Booty Call

I know what I'm doing when I text Scott at four in the morning. He knows what I'm doing, too. That's why he shows up twenty-three minutes later, freshly showered with a condom in his pocket and a barely dissolved breath mint on his tongue. I smirk as he looms over me. "You are such a dirty old man." "We need to stop doing this." "Why?" "Because you're twenty-one and I'm not. Because I want to take you on a f***ing date and you won't. Because we wind up yelling at each other half the time." ...