HIS FAVORITE GINGER ✓

TWENTY-FOUR.

"WITHOUT A CONDOM?" ALEJANDRO yells like it's the end if the world, and this time, he is aloud. He doesn't care if the wicked witch of the west [her office is actually in the west wing of the library] comes to haul their asses out to detention. His mind keeps screaming "STDs and Diabetes" like a wake-up clock.

"We were drunk out of our minds! You even wanted it so badly and there was no time to think." Damien's pink lips sticks out into a pout while he soothes the cheek in which the ginger's palm necked.

"So you just decided to do me?" Alejandro is trying his best not to tear his hair out of his scalp and stuff it down his not Damien's throat.

"You basically raped me." says Damien in a matter-of-fact tone.

Alejandro is certain that sounds like drunk Him but he skids so skillfully into another topic entirely. "Aren't you even straight for heavens' sake?!"

"Trust me. Spending all my life with someone as fuckboy-ishly bisexual as Grayson, I was forced to go bi-curious."

The only question Alejandro is asking himself is if he should feel accomplished that his first fuck in Seattle is with a straight guy. Is this the overrated feeling of sleeping with an hetero person? [Even if he doesn't remember much about the session, he knows pretty well it was no beans]. This is taking him back to the experimentation days. It was like "hey your dick looks nice, let's fuck" and bam! One with the rainbow.

"I still can't believe I fucked a straight dick. Wait, that didn't come out right. I mean metaphorically straight, not literally. I don't even remember how it looks like -" Alejandro rambles, completely oblivious of Damien's presence.

"Dude, are you smiling?" Damien is seeing things.

"No, of course not." Alejandro wipes his simper clean. "Why would I?"

Damien merely let out a deep sigh while pinching the bridge of his nose. His arms are crossed and his eyes reveal what look like panic.

Alejandro extends his hands to the brunet who looks like he's going to tear out his hair off his scalp any minute. "Take a chill pill, man." His arm only gets swatted, harsh, really harsh.

Alejandro is the one who is urgently in need of a chill pill to fathom how bipolar this bitch really is. Maybe dementia? He doesn't know. But what he knows is that this isn't much of a big deal. Which teenager doesn't experience drunk sex in parties? And Damien's a football player, for fuck sake! Alejandro should be the demented one. Life is fucked up.

"Ow, what the. What is wrong with you?" This is what Alejandro get from karma for slapping Damien unnecessarily. The pink print etched on his arm causes him to seriously avoid thinking about how the jock before him decorated his body last night with his brutality. Alejandro didn't spend twenty minutes drooling at his own nudity before the vanity this morning. He was way too sore and numb from the night's pounding.

"You mean what THE FUCK is wrong with YOU?! How can you take this with so much levity? What do you think Kara will think about this?"

Okay, Alejandro didn't forget he's Kara's boyfriend. Alejandro is not a self-centered, insensitive, over-pampered, egoistic ginger whose world revolves around him like an automated top.

"What do you think Grayson will think about this?! I've had -"

Alejandro has to just shut him down and call him out on his last statement. It's anything but negligible. "What does that mopstick have to do with this?"