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The sweaty guy, was still catching his breath. He leaned against the wall, his legs a little shaky, like he’d just stepped off an elliptical.

“Mannn,” he said, unprompted, shaking his head with a crooked grin. “She didn’t say no to anything. Like, anything.” He looked at Noah like he was supposed to laugh along with him. “Let me finish in her ass, man. Doggy. Right there on the floor. Took it like a champ, too.”

Noah didn’t laugh.

His mouth felt dry. He clenched his jaw so tight it made his temples ache. He blinked once, then again, but nothing cleared the fog pressing behind his eyes. He couldn’t look at the guy, but mostly because he couldn’t look away from the door.

His ears rang.

Jillian. His Jillian. Sweet and a little weird, who liked cheesy horror movies and oversized black sweaters. The same girl who curled against him on the couch and whispered how she liked the way he looked at her.

Noah shook his head hard, he didn’t even know Jillian liked anal.

“Why’d she do it?” Noah muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

“Dunno,” the guy said, stiffening up, as he hitched his pants to his waist. “She was into it though, and the only 10 outta 10 I've ever fucked.”

And then he was gone. Disappearing down the hall and quickly down the stairwell.

Noah stared at the floor. The carpet was cheap, faded gray, looking more tamped down and worn than it had when he first came up the stairs.

The door creaked open again.

Noah’s head snapped up.

Another guy stepped out. Tall, lean, brushing damp hair back from his forehead. Zipping up the front of his jeans with the same casual motion as someone backing away from the urinal.

Noah moved before he could stop himself.

“Hey. You were just in there, right?”

The guy looked at him, confused for a second, then nodded. “Yeah?”

“The girl…” Noah hesitated. His voice cracked. “Was she okay? I mean—did she say anything? Did she… How did she seem... she seem okay?”

The guy blinked. “She was fine, man. Chill. Didn’t talk much. Just, you know…” He made a vague gesture, a downward bob with his hand. “Insane throat game though.”

Noah felt like he was outside of his body. Watching himself ask these questions. Watching this guy shrug and give him nothing in return.

“She didn’t seem drunk?” Noah asked. “Like… too drunk?”

“Nah,” the guy said. “Eyes clear. Steady hands. She even, uh…” He gave a short laugh. “She even said she liked my cologne.”

Noah took a step back.

The door was closing again, a sliver of Jillian’s silhouette lost behind wood and shadow.

His phone was still dead silent in his hand.

He wanted to scream. Or puke. Or wake up.

Instead, he stared at the floor, the sound of the line across from him came buzzing back to life. Voices. Jokes. Someone passed a bottle. Another guy was asking, “About how long is everybody taking?”

He didn’t get it.

Why?

Was she angry at him? Punishing him for leaving for so long?

_Or was this just her? _He wondered.

Had he been stupid enough to think he was special? She was sweet, he had been busy with classes, but she didn’t seem like she was seeing anyone else, or multiple people for that matter… she even told him as much.

He sat down hard against the wall, chest heaving.

He pressed his fingers against his eyes, and tried to steady his breathing. Something had to be wrong with her, he reasoned.