Confess to Me Sinner

Hanson Baxter was a senior during my college years.

Before I met him, Hanson Baxter seemed like someone out of a legend, speaking in a way that seemed almost otherworldly.

Later, I discovered he was far from mythical – it was me, agreeing to be his girlfriend, who must have been the real "mystery".

01

"Hey, is the men's room busy right now?"

Outside the restroom at the karaoke bar, I grabbed the first person I could and asked frantically.

When he shook his head, I, struggling to hold in an imminent disaster, blurted out, "Could you keep watch for me? I really can't wait. Just two minutes, I'll be super quick."

Without waiting for an answer, I dashed into the men's restroom.

When I emerged, he was still there, scrolling his phone with slender fingers.

Taking a closer look, I realized he was quite handsome.

Grinning, I approached him. "Thanks a lot."

He glanced at me, pocketed his phone, and said, "Let's go."

Let's Go?

Go where?

I was momentarily baffled, wondering if he mistook me for someone casual.

Pondering for a moment, I took out my phone. "I'm actually here with friends today, maybe some other time. Let's exchange contacts, so next time I need the restroom, I'll know who to call."

He paused, clearly thrown off, not reaching for his phone but looking at me with a meaningful stare. "Why would you call me?"

Playing dumb, huh? Definitely a seasoned player.

The trick here was to act uninterested; that usually puts guys like him off.

"You were just offering to take me somewhere, right? Say no more; I get it. But tonight's a no-go, so how about next time?"

If he actually called me, I'd just block him later!

He didn't move, so I shrugged, quickly putting my phone back in my pocket. "Fine, whatever. I'll take off then. Just, uh, thanks for saving me in a pinch."

I turned and bolted, heading straight back to the karaoke room, silently congratulating myself on my smooth escape.

A few minutes later, I was telling my friends about the "creep" I encountered by the bathroom when the door swung open. I looked up, and there he was, standing in the doorway, familiar face and all.

Seriously? He had the nerve to follow me back here?!

Before I could say anything, Landen Sanderson, the head of the Public Relations Club in our university, waved him over. "Hanson Baxter! Finally, you made it!"

Hanson Baxter?

The Hanson Baxter my friend had been going on and on about – the student council president?

Thinking back on our little encounter, I felt my whole body tense up. But things were about to get worse.

My friend, who had been listening eagerly to my story, nudged me, oblivious to my discomfort. "So, who was the creep in the bathroom? What happened with him?"

Hanson looked over, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Creep? Talking about someone specific?"

Oh god, it's me.

I'm the creep.