Marcus stood in the hallway wearing a tank top and pajama pants, his hair tousled from sleep. His expression carried genuine concern mixed with unmistakable curiosity.
"Hey man, I wanted to check up on you. Hope you're good?" he asked, though his eyes and attention were fixed inside James's room as he tried to sneak a peek past his friend's shoulder. "You were pretty loud, now I understand why no one wants to share a room with you. It's the first day and you're already being noisy."
James positioned himself strategically in the doorway, blocking Marcus's view as best he could while maintaining a light smile on his face. The effort of appearing casual while his heart hammered against his ribs was monumental.
"Yeah, I'm good," he responded, keeping his voice steady.
Marcus glanced at him briefly, then his gaze drifted back toward the room again, clearly not satisfied with the simple answer. "You sure? Because you looked kinda pissed at the girls earlier."
James made an 'OH' sound, then shook his head with what he hoped appeared to be genuine understanding. "It's not something to be mad at. It's a game."
Marcus finally stopped his visual investigation and actually looked directly at James since he'd opened the door. His expression shifted to one of relief. "That's good man, glad to hear that. Hmm, okay, well I'll be on my way."
"Yeah, good night." James waved, praying this would be the end of it.
Marcus took one step, then two, then abruptly spun around. His eyes widened in shock to see James still standing at the door, as if James had somehow anticipated this exact move. The realization made Marcus flush red with embarrassment at being so predictable.
Unable to hide his curiosity any longer, Marcus asked the question that had been nagging at him. "James, is there anyone in your room?"
James had been expecting this exact inquiry. He shook his head with practiced nonchalance. "No."
But Marcus being Marcus didn't know when to stop digging. "Come on, man. I clearly heard a moan. I know a moan when I hear one. So who is she?" His eyes sparkled with interest, the prospect of uncovering gossip about his typically reserved friend proving irresistible.
James sighed internally at the impossible situation Victoria had put him in. He needed to think fast.
"You heard wrong. There is no 'she.' In fact, maybe it's your ringtone, did you bring your phone with you?" James cleverly redirected, gambling on a memory that could either save him or destroy him completely.
The effect was immediate and devastating. Marcus's face turned crimson, his eyes widening in mortification as the realization hit him like a freight train.
"Oh shoot. Good night, man!" Marcus bid farewell for real this time, practically sprinting toward his room in his haste to escape the embarrassing revelation.
James called after his retreating figure, unable to resist twisting the knife. "Change your ringtone, Marcus. Don't forget!"
The memory was crystal clear in James's mind. He had once caught Marcus's phone ringing in the office, and the sound that had emerged from the device was unmistakably that of a woman moaning in what could only be described as adult entertainment audio. James had reprimanded him immediately, and Marcus had begged him to keep it a secret, promising faithfully to change the offensive ringtone.
James had gambled everything on the fact that Marcus, being Marcus, had probably never followed through on that promise. The gamble had paid off spectacularly.
He sighed in relief and closed his door, the immediate crisis averted through sheer luck and Marcus's own embarrassing oversight. Now he had to figure out how to deal with the lustful woman currently bound and gagged in his bathtub.
James entered the bathroom, and immediately he saw Victoria perk up like a baby bird. Her eyes widened above the duct tape, and despite her constrained position, she managed to look utterly adorable. Her glassy eyes still contained unresolved desires for him, burning with an intensity that hadn't dimmed despite their interrupted encounter. This realization sent warmth spreading through his chest, making him genuinely happy in a way he hadn't expected.
He was elated that only he got to see such sides of Victoria, these passionate and vulnerable moments that she shared with no one else. Then a pang of jealousy struck him as he thought of her acting the same way with her exes, being this intimate and uninhibited with other men. The thought pricked at his heart like a sharp needle.
He sat down on the cool tile floor next to the bathtub, placed his hand on the porcelain edge, and rested his face against the back of his hand. His gaze was tender and endearing as he looked down at Victoria, who now stared at him with what appeared to be indignation at her current predicament.
James chuckled softly at her expression and reached out to flick her nose gently with his free hand. The gesture was playful and affectionate, completely at odds with the serious conversation he was about to initiate.
"I have something important to tell you," he said, his voice dropping to a more solemn tone.
Victoria, noting the shift in his demeanor and the gravity in his voice, immediately calmed. Her angry expression softened into one of attentive concern as she focused entirely on his words.
James took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to reveal. "Do you remember when I told you, in college that I was the designated driver for my group of friends? That conversation we had in the elevator?"
Victoria nodded, her eyes never leaving his face.
"There was an incident," James continued, his voice growing quieter. "One night at the club, I was minding my business as usual, seated all alone in the booth my friends had acquired. I was content to watch everyone else have fun while I stayed sober and responsible."
He paused, running his hand through his hair as the memories surfaced. "A senior from school that year walked up to me and engaged me in what I thought was friendly conversation. She seemed nice enough, asking about my major, making small talk. I had no idea she harbored ulterior motives."
Victoria's expression became unreadable and calm as she listened to his account, her face a mask of composure.
"She spiked my glass of water. I don't know how, did not suspect a thing," James said, his voice barely above a whisper. "The next thing I remembered was waking up in a hotel room that was unfamiliar, feeling weak and disoriented. I could not move properly, couldn't resist as she began undressing me. Everything felt like it was happening through a fog."