The dirty beige hallways don’t feel quite the same the day after. Neither does the cafeteria, which constantly smells of stale pretzels and burnt coffee. Neither does my body. Nope. It feels lighter and much more capable. And if I were anyone else, I’d probably say some bullshit about being a different man, but unfortunately for the world, I’m still the same douchy jock. The only difference is I now have sex with my best friend (six times in less than twenty-four hours, but who is counting?), and I don’t want to read too much into this, but damn, it puts a stupid-ass smile on my face, which I
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