She's taking it well, all things considered

The downstairs bathroom was the most remote, private point in the building. There was nothing else on that basement level but the boiler room, the janitor's office, and a small workshop that hadn't been used since the auto body teacher left rather suddenly around the same time as Mr. Bark, making that bathroom so far out of everyone's way that it was used almost exclusively for sneaky hook ups and emotional break downs. Plenty of reputations had been made and ruined with the simple suggestion that someone had been seen heading down those stairs.

John, of course, didn't spare a thought for his reputation as he barreled down them; in that moment, the only person in the world whose opinion he cared about was Gracie. He skidded to a stop at the bathroom door, pressing an ear to it gently and holding his breath. He could hear running water and the clatter of a paper towel roll, but no crying, sobbing, or vomiting. That was as good as sign as he could hope for, under the circumstances.

Hesitantly, John knocked;

"Gracie? I-it's John. Are you okay? I'm sorry about the... y'know... I had no idea she was going to do that, I swear. I never would have asked for that, or agreed to it, or--"

Suddenly, the door opened and a hand grabbed the neck of John's shirt, pulling him into the girl's bathroom.

It was clean. Weirdly clean. Not that weird, he supposed, since no one ever used it, but a lifetime of public men's rooms had conditioned him to expect a certain unwelcome stench whenever he saw that old off-white linoleum. This bathroom didn't smell good exactly, but it definitely didn't smell bad. If anything, it didn't smell at all.

Gracie Lin's freshly cleaned face was just as hard to read; her expression was decidedly serious, but not quite angry. She seemed determined, like she had finally made up her mind and screwed up her courage to take care of a problem she'd put up with for far too long.

"Who was it for?" she demanded.

"W-what?" John stammered, scared but just a little aroused, "I-it was an accident."

"Not the facial, the load," Gracie explained. "I've seen porn; that was a lot of cum. It was thick, hot, and surprisingly tasty. I want to know why. Were you just that backed up, was the Homeroom Honey just that good, or... Or was it from talking to me?"

John's first instinct was to blame Mrs. Hazlem again, but the more he thought about it the more he realized it wasn't true. Yes, she had physically brought him to orgasm, but it was the thrill of having Gracie right there that had made it so strong -- and there was no way he'd have cum that much if not for the thrill of seeing it land on his crush's face.

But could he admit that without sounding like a pervert? Sure, the Fuck Pass let him demand sex from teachers, but it was immensely clear by Gracie's reaction that that did not extend to other students. And yet, she had just casually complimented the flavor of his jizz, so what was or wasn't kosher anymore was anybody's guess. Screw it.

"It was you," John confessed. "I've been into you since, like, fifth grade? I tried to ask you out a few times, but you're just so far out of my league I knew you'd never go for it."

Gracie was quiet for an uncomfortably long time, but finally smiled.

"I'm out of your league?" she laughed, "John, you are such an idiot. I've been into you since fourth grade... so I'm officially claiming dibs. I've got seniority, so I get to ask you out, okay?"

"O-okay?" John agreed, only just registering Gracie's words as his head spun.

"So, we've got that big Biology exam coming up; how about I come over to your place and we can, uh, study? I'm sure between the two of us we can figure out this 'sexual reproduction' thing. How's five o'clock?"

"Y-yeah, sure. Five o'clock..."

"See you then, big guy," Gracie winked and brushed her chest deliberately against John's as she went to leave.

"Wait," he stopped her, "is this a date?"

"We'll see how it goes," she shrugged, then her eyes dropped from his face to his crotch. "Don't bother getting dressed up or anything; you won't be wearing it long."

With that, she was gone and John was alone in the infamous downstairs girls' bathroom, with fifteen minutes left until next period and a very confused half chub.