Chapter 11

My life over the past two weeks had been a series of tragedies. Another example of this was the constant banging I heard coming from the room next to mine. I didn't need to get creative with guesses; it was the sound of Jenna's bed frame hitting the wall, a sound that I'd learned about since last week.

Yes, she was having sex with her date from last Friday in her room.

This was a studio apartment, with a half-wall dividing "the only room" from the area with the couch and kitchen. There were no real walls, and sound traveled freely. Let's just say I had been a privileged listener to things I didn't want to hear. I tried to get comfortable in about five different positions on her living room sofa and covered my ears with a pillow. It didn't work; I could still hear everything clearly, so clearly that I felt like a pervert.

"Derek, go slower, the bed's making a lot of noise," Jenna thought she whispered.

"It shouldn't be audible. If it was, your friend would have told us," replied the