Determination

Noah adjusted the collar of his button-up, suddenly hyper-aware of the sweat prickling under his arms. The music downstairs was something bass-heavy and fast. He felt it thump faintly through the floor, like his heartbeat had been outsourced to the will of the cabin’s nameless DJ.

The guy in front of him said his name was Dante. He was practically vibrating with excitement. He didn’t seem drunk or high. Just genuinely hyped. His enthusiasm clashed against the queasy storm churning in Noah’s gut.

“You ever done anything like this before?” Dante asked, glancing back with a grin, it was hard for Noah not to grimace. They were both standing in line to enter that dimly lit bedroom, and fuck someone Noah had once considered his girlfriend.

Noah shrugged. “Nah. You?”

“Not like this,” Dante said, with a wide smile. “Closest was a house party last year. There was this chick from community college. I was probably the third guy she was gonna hook up with that night. No line though. It just sort of happened organically. I chickened out… it was a bad scene. Everyone was too drunk and whatever, this time it’s different though, this chick seems like she’s in it for the love of the game.

Noah let out something that was almost a laugh. The bitterness on his tongue didn’t stop the corners of his mouth from lifting. “Well, you seem excited about it.”

Dante let out a short laugh. “It’s probably the last chance I’ll get to something wild like this. You only live once.”

Noah tried to picture Jillian, kneeling in front of these strangers, her head bobbing. It felt like chewing glass. Then he thought of her smile, her confidence, the way she’d swing her hips when she knew he was watching her. And he thought, maybe that was just her, maybe that wasn’t for him. She just did that for everyone. She did it for the love of the game.

The door opened.

Everyone looked.

The guy who stepped out was pulling his shirt over his head, still shirtless and radiant with sweat. He had that sleepy post-coital look on his face. His belt was still undone. His jeans clung to his thighs, hanging loose around the hips. He didn’t seem to care.

And then there was… that.

Noah couldn’t help but glance down at it, his cock was hanging out over the waistband of his boxers.

It looked heavy, swaying between his legs like a club made of meat. It was easily seven inches, glistening, and half-flaccid.

Dante muttered “God damn,” under his breath, as the guy walked past tucking the monster cock back into his boxers and adjusting his jeans.

Noah just blinked. A part of his brain scrambled to do some quick math. He wondered what Jillian had done with him. He wondered if she liked it. If she had an orgasm, or maybe several.

Then the guy disappeared step by step as he made his way down the stairs. The door was still cracked, beckoning for more tributes.

The guy at the front of the line collected himself and then slipped inside. For a heartbeat, Noah caught a flash of skin. Calves wrapped in black fabric, pale thighs, a torso bent forward over a mattress. Then the door clicked shut again.

Dante cheered softly and rubbed his hands together. “YO, let’s gooo.”

Noah checked his phone again.

No new messages. Just the old ones sitting there, unread.

He took a deep breath.

Something in him still twisted with the thought of her with them. Of what they could have been if this night hadn’t gone sideways. But that version of the story had already burned to the ground, something like this would’ve happened eventually. It wasn’t a moral decision anymore. He was just getting his dick wet, like every over guy that stood in line. The heartbreak was there, just beneath his drunken, spiteful determination. That was what was pulling him forward. Horny. Determined. Spite.

He’d mourn later.

For now, he’d just stand in line.