Here’s a snippet from Captured Love (Ryan’s POV):
I stopped shoving my pants back on when the girl in the bed moved. I even stopped breathing, lest she woke up and saw me there.
What would I say to her? “Hi, hmm, yeah, I don’t remember your name, or how I came to end up in your dorm room.” No, that wouldn’t be nice. Not that I ever tried being nice. Actually, girls loved when I was bad. Nice did no good to my reputation.
The girl went back to snoring, wrapped only in her flimsy pink sheet.
I put my polo shirt on and leaned closer. The girl was pretty, but the fact that my head throbbed and I didn’t remember anything of the night told me she was so boring, I had to drink my way to her bed. Not good.
I looked around. The dorm was simple but with too many pink stuff. Pink pillows, pink notebooks, pink lamp, pink rug, pink slippers. Over her desk, beside her pink wallet, I found a bill from one of the bars at Gervais Street, three blocks from the girl’s dorm. Those bars were packed with college students during weekends, packed with girls, most of them very easy, which made my life easier. Some days I loved the chase, the hunt, the expectation. Of course, after sleeping once with the girl, I barely ever spoke to her again. But there were days when I just wanted to get in and get out, as simple as that.