Chad gave me lust.

Early 20s. Wavy shoulder-length black hair, dark eyes, somewhat pudgy in the manner of a frat boy with too many weekends of too many kegs.

We hate each other from the day we meet. He is swarthy and sexist and stares at my breasts without shame whenever we speak. He repulses me and I him, with my feminist views and my well-rehearsed disdain. We work together in a rambling coffeehouse, where folk singers strum a background to our constant bickering. We spend too much effort annoying each other.

And late at night as the college town bars close, we drink the last of our cheap beers and disappear to dark rooms as our friends look the other way, and never speak of it in the morning.