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“Anyway, what was your name again?” Her voice is professional, if not a little cold, not even with the slightest him of shame herfaux pas.I give her my details, and she gives me a print-out of my schedule, a map of the school with my dorm room circled and hands over an academy issued tablet and the key to my room.
“You’re in a shared room with an occupant already assigned. You’ll be sharing with Blakely Spencer, unless of course she’s made some personal arrangement. If you have any questions, refer to your guide.” She all but dismisses me as she returns to tapping away on my desktop.
I’m practically frozen from head to toe by the time I’ve lugged my bags up the three flights of stairs to the freshman accommodation, and I’m a little ashamed to say I just stand there and freak out when I make it to my assigned room.
I’m in university. I never thought I would attend any university, let alone one with the reputation of Fairwater. I didn’t even get to graduate high school, for Christs sake. Between mytrainingand the abundance of homework and assignments, I had no time to study. I wasn’t left with much choice, and so I left.
Shifting the strap on my bag higher, I push my way in with a series of curses and grunting when it doesn’t budge immediately. Whatever I thought I might walk into was very, very wrong. A guy sitting on the end of one of the king beds, leaning on his hands behind him, pants at his ankles and a blonde girl bobbing up and down between his thighs, making a noisy show of slurping and sucking him. They either didn’t hear me because of his own grunting or didn’t care. I’m unsure which I’d prefer.
My eyes widen as the guy's gaze lifts to my own, grey eyes the color of moonstone staring back at me. How I didn’t notice the most enthralling pale grey eyes I’ve ever seen this morning, I don’t know. Tiny flecks of a darker steel color rim his irises and it takes moment, but I recognize him as the friend from this morning.
His ash brown hair flops around his forehead and trails down the base of his neck, curling at the ends. The untamed length only seeming to accentuate the sharp lines of his features. A perfectly straight nose and jawline that looks like it could cut glass. His sooty eyelashes so thick, his pale eyes almost glow at the crisp contrast.
As I’m appraising him, I know he is doing the same to me. Drinking me in slowly, starting at what little is exposed of my legs and leisurely making his way up resting on areas he deems of interests. I’m not a tall girl, barely reaching five ft two, so there’s not much for him to still. Still, I see his eyes trail languidly over all my hidden curves, pausing on the plushness of my mouth before his eyes flick back to my own. My skin feeling hot and prickly at his casual perusal, and when he delivers a panty dropping smirks that threatens to buckle my knees, I know he likes what he sees, despite how much of a hot mess I am.
I can’t deny that I’m in a similar situation. His shirt is completely unbuttoned, exposing long lines of tanned muscle. The defined ridges of his abdomen showing he works out regularly, but he’s relaxed about his rep count. In fact, he looks effortlessly perfect, more like he was just born this beautiful. Ink covers the entirety of his left rib cage, a horned shadow creature, only eyes and teeth fully visible in the vast blackness. A circular twist of roots and twigs hangs lopsided over one of the horns. A crown?
Ragged breathing draws my attention off his chest and back to his shapely mouth, lips parted as his breathing gets heavier. He has twin lip rings on one side of his mouth, curling through and over his skin, and noticing what has my attention, he draws them up into his mouth and bites. His groan is obscene.
The girl in front of him, whom I’m assuming is Blakely, starts bobbing at a furious pace, but those grey eyes doesn’t leave mine. He tilts his head as he continues to stare at me through hooded eyes, his lip still snagged between white teeth. He looks blissed out.
It takes me a moment to remember that I have been shamelessly staring at man get a blow job from my new roommate, who I’ve yet to meet. It takes everything in me to tear my eyes away from his, but as soon as I do I bolt for the bathroom.
I get the door open as a gravelly moan rips out of him telling me that he’s reached his peak. My body releases an answering shudder, racking me straight to my core, my mouth now unbelievably dry. I will never unhear how sexy that sounded. Without turning back, I make quick work of locking myself in and stripping out of my ruined clothes.
I shower longer than I normal, taking time to wash my hair and sudd myself up repeatedly so that I don’t wander out and see the pair fucking on the couch or something. Towel in hand drying my hair, I take stock of the bathroom.
It’s larger than I would have expected for a dorm room bathroom, fit out with a white marble vanity, large stand-alone tub, and a shower big enough to house four people at once. Everything is stark white and despite how in-fashion the style is, it feels clinical.
Pulling on a pair of three-quarter length tights and an oversized hoodie, I move around setting up all my bathroom essentials in the vacant shelves. I don’t have much, enough to cover half of one shelf and a first aid kit for emergencies, but it’s more than I’ve ever had, and I can’t stop the silly smile about having moisturizers.
The money I’ve earned over the years didn’t warrant small luxuries. I had necessities to be taken care of before I could splurge on something as insignificant as making my legs feel smooth, especially since one of my legs will never really feel that way no matter what I do. When it’s clear I can’t find anything more to do, I hesitantly make my way out of the bathroom. Taking stock of the area, I can’t believe I didn’t notice the kitchenette when I first walked in, fitted with stove, a mini refrigerator. The splash back is decorated in sage green and silver, with the same white marble benchtop as the bathroom.
In front of the two king beds is a three-seater charcoal sofa facing and singular armchair pointed towards a tv, with a coffee table in between. Already clothes are strewn everywhere, and the dorms have only been open for a few hours. The whole set up seems unnecessary, but I would be lying if I said it wouldn’t be nice to kick back and binge watch my favorite shows.
Mystery man is gone but Blakely is lying on her stomach on the same bed she was kneeling at earlier, staring into her phone. She doesn’t acknowledgement me as I move around putting my things away in the wardrobe, until I flop down on the other bed.
“Do you have drugs?” Her question shocks me, mostly since she seemed content on ignoring me until now. Tilting my head toward her, she has since tied her hair back in a messy bun. Her skin is pale, like she doesn’t go outside enough, freckles are spread across her face and travel over her arms. The vibrant blue of her eyes can be seen from here, even though she still hasn’t looked up from her phone. Looking at her now, I realise she was one of the girls who exited the car this morning. Guess, I was wrong about the freckles not being on her face. It’s possible that it was covered with make-up, but personally I think she looks better with them on display.
“Uh… no, not really my thing.” I reply.
“Alcohol?”
“Not on me.”Lie.I have a couple bottles hidden in my duffle bag for emergencies. I have a feeling that a few weeks surrounded by these rich kids is going to lead me to drink, so best prepare for the occasion.
“Cigarettes?”
“Is there a point to this?” Sighing, giving her a pointed look, not that she saw it.
“Mmm.” She says nothing else and goes back to completely ignoring me. I wait a moment longer before getting up and setting out what little belongings I have in the wardrobe. It’s not much but it’s most of what I own. The rest of my things stay in Clarke’s apartment, at his insistence.
When I’ve finished organizing everything the way I want, my shoes lined up neatly, shirts folded and tucked in the drawers, I turn around and see Blakely standing less than a foot from me. I manage to choke down my squeak of surprise, she’s still wearing the heels from earlier, so it’s surprising I didn’t hear them clicking across the floor.
Her nose is wrinkled up as she looks at me, scrutinizing everything from my hair, my comfy clothes, and bare feet. I stand completely still, unsure on whether I should call her out on it or not, but instead just fold my arms over my chest, like I can protect myself from her seeing too much of me. After what feels like a lifetime, she lets out a deeply irritated sigh before glancing down at her phone, then flicking those eyes back to me.
“I tend to have guests often, so don’t get comfortable. You’ll be out within the week. And until then, keep your eyes off my guys. The men here don’t fuck trash.”
She shoots me one last time disgusted look before turning on her heel and slamming the door so hard the echo shakes the walls. I remain frozen in place, shocked and feeling a little out of my depth on how to navigate rooming with her if this is how she reacts after one conversation. If you could even call it that.
