so we can have fun.” For a disorienting moment, fleeting and borderline horrifying, she’d almost forgotten who was in front of her, that Peter left less than thirty seconds ago. Holy shit. She would have started to freak out if Cam hadn’t begun to move his kisses southward, taking her only coherent thought with him.

Cameron couldn’t gather the dexterity to unbutton her dress any further, but she was able to slip out of it fast enough to keep up with the trajectory of his affection. She knew that in this state, she wouldn’t last long. She hardly gathered the ability to tangle her hand in his hair before she surrendered to the swirling rapture. Cam was no stranger to what she wanted, and proved he’d memorized her favorite motions even as intoxicated as he was.

Maybe if she had one less drink, she’d be able to recall how it all ended. Or maybe she wouldn’t have immediately fallen asleep and been able to put on some clothes. But morning broke with the sound of thudding against the door.

Cat lay on her stomach with her head under Cam’s pillow, suddenly aware of his body shifting beside her. His warmth disappeared, and Cat opened her eyes just a crack to see where he was going. He’d hopped over her to land on the floor and grab for his boxers, and managed to pull them on just in time for the door to open.

“Sorry--” whispered the intruder. “The door stuck again. Oh--!” Through her lashes and from under the shadow of the pillow, Cat could make out a blurry Peter stumble in. “Sorry.” Cam recovered from putting on his underwear and twisted around to his bed, and grabbed for the sheets that now rested at Cat’s hips to pull them further up to her shoulders. That was a nice gesture. As a warm feeling of appreciation rushed up her chest, Cat was able to take inventory of what was going on.

She was completely naked in Cam’s bed, though now fully covered, and somehow she didn’t have that bad of a hangover. At least yet. Slight headache, but no nausea.

“It’s all good, man,” Cam whispered as he twisted back to face his roommate. He mostly blocked Cat’s view, but she heard Peter gently open his closet to access his dresser. “Have a good night?”

Peter dug through his drawers and let out a quiet laugh.

“As good as yours, I assume.” But before Cameron could react, Peter switched gears. “Um--sorry, though. I should have talked to you first, but I wasn’t thinking.” As he asked this, Cam reached for more clothes to put on.

“Huh? Why?”

Peter hesitated at his closet, standing up straight as he grabbed something from his drawer. “Because you guys--you and Hannah--before the year started, you were kind of together. More than you were with Kelsey, I mean.”

Cam almost forgot to keep whispering. “No, no. I don’t do ‘together.’ It’s all good. Hannah’s been targeting you since the semester started.” Peter must have gestured for him to be quiet, because suddenly the two went silent and he spun around to look at her. Cat shut her eyes to continue feigning sleep.

Peter continued in an even quieter whisper, “For not being committed, you have a weird way of showing it.” What? What did that mean? Cameron hesitated, which only sent Cat’s blood pressure through the roof.

“I’m not actively searching for anything, just happy to be of assistance to whoever wants to use me.” Cat risked cracking her eyes open just a little bit. Cam had his undershirt on, now, and Peter held what seemed to be swim trunks in his hand.

“Alright.” Peter sounded unconvinced, and for whatever reason, it was definitely enough for Cat to go into full panic mode. That’s it. This was the last time with Cam. This was enough of a wake-up call for her to remember when she was next drunk and horny. Maybe Peter just didn’t understand Cam and Hannah, that they were unserious people with unserious feelings, and he was projecting something onto him. Or maybe Peter’s instincts about his roommate were right, and Cam was a little less fickle than he claimed. Either way, it was enough for Cat to silently, officially swear off of Cam. He might have been a great friend--a great distraction, but she knew him well enough to know that anything more would only end in disaster. She could not let that happen. This was definitely the last time.

Her panic only intensified when Peter started to unbutton his shirt and kick off his shoes. Should she pretend to wake up now? But Cam let out a chuckle.

“What?” Peter mumbled as he stripped out of his pants from last night. Cat opted to shut her eyes, just in case. Not like she hadn’t seen it all before, but still. The consent wasn’t there for this.

“We have similar taste.” A beat. “You know--Kelsey, Hannah....” Kelsey? Peter was into Kelsey? Poor guy didn’t stand a chance. Her initial instinct was almost to pity him. But Cam continued. “And what did I walk in on last night?” Oh god. Oh god. He saw that? He noticed? It was just a weird moment of lapsed judgment. Peter fumbled with something, dropping it on the floor.

“What?” Peter was the one to forget to whisper this time. Cam laughed. “You didn’t--there wasn’t--nothing--”

“Uh-huh.”

“She--she probably thought I was you,” Peter spat out, returning to whispering. Oh god. He did see, he did notice the way she responded to him, her shivers, her stares, the electricity. She must have looked so desperate to him, so drunk and receptive. Her stomach burned, ugly and ashamed.

“I’m not so sure.” Cam’s voice was far too smug for Catherine’s comfort. Her heart slammed against the chest as if she just ran a mile; if this continued for much longer, she would very likely melt into the mattress from humiliation. “And what about you? What’s your excuse?” Cat had to physically remind herself to breathe. She was so worried about her own reaction, she didn’t even think of Peter’s. Was he even coherent enough to know what was going on last night?

“I was drunk.” Peter’s tone took a more stern tone. “You’re projecting.” More shuffling, hurried and clumsy. The silence was thick like syrup as Cam huffed his reply. Maybe he was. Maybe what Cam saw was just what he wanted to see. Peter continued, “I’m going for a swim to try and get rid of this hangover. I’ll be back in an hour.”

She could hear Cam’s smile in his voice as he said, “Alright, see you later.”

Cat stumbled into her own dorm room not too long after that. She knew her hair was flat on only one side, and an awful cowlick on the back of her head nearly exposed her newest scar. Her makeup--good lord, she didn’t even want to look in the mirror.

When she opened her door, Hannah stood in front of the closet with her hair gathered in her hands, preparing a ponytail.

“Morning!” she chirped. She decorated herself with a pink dress and coordinating jewelry; the damn girl even looked refreshed.

“Mm,” Cat replied, letting the door shut from the weight of its hinges as she made her way back to bed.

“Have a good night?” That question made Cat’s stomach swirl. The hangover was getting worse. Or maybe it was just the straight discomfort she couldn’t shake.

“Fine,” she answered quietly as she shook away her memories.

“I had a great night.”

“Mm.” She hoped her short replies would give Hannah the not-so-subtle hint that she was far from in the mood to talk about it. Cat hopped onto her bed, still in her clothes and shoes, and landed face-first into her pillow. How could such a fun night turn into such an awful morning?

“Girl. Girl." Hannah finished securing her hair with a snap of the rubber band and approached Cat’s bed to prod her in the shoulder. “I’m a prophet.”

“What?” she muttered into her pillow.

“The last few guys I’ve been with, I’ve been able to look at them and go, ‘Yeah, he fucks like that.’ And I’ve been right every time!” Cat turned on her pillow to stare at her roomie.

“What?”

“So, like--an example you’ll get. I met Cam and was like, ‘He’s an Energizer Bunny.’ And he is, right?” Cat’s expression must have been a direct reflection of what she felt, because there was absolutely no way she could fake not being disturbed by this new information.

“Um?” Was she supposed to answer that?

“And Peter--I knew, oh my god. I knew he was raised Catholic.” Before Cat could interrupt her and express just how much she didn’t want to talk about this, her confusion got the best of her.

“What?” she echoed.

“You know! How Catholics have all these mixed feelings about sex and stuff. They’re shamed their whole lives for having any feelings, they go kind of HAM--”

"What?”

“Hard As a Motherfucker.”

“I know what HAM means, Hannah.” Cat’s tone completely flew over Hannah’s head.

“Oh, the Catholic thing. It’s like this guilty pleasure thing! Like they feel so bad, but can’t stop themselves--” She gestured with her hands, as if it would make this conversation any more bearable.

“Hannah, I’m Catholic.” Sort of. At least for every major holiday.

"I knew it!” Well that was an unintentional consequence.

Cat literally waved her hand to shoo her roomie away. “Don’t you have a group meeting or something?”

“Alright, fine. Sleep off your hangover. We’ll talk about this later.” Good lord, she hoped not. Cat replied by plopping her face back into her pillow.

Halloween was supposed to be a relaxing way to pretend to be something else for a day. Instead she was bombarded with far too much introspection and psychoanalysis that she literally couldn’t tell if her thoughts were making her more nauseous, or if her nausea made her drift to uncomfortable thoughts.