Page 1 of A Stealthy Situation

PROLOGUE

BEN

My head is spinning worse than one of those amusement park rides.

I stagger into my bedroom, literally bouncing off the doorframe, fingertips clipping the side of the door to slam it closed behind me.

The sounds of the frat party raging on dulls a fraction, which eases up some of the pounding in my head.

My chuckle turns into more of a giggle as I kick off my shoes and nearly hit the deck headfirst before catching myself. I’ve missed this. My frat brothers, the parties, the hot men who want to experiment in college.

It’s all good.

Going home for break is amazing because I love my family and miss them while I’m gone, but when the new term is looming, I’m desperate to get away again. There really can be too much of a good thing.

It takes multiple attempts to struggle out of my shirt, and I give up getting undressed before I reach my jeans. It’s not only my head but the room that’s spinning now, and one moment, my bed looks like it’s partway up the wall, and the next, I’m upside down.

What the hell was in that beer bong?

An annoying tapping starts against my eardrum that I try to shake away, but my foot slips on one of my shoes, and I go down hard.

“Oww.”

The yelp is more reflex, though, because nothing actually hurts. In fact, the floor is feeling extra comfy tonight. I flop onto my side on the hardwood, ignoring how much cum, piss, spit, and vomit has probably covered it over the years.

My eyes are growing heavy. That blissful, tipsy-turvy darkness that drags you under after too much alcohol tugs at me, and I relax, hoping for it to kick in faster.

But that stupid tapping won’t leave me alone.

“Urg, stop it, brain.” I slap my cheek a few times, trying to get it to quit.

It doesn’t work.

Stupid, fucking?—

“Benny.”

I pause. Am I talking to myself? Did I just imagine my name?

More tapping. “Benny, open the fucking window.”

Window?

I flop onto my back like a dead fish and tilt my head to look. The curtains are still parted, and there, on the other side of the glass, is me.

Upside-down me.

Only that me is wearing a hoodie pulled up over his wild hair and doesn’t laugh when I laugh.

“You’re supposed to be inside,” I grumble at my reflection that’s not reflectioning right.

My reflection gestures to the window. “Hurry up.”

A barely human noise leaves me as I crawl in his direction. I pull myself up onto my knees at the window frame, unlock it, then push the window up and out of the way.

“Well, hellooo.” I drag it out like a cartoon villain, realizing it’s not my disobedient reflection at all.

“On a scale of one to five Jägerbombs, how tanked are you?”

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