The rest of the day and evening are a blur of drinking, dancing, and having one hell of a good time. I’m not even outgoing and I somehow feel like the life of the party with these guys.

I wake up with an instant headache that starts in the front of my face and works all the way to the back.

Holy shit. What happened?

I drank way too much green … stuff.

Turning in bed, I spot an unfamiliar face. A very unfamiliar face, as in, I’ve never seen this guy before.

He has short black hair, a damn nice upper body peeking out from the blankets, and is probably the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe he’s lying next to me, sleeping as peacefully as any man could.

But he also looks really young. A twinge of terror shoots through me at how young he might be.

I basically hold my breath for fear of waking him.

Judging by my own nudity, I have to assume he’s in the buff from the waist down and that we ... did the nasty.

Oh shit. What did I do?

There’s someone else stirring nearby. Please tell me there isn’t someone else in the bed with us. How many people did I sleep with last night? If I actually ended up at some kind of whoredom event where we all wake up naked, I’m going to laugh my ass off — after taking the world’s longest, hottest shower. No one would ever believe me. I’m not the type of guy to do something like that. I could tell my mom and she’d laugh it off as a joke.

Oh God, I hope there weren’t drugs involved.

I glance around to realize we’re in some kind of shared room or suite. The would-be doors to the bedroom are wide open and there are cushions and blankets in the doorway with lumps of what I imagine are people hiding inside them.

That’s where the noise is coming from. There’s a grunt and then a hand reaches out from under the sheet, searching for something. It’s his phone and he locates it.

A moment later, he’s waking everyone with an unnecessarily loud voice for this early. It is early, right?

“Shit! Guys, we’ve got like ten minutes to check out before we’re charged a late check out fee.”

The delightful young man beside me kicks back at him. “Romeo, you’re worse than a fucking alarm clock. Put a cork in it.”

Damn, his voice is so much deeper than his image would indicate. Please tell me he won’t be as surprised to see me as I am to see him.

This Romeo guy isn’t letting the topic die. “Dammit, Jaye. The fee alone will be like four hundred bucks. If that’s tacked onto my credit card, I’m in deep shit.”

Ah ha! We have a name. My sexy lover, assumed lover at least, is named Jaye.

I see a light irritation that’s more of a pout than frustration cross Jaye’s face and I can’t help but want to erase it from his perfect features.

I solve the problem. “I’ll cover the fee. Breakfast too as long as it’s delivered.”

The other bodies that were stirring fall back into their various excuses for a bed. One guy is sprawled out across a dining table. That can’t be comfortable.

Romeo shoots me a look. “Are you talking about room service?”

“Sure. Just … shhh.” I indicate with my hands to bring the volume down in accordance with the size of my head right now.

Romeo shrugs, and drops his voice to whisper. “Alright. If you say so.” He’s young too.

The dining table fella turns his head our way. “I want the all-star. Eggs, bacon, toast, waffle.”

I think he’s still drunk, and equally young.

Shit! Have I stumbled into some sort of gay frat party?

Jaye looks up at me sweetly and gives my arm a squeeze.

“Thank you, Thaddy.”

Thaddy? As in Daddy? Really?

Somewhere across the room on the couch, another guy adds. “Jaye’s got himself a sugar Thaddy!”

There’s a round of laughs around the area that indicates there are a lot more guys here than I originally thought … and they all seem to know me.

I take a moment to be thankful that Jaye remembers me. I can’t imagine how badly this would have gone if he woke next too some older man that wasn’t familiar. I’d seem like a predator. Who am I kidding? I am a predator. Look at the age of these guys.

How is it I don’t remember any of them or how I got here? Where is here?

Jaye crawls the short distance between us and tugs me back down into a laying position. I happily oblige, letting him lay his head on my chest and wrap himself around me. He smells delightful, like a combination of mocha and caramel.

Holy shit! Is this really happening right now?

This amazingly hot, naked guy is twirling his fingers around in my somewhat pathetic patch of chest hair, kissing on me and it once again reawakens my fear that he might not be old enough for me to be doing this with him.

“Uhm, don’t take this the wrong way, but … please tell me you’re not underage.”

“Haha!” His voice is sexy as hell and stirs my insides. “I’m legal. Look in my wallet if you need reassurance.”

What does legal even entail? Isn’t that like sixteen in our state? He better be a hell of a lot older than that, by like eight years at least.

I glance to the side table and for the life of me I can’t let this go until I actually check. I feel like I need to see it for myself.

I open his wallet and see a picture as handsome as the guy himself peeking up at me.

Derrick Jaye Harrelson.

Twenty-one years of age as of a few months ago.

“You’re twenty-one?” He doesn’t look it.

“Oh no. That’s the fake ID. The real one is underneath it.”

What the fuck?

I slide the first one out and sure enough there’s another underneath. Even with a headache I can do the simple math.

Oh fuck, he’s nineteen. I’m in my thirties and I just slept with a nineteen-year-old teenager.

My heart sinks and I instantly hate myself. I’m a total piece of shit. I’m going to hell for this.

It’s like being gut punched by a railing. I knew he was too damn cute to be something I could actually keep.

I’m surrounded by under-aged kids that were all drinking last night because of fake IDs. I’m practically a monster right now.

My despair escapes me whether I want it to or not. “Fuck.”

Jaye lifts his head. “Hey, don’t start that shit. I told you I was of age. What’s anything else matter?”

He’s so fucking adorable, probably because he’s an innocent kid.

How do I even begin to explain what a mistake this was?

“Uhm, I just remembered I have a thing I’m supposed to be at today. I should go.”

He rises and straddles me, both of us as nude as we entered the world — which he did only nineteen years ago. Everything about this is wrong! One night of saying ‘fuck it’ and I’ve become a parent’s worst nightmare. This kid’s parents probably aren’t much older than me.

He grabs my face in his hands. “Don’t do that. Please don’t go. If you leave now, I’ll never see you again. I can see it in your eyes.”

I’m squirming because he has such a mature body and I’m doing everything I can not to touch it or stare at it or wish it were mine in some kind of way.

“You’re too young for me, Jaye. Whatever I did or didn’t say last night, I’m sorry. I ... ugh …”

He’s grinning ear to ear. “I came on to you. I guess you don’t remember it do you?”

 I hate that I have to shake my head at him. At least part of me hates it. As much as I wish I could remember, it’s probably best that I don’t.

“It’s alright, Thaddy. You were pretty fucked up so I kinda expected it. It was me that came on to you. You gave me your age outright and I didn’t care. I like older men. I always have. I know what I’m getting myself into here.”

Getting yourself into? What do you think this is?

When he tries to kiss me, I pull back. “Oh boy. This is definitely not going to work.”

I lightly push him back so I can get up, but he tightens his hips around me. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

Damn his voice is deep, much deeper than mine. “How about you stay until after breakfast? We can talk and if you want to leave afterwards and never speak to me again then I won’t stop you.”

I have no recollection of what I might have said or done last night. Would it at least be decent for me to talk to him and explain that it was a mistake before leaving him in my past?

“Alright. I’ll stay until after breakfast.”

“Good.” He starts rocking and grinding in my lap. 

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