Page 63 of Wicked Pickle

His reply is near-instant.

Diesel: I want to fuck you in the classroom.

Oh, Jesus. Now I’m feeling weak in the knees. I can’t help myself when I answer.

Me: I think I’d like that.

Diesel: Let’s make it happen.

My mind races. Is he serious? Is this my life? Where could we do this?

Silly Symphony. You already know.

Me: Lots of unused rooms during the summer. Might be locked, tho.

Diesel: Good thing locks don’t stop me.

Me: Are you serious?

Diesel: I’ve never fucked anyone in a college classroom.

Something new for Diesel. That’s heady stuff.

Could I get expelled? Maybe.

Clear head! Clear head!

But instead of having one, I give him the address of my poli-sci building and the time I get out of class.

Oh, what have I done?

I spend the morning speed readingThe Origins of Totalitarianism. I’m supposed to pick up Jenna on the way to campus. But I tell her I’m seeing Diesel after, so she drives herself.

When she drops into the chair next to me in the classroom, she doesn’t mince words. “Marietta says you did the deed with Diesel last night at his house.”

That was fast.

“Did she tell you what she did?”

“Flashed the bar? Yeah. Was she drunk?”

“Not at that point. She took a shot, but it hadn’t had time to kick in.”

Jenna taps her notebook with a pen. She’s old school in class. Says she’s too afraid of a technical malfunction to rely on her laptop. “I have a theory,” she says.

I eye the professor walking up to the podium. Our talking time is almost over.

“What’s that?”

“The Leaky Skull is a portal to another world, and it makes people do the craziest stuff.”

“I wasn’t at the bar when I got naked with Diesel at the reception.”

“Youwhat?” Jenna says it so loud that the whole classroom quiets.

The professor taps his podium with his laser pointer. “All right, everyone. Let’s go over the syllabus.”

I slide my iPad out of its case, feeling Jenna’s gaze on me. I never told any of them what happened at the wedding.

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