Dani had always hated April Fool’s Day. She was a real late bloomer as a kid, which meant she was an easy target for bullies who thought it was incredible to be gifted a whole day every year dedicated to making her life miserable. Even now, away from home and in her final year of university, an adult by anybody’s standards, the 1st of April did nothing more than bring back unpleasant, shameful memories. So when the other girls in her accommodation building suggested playing a prank on the boys next door at their party that night, she was initially unconvinced.

“Isn’t it just cruel?” she asked, as they sat around in the kitchen with bottles of cheap wine, blowing up the balloons that they’d later scatter around the hastily-cleaned space in some small attempt at party decorations. “And anyway,” she pressed on, when the girls just laughed at her, “isn’t April Fool’s meant to end at midday? Isn’t the whole deal that you can’t fool someone once that’s passed?”

“It’s just a bit of a joke,” Leanne said. “We’ll giggle about it, they’ll be a bit embarrassed, and everyone will forget about it by tomorrow.”

The prank that had been suggested, it turned out, was a very simple one. They were going to make a bowl of punch that they’d make sure only the boys drank from, and they were going to spike it with Viagra.

“Why is it funny, though?” Dani asked. “Do we really want a bunch of drunk guys stumbling around our house with boners that won’t go down?”

Leanne gave her a wry smile. “That sounds like a fun time to me. And besides,” she said, nudging Dani with her shoulder, “James is coming. And if this goes to plan, maybe you can offer to help him out with his little problem.”

“For the last time, I don’t fancy James!” Dani said. Ever since they’d first moved in back in September her housemates had insisted that there must be something going on between Dani and the nerdy boy who lived across the quad, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Yes, they spent a lot of time together. Yes, they had a lot in common. Yes, he was attractive, in a sort of understated, slightly dorky kind of way. But she honestly saw him as more of a brother than anything else, and the thought of doing anything even remotely sexual with him made her want to run off, become a nun, and never have sex again.

Not that she was having all that much sex to begin with. While everyone else had partied their way through the past two years Dani had instead put her head down and worked hard. She was going to come out of this period of her life with a degree she could be proud of and, hopefully, a great job, but when she looked around at her friends - all of whom seemed, she had to admit, happier and more relaxed than her - a part of her did wonder if it was all worth it.

Still, as the evening crept in and the flat began to hum with the warm, familiar tension that always came before a party, Dani found herself drifting back to her room with a strange mix of reluctance and anticipation. She didn’t want to be part of the prank, she was still firm on that, but she also didn’t want to spend the whole night sulking in the kitchen while everyone else had fun. She stood in front of her wardrobe, chewing the inside of her cheek, trying to decide what to wear. Her fingers brushed past her usual party staples, jeans and t-shirts and cute halter necks, finally landing on the slinky black dress she almost never wore. It wasn’t exactly her, not the version of herself she was most comfortable with at any rate, but tonight maybe that was okay. She didn’t let herself think too hard about the part of her that had clocked James’ name with a little flutter earlier, or the part of her now wondering what he might think if he saw her in this.

By the time she made it back to the kitchen, the music was louder, the lights dimmed slightly, and the first of the guests had started to trickle in. Leanne raised an eyebrow as Dani entered, letting out a low whistle as she handed off a balloon to someone who immediately let it float up to the ceiling.

“Well,” she said, “look who’s decided to join the land of the living.” She grinned, eyes running up and down Dani’s body in a way that made her feel exposed, hunted. “You clean up nice.”

Dani rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. The compliments weren’t why she’d put on the dress, she told herself. Not really. (Not Leanne’s compliments, anyway, a small voice said.) And when there was a knock on the door - a sharp, familiar rhythm - her stomach did an annoying little flip. She told herself it was just the wine on an empty stomach, nothing more.

It was James at the door, of course, along with the rest of his housemates who had been invited as well. The soon-to-be victims, she thought. His hoodie was unzipped over a slightly-too-crisp T-shirt, his hair falling into his eyes, cow-lick sticking up at the back like always. He gave Dani a quick smile as he stepped inside, familiar, the one she’d seen a hundred times across library tables and over takeaway coffee cups. But something about it tonight felt different.

Maybe it was the dress. Maybe it was the fact that he actually noticed the dress. His eyes flicked down for a split second before bouncing back up like he was embarrassed to have caught himself looking, and her stomach did a little flip again. Leanne’s glance had felt predatory. This felt different, somehow.

“Hey,” he said, a little shyly. “You look ... nice.” It was simple but sincere, and for some reason it made Dani feel warmer than wine ever had.

“Thanks,” Dani said, trying not to sound as awkward as she suddenly felt. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and gestured vaguely towards the living room. “Help yourself to snacks. I think we’ve got crisps and ... stuff.”

James smiled and stepped past her, moving aside to let the other guys filter in through the door with nods of alright Dan and Leanne around? and where’s the booze? I’m parched.

“I’m going to go get a drink, then,” James said. Dani gave him a vague nod and let herself drift back to the kitchen, needing a moment away from the noise that was already starting to build in the hallway. Leanne and Becca were huddled over the counter like witches at a cauldron, pouring bottle after bottle of cheap spirits into the punch bowl while giggling behind their hands.

The little blue pills sat in a neat pile next to the sink, still in their blister pack. Dani watched as Becca snapped each one out, crushing them beneath the bowl of a wide ladle before sprinkling them into the punch.

“It’s not too much, is it?” Dani asked, folding her arms, determined to keep herself as far away from this as possible. “That seems like a lot.”

“Don’t worry,” Leanne said. “They’ll be fine. One each.”

Becca looked over to her and smiled, though she looked a little hesitant, too. “It’s just a laugh,” she said.

Dani frowned but said nothing. The wine was sitting heavy in her stomach, and the low thump of the music from the next room had taken on a strangely anticipatory rhythm.

“Come on,” Leanne said, swirling the ladle in the bowl until she was happy that everything had dissolved. She lifted it in both hands, bearing it in front of her like some sort of sacrificial offering. “Let’s get the fun going.”

Dani followed the other girls into the living room, where the lads were standing huddled around the amplifier. Becca had plugged her ancient clicky-wheel ipod into it and they were scrolling through playlists, bantering back and forth about what song should be on next.

The girls descended on the group with exaggerated cheer, Becca announcing “refreshments have arrived!” in a sing-song voice as Leanne set the punch bowl down on the coffee table with a flourish.

“Help yourselves, boys,” she said, already ladling out the first few cups with theatrical enthusiasm. One of the guys - Dani had never managed to remember his name, just knew him as the loud one with the shaved head and rugby shoulders - clapped his hands together like a kid at Christmas.

“Oh my god, actual punch? I thought that was just in films,” he said, grabbing a cup and taking a swig, grimacing immediately. “Fucking hell, that’s strong.”

“Would we serve anything weak?” Leanne asked, grinning.

Dani hovered by the door, arms crossed again, watching as the boys each took a cup, laughing and making exaggerated toasts to “academic excellence” and “getting absolutely fucking battered”. She scanned the group, trying to spot James, found him by the window nursing a beer. Good, she thought. Maybe he wouldn’t be caught up in this.

But still she felt like this was wrong, and as Leanne looked over she beckoned her and Becca to follow her into the kitchen, leaving the boys alone.

“We can’t do this, Leanne,” she said, her voice low as though they could possibly be overheard over the music and the rising laughter from the other room. “I know you think it’s just a laugh but what if something goes wrong? What if one of them has a heart condition or ... I don’t know, or anything. You’ve basically poisoned them.”

Leanne rolled her eyes and leaned against the counter, already halfway through pouring herself another drink.

“It’s Viagra, not arsenic,” she said. “They’ll be fine. Worst case scenario, someone has to have an awkward couple of hours in A&E.” She took a swig from her drink, swallowed heavily. “Maybe he’ll get lucky and get a handjob from a nurse.”

Before Dani could respond, a sudden chorus of rowdy, gleeful shouting erupted from the other room.

“Down it! Down it! Down it!”

Dani’s stomach dropped. She didn’t even stop to glance at the other girls, just turned and ran. She reached the doorway in time to see James wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a triumphant grin on his face as he set the empty punch bowl back down on the table like a trophy. The boys around him were whooping and cheering, some doubled over with laughter, others slapping him on the back like he’d just won the lottery. Dani felt the blood drain from her face.

“Fuck,” Leanne said, appearing at her shoulder. “He didn’t-”

“Yeah he fucking did!” one of the boys shouted, seeing them in the doorway, and again the group fell about laughing. James looked over to Dani, wide grin on his face, the neck and upper chest of his t-shirt dark and wet from spilled liquid.

“James,” Dani said sharply, already pushing past the boys crowding the room. Her voice must have cut through something, because the laughter faltered for a minute.

“Oh no mate, mum’s here, look out,” rugby shoulders said, laughing even harder when she threw a sharp look at him.

James blinked at her, still smiling, face a little flushed. “Hey, you missed it. I-”

“Come with me,” she said. “Now.”

Something in her tone made him stop. She grabbed his wrist, not hard but firmly, and tugged him back into the hallway, ignoring the exaggerated oooohs and wolf-whistles from the others. She didn’t let go until they were in the tiny bathroom just off the corridor, the door shut firmly behind them. He looked startled now, more sober than he had a minute ago.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“You drank the whole bowl,” she said.

“Yeah?” He was obviously confused, half laughing as he took in her stern look. “It was a dare, Dani, it’s fine. I’ve drunk that much before, I’m not going to-”

“It was spiked,” she snapped. “With Viagra. The whole fucking thing.”

He was still laughing, but now the amused confusion was beginning to slide sideways off his face, replaced with concern and a little bit of growing fear.

“What?” he said. “What are you talking about?”

She let out a deep breath, crossed her arms over her chest again, suddenly feeling exposed in the flimsy dress. “Leanne spiked the punch,” she said. “She thought it would be funny to give you all a dose of Viagra.”

“Leanne spiked the punch.” His voice was flat, and he moved to sit down on the side of the bath. She nodded. “How much Viagra?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “One for each of you, I think?”

James scrubbed his hand over his face, then through his hair, fingers trembling slightly. “So that’s what, eight pills? Give or take?”

Dani didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, then leaned forward over the sink. For a second she thought he was going to throw up right there, but he just stood, breathing heavily, staring down the dark drain like it might offer a solution. Then, without warning, he turned and dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, jamming two fingers down his throat.

“James-”

He gagged, coughed, tried again. Nothing.

“Fuck,” he whispered, whiping his mouth on a wad of toilet paper. “It’s not working.”

“I’m sorry,” Dani said, softly. “I didn’t think she’d actually go through with it.”

He sat back on his heels, eyes closed, face pale now, not from fear but with rising fury. “This isn’t a joke,” he said, voice tight. “This could actually-” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “I’m going home.”

“Do you want me to come w-”

“No,” he said, standing abruptly. “No, I just ... I need to go. I need water and to not be here.”

He pushed past her gently and opened the door, stepping back into the noise and music and laughter like it was another world. Any buzz Dani had been feeling from the wine she’d drunk earlier was long gone. She watched him walk down the hall without looking back.

By the time she returned to the party the mood had shifted slightly. Not enough for anyone to notice unless they were looking for it, but enough that Dani felt it in her bones. The punch bowl sat empty, abandoned. The music was louder now, the kind of loud that meant that nobody wanted to talk anymore.

Leanne was over in the corner of the run, dancing up against rugby shoulders, his hands cupping her arse through the fabric of her dress. She looked over, made eye contact with Dani, winked across the room.

Without saying anything Dani turned and slipped back to her room, closed the door, and crawled under the duvet without taking off her dress. Her phone buzzed once - Leanne, probably - but she didn’t look at it. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, heart heavy with something she couldn’t quite name.

She must have dozed off at some point, lulled by the thudding bass and muffled shouts from the living room, because when her phone buzzed again it startled her. The room was dark now, save for the soft glow of the screen lighting up her bedside table. She blinked blearily, reached for her phone, swiped away the dazzling light of the clock - 01:17 - and opened her messages.

James: hey. are you awake?

A pause, then another message a minute later.

James: i feel like shit. can you come over? just for a bit. don’t worry if you can’t

She sat up slowly, rubbing at her eyes. The house had quieted a little. Music was still going, but sloppier now, with long pauses between songs and fewer voices shouting over it. That specific kind of late-party vibe where everyone left was either clinging desperately to the night or too drunk to stand.

She hesitated, thumb hovering over her phone. He wasn’t asking for much. And after everything, after how worried she’d been about this prank going wrong, she couldn’t bring herself to leave him alone in it.

Dani: be there in 5

She slipped out of bed, pulled on a hoodie over the dress - one of James’, hilariously enough, some noisy band she’d never heard of - then padded quietly through the corridor, avoiding the half-spilled drinks and discarded shoes littering the floor.

The cold air hit her as she stepped outside and crossed the concrete quad to the boys’ place, heart thrumming for reasons she didn’t quite understand. Someone had propped the front door to their building open with a brick and she let herself in, followed the familiar route to James’ room. Dim light was spilling out of the crack under his door and she knocked gently, for some reason worried about disturbing people even though she guessed most of the lads would still be over at her place.

“Yeah?” his voice said, muffled from beyond the wood.

“It’s me,” she said.

“It’s open.”

She pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it softly behind her. James’ room was lit by the soft yellow glow of his desk lamp, everything else in shadow. His laptop was open on his desk, the screen showing one of the old shows he liked to watch, the one about an army hospital in Korea or Vietnam or somewhere, though the sound was off. He was curled up on his bed, duvet pulled up to his check, cheeks flushed and hair stuck damply to his forehead.

“Hey,” she said, quietly.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice a little hoarse. “I didn’t know if you’d be awake.”

“Yeah, I- It was loud, you know?” She glanced around for somewhere to sit. His desk chair was covered in clothes so she cleared it with one hand and pulled it over near the bed. He watched her in silence, eyes heavy-lidded.

“I’ve got the worst headache,” he said after a moment. “Feels like my brain’s trying to push out through my eyes.”

She laughed, then caught herself. “Sorry,” she said, and he shook his head. “That’ll be the eight Viagra and two pints of punch, I guess,” she said, folding her arms and leaning back into the chair. She lifted her feet, resting them on the edge of the bed. “You should probably drink some water.”

“I did. Threw most of it back up,” he said. “This might be the most embarrassed I’ve ever been in my life.”

Dani smiled faintly, unsure of what to say to that, so she just sat with him in the quiet. He stared blankly into the laptop screen, shifting occasionally under the duvet. As they sat there in silence she felt herself starting to shiver, the cold of the walk over beginning to catch up with her. The hoodie helped, but her legs were bare and the chill had crept into her bones. Not wearing shoes had been a mistake.

It didn’t take long for James to notice. “You’re freezing,” he said. “Why are you just sitting over there? Come here?”

“I’m fine,” she said, out of habit more than truth.

“Dani,” he said, patting the duvet beside him and shifting sideways to make room in the bed. “Come under the covers. I promise I’m not trying anything. I just feel like a microwaved corpse and I don’t want you freezing to death on my account.”

She hesitated, then transferred herself over to the bed to sit next to him. It dipped slightly as she climbed in beside him, pulling the duvet up to her shoulders. His bed was only a single and she felt jammed in next to him, no way to avoid contact at all. But it was fine, she said. She’d been cold and now she wasn’t, and that was all it was going to be. They’d sat like this a thousand times before, watching films and chatting until they drifted off to sleep. There was no reason for this to be different.

But her shoulder was pressed against his arm, and his thigh was warm where it touched hers, and now that she was still again it was impossible not to notice the shape of him beside her, the rise and fall of his chest, the soft sound of his breathing. He shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable, and the duvet rustled as his elbow brushed her side.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“It’s okay,” she said quickly. Too quickly. Her voice sounded strange in the small space between them.

They lay there in silence for a long moment. Dani stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the paint, hyper-aware of every inch of space her body occupied - or didn’t. James let out a long breath beside her and she felt it more than heard it.

“I didn’t think tonight would end like this,” he said, quietly, with a rueful sort of laugh. “I thought maybe we’d play some drinking games, maybe you’d finally let me beat you at Mario Kart.”

“Never going to happen,” she said, smiling despite herself.

“Yeah,” he said, and when she turned her head to look at him, he was already watching her. She flushed, suddenly glad of the dark. “I know.”

She was the first to break eye contact, dropping her eyes to the duvet. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, exactly. Just heavy, like the room was holding its breath.

James shifted again beside her, uncomfortable in a different way now, and let out a low, almost embarrassed sigh. “This is honestly kind of horrible,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

She glanced at him, brows knitting together. “What is?”

He gave a small, humourless laugh and gestured vaguely towards his lower half, still buried beneath the duvet. “It won’t go away,” he said. “I mean, I knew that was the point, you know? But I’ve never really thought about it. It’s like-” He cut himself off, eyes darting away, face flushed more deeply now, she could see it even in the gloom. “It hurts.”

“Oh,” Dani said, not knowing what else to say. “That sucks.”

“Yeah. Like. Really sucks.” He smiled faintly, but it was all tight edges. “And I’m stuck here lying perfectly still like some kind of weird statue because literally any movement makes it worse.”

She laughed - quietly, kindly - and he did too, just for a second. But then the silence fell again, and this time it curled closer around them, warm and uncertain and full of something neither of them quite knew what to do with.

“Have you-” she said, and then she swallowed the rest of the sentence. No, she told herself. You can’t ask that. You can’t cross that line.

“Have I what?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I want to know,” he said, and she could feel his eyes on the side of her head. He hated unasked questions. He’d drive himself mad knowing there was something sitting there unsaid, no matter how trivial it might be. She’d seen it a thousand times. She stared into the laptop screen, where a man with a stripey towel on his head seemed to be leading an invisible camel around a hospital.

“No,” she said. “I don’t want to embarrass you.”

He laughed, and this time he sounded genuinely amused. “Trust me,” he said, “nothing could make me feel more embarrassed than I already do. And anyway, it’s you. You could never make me feel embarrassed.”

Her stomach flipped again, heart lurching in her chest. You could never make me feel embarrassed.

“Okay, um. Well. I was wondering if you’ve tried ... you know.” She gestured in the vague direction of his crotch, face so warm she thought she could cook on it. “Making it go away.”

There was a brief silence and she could almost feel him digesting what she’d asked, unpicking the question beneath the question. Then he snorted.

“Yeah, I’ve tried ... making it go away.” A pause. “A few times, actually.”

He shifted his legs beside her, the duvet folding into shallow hills, and she suddenly found herself wondering if one of them was being caused by him pressing up underneath it. She found her eyes drawn to his hands where they rested on the duvet, and her mind was suddenly filled with images of what they might have been doing before she arrived. Again she felt that nervous lurch in her stomach, a warm tingling in her lower back. She was acutely aware of her breathing, for some reason, and how it wanted to increase its pace to match her rising heart rate.

“Did it, ah, help? At all?” I can’t believe you’re asking him about playing with himself, she thought. Maybe the wine hadn’t fully worn off after all.

He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Not at all. I think it might have actually made things worse.”

“Worse how?” she asked. Her words were running away with her now, her internal voice screaming at her to stop asking questions about his dick, but it was like the conversation had taken on a life of its own.

“It’s all just a bit ... raw,” he said. “It was sore to begin with but now I’ve sort of ... Well. Skin doesn’t really like to be rubbed a lot, you know?”

“Maybe you should use some lube,” she said, and then she froze. What the fuck did I just say.

James started to answer but she was already climbing out of bed, shame rushing through her from head to toe.

“Where are you-”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should go home. I should leave you alone.”

“No,” he said, sitting up and swinging his legs round, staring up at her from the bed. “Honestly it’s okay. Stay, please, let’s talk about something else.”

“No, I should go,” she said. She was looking around for her shoes, then realised she hadn’t worn any. She stepped over to his door, turned back to him. “I hope you-”

As she began to speak, so did he, rising to his feet and taking a step in her direction, the duvet falling away from him, and they both realised what he’d done at the same time. They both froze.

He’d taken his jeans off to get into bed, wearing only boxers, and now his artificially-hard cock was perfectly silhouetted against the light from the lamp and the laptop on the desk behind him. It was straining against the fabric, dark outline squeezed tight beneath white cotton.

The silence stretched out, neither of them moving, nobody knowing what to do.

“My eyes are up here,” James said, at last, and a laugh bubbled out of her - nervous, embarrassed, something else she couldn’t quite identify. Excited?

“Yeah, I, uh,” she said, loquacious as ever.

“Still up here,” he said, softly, and she finally pulled her eyes away from his crotch, trailing them up his torso to finally lock onto his face. He looked concerned, a little puzzled, but, she realised, not at all embarrassed. He seemed to have come to terms with standing in front of her with a raging boner very quickly.

“I can s-” Her voice came out croaky and she licked her lips, tried again, eyes fixed on the bridge of his nose but constantly wanting to flick down, to take another look. “That does look painful,” she said. He nodded. “Has it ... Have you been like that all night?”

“Yeah,” he said, sitting down on the bed, elbows on his knees, resting his forehead in his hands. From this angle she could no longer see the bulge in his pants, and she realised with surprise that what she was feeling was disappointment.

Slowly, cautiously, like she was approaching a stray cat, she moved over and sat back on the chair she’d vacated earlier. Now she was sitting opposite him and, if she dropped her eyes again, she had a perfect view of the straining lump at his crotch. But you can’t look, she told herself. Don’t look.

“Are you, like, turned on?” she asked. He looked up as she spoke and she managed to pull her eyes up, meeting his in the gloom. Had he noticed her looking? She didn’t know.

“What?”

“I’m just curious,” she said. “Like, it’s fascinating, sort of. You’re h-” - she stuttered over the word, licked her lips nervously, tried again - “you’re hard. You have been for hours. Is it mental as well? Are you horny? Or is it just ... there?”

“I don’t know if I want to talk about this,” he said, but he didn’t look away, was staring straight into her eyes. She saw his pupils dilate slightly and she wondered if hers were doing the same.

“Sorry,” she said. “I know, you’re upset and you’re not having a good time and...” She took a deep breath, tried to steady her racing heart. “I guess I’m just interested. Viagra is ... not something I’ve got any experience of, you know?”

He laughed, finally breaking eye contact, and she allowed herself to exhale. That short burst of amusement seemed to relax him a little. He ran a hand through his hair, leaned back on one elbow on the bed. She was acutely aware of his dick in the bottom of her peripheral vision, almost displayed proudly now that he was leaning back, and she didn’t dare look away from his face for a second in case he looked back and caught her. Her stomach was roiling, she could feel a warm tingling in her lower back, was acutely aware of the fact that it was spreading forward and south. She shifted her legs, crossed one knee over the other, pressed a toe into the edge of his bed and bent it back slightly, hoping a little bit of pain would distract her. It didn’t help.

“Me neither,” he said, at last, and for a second she was stumped.

“Wha-”

“I haven’t ever taken it,” he said, and then the last thing she’d said to him came lurching back into her memory. “I was uh ... I did some Googling when I got back, you know? To see what would happen.”

“What did it say?” she asked.

He coughed like he was clearing his throat, suddenly seemed a little shy. “Obviously it might be different because I’ve had a big dose, but it doesn’t normally cause a reaction on its own,” he said, the words all pouring out of him in an embarrassed rush.

“Oh,” she said. “So wha-”

“It just helps,” he said. “It, uh, enhances” - she could feel the air quotes, even if he didn’t actually make them - “the body’s natural reaction to ... well, stimulation.”

“So if you weren’t turned on you wouldn’t get ... that?” she asked.

“Probably not, no.”

The silence that fell between them was fat and heavy. Her mind was spinning in circles, unable to land on any one thing. When she spoke next it was slow, cautious, choosing her words with care, feeling like she was picking her way across a minefield with no knowledge of how to navigate it. Her brain kept flashing up images of his hands, the lump in his shorts, the things he might have been doing before she got here.