one
thing. It’s not like I’d ever fit into any of those high fashion brands for
super skinny chicks. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time I liked what I
was wearing.
And they’re always so damn perky .
That fake kind of nice, where they pretend to like you then talk all kinds of
crap about you behind your back.
They can go and on about the most
mundane shit, totally content with endless conversation about the most recent
gossip. It’s nauseating. I never cared about any of that. I’m way too focused
on my studies right now to waste my time with that stuff.
But here I am, on my way to
interview with Triple Pi. You could say I’ve lost all sense of
self-respect—except, I’m not doing it for me.
The truth is I’m doing it because
of Brent—because he asked me to.
But then, I’d have my legs spread
eagle faster than he could say, “Can I fuck you?” if he ever did. Not that he
would, I’m just saying.
And that’s because Brent is the man
I want to marry one day. I mean, we only just met, but I really hope we do.
He’s actually the first and only
guy who has talked to me since I moved into the dorms last week. I wish it were
because he wanted to, but really it’s just that he had to. Brent
is the dorm supervisor, so he was the one to show me around when I first got
there.
And when I first saw him, it was an
instant crush. Like getting hit with a sledgehammer. I couldn’t even form words
when he introduced himself. Like I forgot how to speak English all of a sudden.
He extended his hand and his gaze
held me in a state of suspension. I couldn’t believe those eyes; dark hazel
swimming around pupils that bore through to my soul.
“I’m Brent,” he said.
“I’m—hello, you—I mean,
I’m Brent—no, I am Kat.”
“Hi Kat,” he said with a genuine
smile, showing his perfect teeth. It sure looked genuine, anyway.
His presence was dominating.
Standing there in the tiny dorm hallway, he could have been a giant. His
massive bicep flexed ever so slightly at the extension of his arm, leading up
to broad shoulders so wide he barely fit between the narrow walls. His white
V-neck shirt was tight against the muscle mounds of his torso. I’d never felt
so much wetness between my legs.
My thoughts were lost in a fog.
Basic motor functions were foreign to me.
He held his hand there for a long
time, then looked puzzled as to why I hadn’t shaken it yet. He shrugged and
retreated the hand to brush back a thread of black hair. It was s smooth, fluid
motion that escaped the awkwardness of the moment. Unlike me.
“How do you like your room?” He
said. My room? It was a total mess of unpacked boxes and still is. There’s no
hot water and it’s smaller than an office cubicle. A complete shitwreck.
“I—I really like it,” I said,
still staring at him. I must have looked like a complete psycho. I hadn’t even
showered or brushed my hair that morning. Of course, I wasn’t exactly expecting
I’d meet the man of my dreams.
“Really? A lot of people get pissed
about getting stuck in the West building.”
“Do—do they?”
“Yeah, it’s in serious need of a
renovation. Place it totally falling apart.”
“Oh I guess it is—does,” I
say, followed by an awkward giggle. My weight shifts to one leg. I couldn’t
believe how flustered I was in front of Brent. It’s like I was suddenly back in
high school, giddy and crushing hard on a guy I just met.
“So, have you looked over the dorm
rules yet?” About twenty times already. They’re plastered on pretty much every
surface area of the entire building.
“Just once or twice—a couple
times—I think.”
“Good,” he flashes another cool
smile, his eyes glinting in the dim light, “just remember no visitors after
nine. Come on, let me show you around.”
And so the rest of the tour
continued in this fashion; me staring at him like