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“I didn’t ask for a definition, young woman. I said there were boys on this floor.” His nostrils flare and his body shakes. “You’ll pay for that later.”
“Pay for what? You’re not the boss of me,” I protest, taking a wide stance and jabbing my hands into my sides.
“I am now if you want to live until morning.”
“Wha-what’s that supposed to mean?”
His eyes roam around my room, his pupils dilated and very alert as he seems to catalog everything. His eyes freeze when he sees the Justin Bieber poster on the wall. “That yours?”
“My roommates.”
“Better be.”
“You gonna tell me what you’re looking for and what the hell’s going on? Why do you think you can just show up at my home?”
“I need your schedule,” he says, blowing off my question.
“Seems like you already have it.”
“I need to be sure.”
Seeing this beast in black framed by all the cornucopia of pastels is beyond comical. He’s taller than the bunk bed I share with Abby and if he tried to lie in it, even the lower bunk, no doubt it would snap in half from his sheer size and weight.
Almost instantly our two hundred square foot space smells of this man, which makes sense considering how much of this tiny room his big body eats up.
“You can’t have it,” I tell him, trying to stand my ground and stand up for myself, despite my mind drifting off to thoughts of me lying down, his big body on top of me as he fucks me into oblivion on my bed, snapping it immediately but being so out of control that he keeps going. Because if he were to take me it’s clear he’d be the one having sex with me, not the other way around. Nothing I could say or do would prevent him from getting his way. Nothing.
And the worst part is I wouldn’t even try. Not because I don’t want to protest and wind up getting hurt, but because I want to experience all he has to offer. Yesterday was only a taste, we both know it.
Now, I’m curious to know what it would feel like if he made a whole meal out of me.
“Pay some computer science student on campus to hack the servers to get it for you if you want it so bad.”
“I’m not interested in other people. I’m only interested in you,” he says, his gaze settling on me. He extends a hand and dammit if I don’t fall in line, digging in the top drawer of my dresser and pulling my schedule out, handing it to him.
“You don’t deviate from this?”
I shake my head no.
“You never miss class?”
“Never.”
“How long have you known this roommate of yours?”
“We just met this year. The dorm assigned us as roommates.”
“So she’s not important to you.”
“Of course she’s important!” I protest.
“You know what I mean.”
“So do you,” I say, putting my foot down and standing my ground. I’m not going to have him demean or rank my relationships with anyone. It’s not his place. “You need to leave,” I say.
“You’re right. We best get going. Pack a bag.”
“Pack a bag? I’m not going anywhere.”
