Chapter 1: The Wrong Embrace

When I was getting intimate with my boyfriend, his reaction was really strange.

I wore the lace lingerie he’d been hinting about for ages, but he didn’t even touch me.

The room was dark. I leaned in close to his ear, blew gently, and whispered, “I have a surprise for you. Do you like it?”

His breathing grew ragged. I could feel the heat of his skin, but his hands stayed glued to the sheets.

I was thrilled, thinking my plan was working.

So I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him even more passionately.

But just then, my boyfriend’s voice suddenly came from outside the door.

“The lights are all on—why isn’t anyone here?”

I froze. My heart slammed against my ribs—pure panic.

If Jason was outside… then who was I holding right now?

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In the darkness, I scrambled away from the person beside me, nearly tripping over the pile of throw pillows on the bed. The familiar clutter of Jason's room—the soccer pennant, the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling—suddenly felt like a crime scene.

Clutching my chest, I demanded, “Who are you?”

I kept my voice low, panic rising as I stared at the shadowy figure in front of me. The only light in the room came from the hallway under the door, slicing a thin gold line between us.

A deep, clear voice soon answered, “Eric.”

I was stunned. Eric—Jason’s roommate.

I’d seen him a few times when I came to visit Jason. He was always slipping out to the kitchen or to his room, as if allergic to company.

My impression was that he was aloof, quiet, and hard to approach. Every time we met, we just nodded—never even exchanged a word.

Thinking about what had just happened, my face burned with embarrassment. I stammered, “Why did you come to Jason’s room?”

“To borrow a charger.”

His answer was simple and direct.

But I was flustered. At that moment, I was wearing almost nothing—a strappy number I’d never have shown anyone else, hugging my skin and making me feel suddenly very exposed.

A man and a woman alone in a dark room…

If Jason walked in and saw this, even if I tried to explain, it would look so bad. In this small college town, rumors spread faster than a meme in the group chat.

Panicking, I grabbed my clothes and phone and ducked into the closet. The air was thick with Jason’s cologne and my own fear. My breath rattled in the dark, shallow and desperate. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure Eric could hear it.

“Don’t let Jason find me. Please,” I whispered urgently to Eric.

Eric was silent for two seconds, then came over and quietly closed the closet door for me, the soft click sealing me into a cocoon of dark denim and the scent of Jason’s Old Spice.

Right then, the door swung open.

Jason walked in.

He flipped on the lights, flooding the room with brightness. I could see slivers of it through the slats of the closet door, making me squeeze myself into the back corner among his winter coats.

“Huh? Eric, what are you doing in my room?”

Eric picked up the charger from the table. “Just borrowing a charger.”

“Oh.”

Jason responded casually, his tone normal. From the closet, I could hear the familiar shuffle of his sneakers on the floorboards.

“By the way, have you seen Rachel? She told me she was coming over.”

“Haven’t seen her.”

My back was slick with nervous sweat.

Today was our one-year anniversary. I’d picked out that ridiculous red lace outfit and practiced a thousand poses in front of my bathroom mirror. My cheeks burned even remembering it.

Before getting off work, I’d texted Jason, saying I had a surprise for him tonight.

He was working late and would be home after me, which gave me plenty of time to prepare. I’d set the mood—lit a vanilla-scented candle, queued up some music. The whole rom-com montage.

My plan was to present myself as a gift the moment he got home.

I never imagined things would turn into such a mess. My grand gesture had become a sitcom disaster.

“There’s something wrong with my computer. Can you come take a look?”

“Sure.”

After Eric followed Jason out, I hurriedly slipped out of the closet, changed clothes, and quietly left with my things. I tiptoed down the stairs, clutching my shoes and praying no one else would see me. I could feel my heart beating in my throat as I rushed outside into the cool night air, my cheeks still burning.

What if Eric told Jason? What if the whole story got out? I’d never live this down.