They jumped up onto Tristan’s bed and straddled the hungover youth, their legs resting on either side of his upper thighs, moving back and forth try...ng to wake him up while shaking him in the process.“Hey! Wake up!” they shouted at him. Tristan tried to swat at some imaginary assailant with his free right arm, but finding nothing, felt it hit the mattress.“Five more minutes, please,” he said, groggily.“Five more minutes my ass,” the trackpants said. “Socks, get up here and help me out!”The. For a moment, though, I pretended it was me. I imagined standing on the other side of his room, watching with a smile as he swept that glossy black hair out of his eyes, and smirked at nothing in particular. Imagined seeing his face, staring into his eyes, and tracing my fingertips over every bit of exposed skin. By the end of the night, maybe I’d even be the one helping him out of that underwear… That’s it, I thought as I caught myself drooling. No more Wal-Mart brand romance novels for me. A. More

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