Jan. Week 3: A Long Weekend-Movies... Leah doesn't clean up the facial hardly at all (Suspicion: +5 Lust: -60).

Leah’s hands shook as she fumbled with the toilet paper dispenser, praying for one last scrap to salvage her dignity. The handicap bathroom was a single, oversized stall, but its amenities were tragically sparse. The bright LED bulbs overhead made each sticky strand and every pearl of cum on her skin glow like radioactive evidence. Her fingers clawed for a corner of the roll but found only cardboard, sticky with the faint dampness of anticipation and defeat. There was nothing left but a single, pathetic ribbon fluttering out like a white flag.

She yanked it free and tried to pat away the worst of the mess, but the paper dissolved instantly, leaving a translucent, spit-wadded patch stuck to her cheek. She stared at it, numbly.

Leah bit down on her lower lip so hard she thought she tasted blood. She wanted to scream, or maybe just vomit, but she **** herself to breathe slowly, in through the nose, out through the mouth, like the YouTube meditation videos promised would help in times of crisis. It didn’t help. Nothing helped.

She tried to mop herself with the brown paper towels by the sink, but the dispenser was empty, probably for weeks. She spotted the wet wipes in the “Baby Changing Station” bin, remembering with a sick pang that the bathrooms were generally stocked for young mothers—just apparently not blackmailed teachers. It was empty too.

The mirror above the sink was unkind. It showed everything: the clumped lashes, the red-rimmed eyes, the strands of brunette hair clinging to her face. There was a splotch on her neck, like an obscene hickey, and a glistening trail still clinging to her upper lip. She ran her hands under the automatic faucet—of course, the water pressure was a joke—and cupped the weakest trickle to splash her face. The cold did nothing to numb the humiliation.

There was no way she could go see Daniel like this. She wiped the worst of the goo from her sleeve, it would be ruined and any chance of explaining it to Daniel would be impossible. She did as best she could. She exited the bathroom slowly, checking to see if the coast was clear. There were a few people whose eyes lingered on her as she strode toward the closest exit. She knew if they recognized her people would talk. Leah hurriedly exited the theater. She sent Daniel a text message with a very obvious lie that she threw up in the bathroom. His responses were sweet, and expected, but she knew she had burnt a bridge with him.

She headed home as quickly as possible.