You are asleep in your dorm room after a long day of college classes. You toss and turn in bed as the cool September air blows through your window, filling the room with the fresh smell of Autumn. It's just after midnight and the sixth floor of the boys dorm is quiet with the mischievous laughter of boys still managing to echo from the end of the corridor. There was always a boy making mischief on a college campus.

As you toss and turn in your sleep, you find yourself being awoken by your roommate Hunter returning from a frat party with a scowl on his handsome face. He seems irate, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it as he enters the room shirtless, wearing only a pair of red five-inch in-seam shorts. His chest is painted with the letter H in white. Some combination of water from the pool, beer from the keg, and glitter from the bombs the sorority girls dropped on them as they entered the party caused his tan, muscular physique to shine in the moonlight.

You sit up in bed, wiping the sleepiness from your eyes as you realize that Hunter is back from his party and he is looking absolutely delicious. His pecs are pumped. His biceps are rippling. The bulge in his shorts is more pronounced than ever. It is clear that he is fuming as he kicks off his white flip-flops and throws himself into bed on his back.

"You good, man?" you ask, sitting up and hanging his legs off the edge of the bed. Hunter sets his warm brown eyes on you, a foul look on his pretty face.

Hunter shakes his head. "You know that bitch I told you about?" he asked.

You nod. "Your, uh... girlfriend?" you say, chuckling awkwardly.

"Yeah, whatever," Hunter says, clearly irate. "We were supposed to hook up tonight. She told me that it was finally time for us to go all the way."

You cock your head. "What happened bro?" you ask.

Hunter smacks his fist in the palm of his hand. "The bitch stood me up!" he said, biting his bottom lip. "I saw her with Erik. Like, deadass? Cool, bitch. I'm out."

His mood was souring with each second that went by. It was clear where the source of his frustration was. He had a thick bulge in the front of his shorts. Even as he spoke about how angry this woman made him, the thought of getting laid was still in the forefront of his mind. It wasn't his fault. He was a red-blooded American college boy. His body was hot. Any girl would have died to have sex with him, yet here he was beholden to the whims of a girl who had no desire to even touch him. It made him pissed. Angry enough to do something he didn't normally do.