Naturally, the only logical solution was to sneak away with a date.

The plan was simple: an empty classroom, upstairs, away from the crowds. Not for a romantic chat, obviously. This was the kind of meetup that involved a lot less clothing and a lot more heavy breathing.

The room was pitch black. Just a few slivers of moonlight cutting through the heavy curtains.

Against the wall, a silhouette waited. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Exactly where the date said they'd be.

He knew exactly who it was. And he knew, based on the way they were moving, that they thought he was someone else.

He could have spoken up. He could have told them they were kissing the wrong guy.

But then the silhouette pressed against him, warm and desperate.