What could he possibly be doing here? I know I thought he was young, but damn, I didn’t think he was that young. I couldn’t deny those blue eyes or that jet black hair. I have to show around the guy who I gave a blow job to and had sex with anonymously. Bright side of it all, I don’t have to take that quiz.

“I’m Ethan,” he says to me. I wonder if he recognizes me with clothes on.

“Hi, I’m Stacie,” I say back politely. Any sarcastic remark could lead him to remember me, “Why’d you transfer?”

“Parents wanted me to get into God more, you know parents. They think I’m really promiscuous,” he says.

“And you’re not?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“I don’t go sleeping around like crazy, but I’ve done it,” he admits. I feel as if he’s sharing this with me like we’ve met before and I don’t want that feeling. Him ever finding out that his Friday night girl was me could be crucial to my reputation.

“Then welcome to St. Mark,” I joke.

“So you’ve done it?”

“Virgin,” I lie. He doesn’t seem to be buying it.