(When I speak about my college in this story, I'm talking about my college of Oxford University. Essentially, it's a collection of student residence buildings but also a social centre for members of that college, so the main building contains a dining hall, function hall, student rooms, bar, etc. This becomes relevant later.)
It was the biggest ball of term – black tie, of course. I took my time getting ready. Mind you, he wouldn't be there; this was just for me. A tiny cocktail dress followed by a slightly longer blazer. Hair up elegantly. Done.
I left my room and walked carefully downstairs in my heels, already hearing the jazz coming from the hall. Befriending the person handing out champagne ending up being a good decision and, half a bottle in, I was ready to dance. Before that, though, my friends pulled me in for a group photo and posted it on Facebook.
I danced for an hour, then went to the bar for a drink. While I was waiting I checked my phone. There was a text from him: “You look delicious.” I was turned on right away, but ignored my body long enough to get a G & T. Sipping it, I watched the posh boys dance under old chandeliers and decided against replying to him over text.