Patrick’s sitting at the computer bank in the student center right across from the convenience store. His head is pounding from his hangover. Tour De Franzia got a bit out of control last night and box wine hangovers are the worst hangovers, but he doesn’t regret a single second of it.
He remembers flashes of the night. Being shoved up against the wall by some incredibly hot unaffiliated dude, the guys fingers running over his sides while Patrick groped his ridiculously huge ass. The guy was aggressively shoving his tongue into Patrick’s mouth and it was the hottest fucking thing that ever happened to him.
Then nothing. He doesn’t remember a goddamn thing after that. When he woke up this morning the spot next to him in bed was still warm but no sign of mysterious hot guy except for a note that said Thanks for the good time - JT.
Pat asked everyone who was awake at 10am on a Sunday in a frat house if they knew his mystery guy, but the only luck he had was Sharpy saying “I think his name is Tayves.”
So now Patrick is sitting at the computer looking at the schools on campus directory. He hits Command+F and looks for Tayves with no luck. He tries twitter, google, instagram, Facebook… everything he can think of, trying all the different spellings he can think of… and there’s nothing.
“It’s T-O-E-W-S,” Patrick hears from behind him and freezes, “if… uh… if you’re trying to look me up. It’s Toews, T-O-E-W-S.”
Patrick is mortified. He doesn’t even want to turn and look at the guy standing behind him. The voice is bringing back more memories from the night before. Yea Patrick. Right there. Your fucking mouth.
Pat turns slowly and tries to smile but he knows his face is bright red; he manages to croak out a “Hi,” before Toews can start talking again.
“And the first name is Jonathan,” he says, hand reaching up to nervously (and hotly) grab at the back of his neck, “but you can call me Jonny. And if you look in your phone, you can find my name and number under the proper spelling.”