Rival Roommates

3☁︎︎

Valentina
Tick. Tick. Tick. In the corner of the room a little red clock incessantly pulses away, another second ticked off by the little black hand at every beat. The dreary silence of last periods fatigue loomed over us all, most heads laying flat on the table in resigned anticipation till they could leave.

The awaited ring of the bell ran relief through everyone's breath, allowing them to clutch their bags and disappear from the classroom. I took my time adjusting my strap on my shoulders as I walked down the stairs, aware of the ashen gray eyes on me. Sure enough, when I got to the door, Jordan Evans was leaning against the doorframe with both hands inside his front pockets, waiting for me.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of Jordan Evans waiting for me?" I feigned astonishment. His eyes were lightened in amusement as his tongue poked the inside of his cheek.
"Pleasures all mine really," he drawled, his eyes tracing their way down my face and stopping briefly on my lips.

We walked side by side to our room, being approached by atleast seven boys that were acquainted with Jordan, who introduced themselves to me and seemed to forget they came to talk to Evans in the first place. He made it clear that annoyed him, his expression cold and dark, a low grumble escaping his throat, and as soon as they saw the look on his face they would scatter away apprehensively.

When he clicked the lock of our door into place, he turned to me, his jaw held tight,
"Do you not get sick of those fuckers approaching you?"
Shrugging, I relaxed onto the couch, my legs resting on the table, "They're only being friendly."
He let out a small scoff, shaking his head slightly to show how ridiculous he thought I was. He was late to the party.
"Friendly my ass, they want to get into your pants."

My cheeks involuntarily warmed at his bluntness. "Could you be any cruder?" I sneered.
"They want to put their di-" I cut him off, my eyes wide in bewilderment.
"Okay! I get it!" Shooting him a disgusted look, I stood and turned to my room.
A gentle yet firm grip on my wrist stopped me, the heat of his calloused, rough fingers burning a band into my hand. He was a complete contradiction to me; whilst his hands were coarse and harsh, mine were smooth and soft, whilst his were large and veiny, mine were small and lean, yet they fit together like fucking puzzle pieces.

"Just to let you know, you can't leave this room till six." The deep timbre of his voice sent chills through me.
"Why not?" I glared at him, my brows furrowed. Who let this boy think he was big enough to go around telling people their places?
"Because, unless you want to go ahead and ruin the little surprise party your friends are planning, you're going to stay in this dorm."

I glared into his eyes bitterly, partly because the cloudy swirl of gray in them captivated me, and partly because a small piece of me wanted to stay in his presence, around him.
But the moment I stepped away, his grasp on my wrist remained solid, and I tugged my hand, grinding my teeth down hard as he watched me with a spark of amusement in his eyes.

"Let go, asno." I cursed, but that only caused him to jerk me towards him, so close our chests touched with every inhale and that I had to angle my neck backwards to look up at him from his towering height.
"Don't try that whole, I'm taller than you so I'm scary thing on me, because where I come from, most of my family are all 6 foot so it won't work." I mocked, and his eyes flared with a little agitation.

Deciding to rile him even more, I narrowed my eyes, an edge of mischief in my voice.
"How tall even are you? A measly 5'8 probably, you can't be much taller than me."
The corner of his lips lifted, displaying that deep dimple of his and his chest shook with laughter.
"6'4 actually. Next time you try convince a man he's short, try not having to lean your head back to look up at them darling."

Sneering, I yanked my hand from his and stomped off to my room like a little kid.

—•

Twenty minutes later I was sitting cross-legged on his bed, watching Hell's Kitchen on his TV with my face in between my hands. My room was a mess, and I had no energy to carry on unpacking, and seeing as this was the only TV in the whole dorm, this was my best option. Had it been any other day where I could actually be bothered to move my legs around, I probably would have moved the television to my room to spite him.

His room was, well unexpectedly clean. He had a hamper in the corner for his laundry, no photos or Polaroids hung up, (maybe he didn't have friends) and a basic grey wallpaper to match his eyes- and his personality. His bed was a smooth white, and a thick cookbook was placed on the corner of it, the pages brown and aged with neat, cursive handwriting in it. Couldn't possibly be his.

Ramsey's spit flew out off his mouth as he swore at the poor lady who burnt the fish, her eyes watering with tears threatening to trail down her face. He practically insulted her whole bloodline whilst she stood there and took it, all on global television nonetheless. You wouldn't catch me on that show, even if you paid me thousands of pounds.

The door on the side of me unlocked, and Jordan walked out of the bathroom in a pair of shorts, freaking shirtless, a towel hanging around his neck. Did I mention that he didn't have a shirt on? He was shirtless. Fucking shirtless! I don't know if I was excited or shocked, but I do know that the drops of water trailing down his toned, lean stomach all the way down to his V-line, where the shorts hung a bit low were fucking delicious.

"Eyes up here sweetheart." His smooth British accent broke me from my trance, the drawl wrapped around my throat, making it pulse with a maddening tempo.
Heat rushed to my face and I swallowed, shoving the temptation down my throat.
Through my lashes, I saw the dark amusement ghosted in his eyes when my gaze met his.

"As if, don't get yourself all worked up now." I rolled my eyes, something warm flickering low in my stomach.
Take your own fucking advice, Valentina. He stalked towards me, his jaw locked tightly, and it took all my effort to stay firmly where I was sitting on the bed.

When his face was mere inches from mine and I could feel the heat radiating of his body, he drawled out slowly, "Why are you in my room?"

The pulse in my throat flickered, and I tried to keep my voice steady as I answered, "Your room is the only one with a TV." Straightening himself out, he stepped back, and all the heat and warmth from his body was lost.

"Well, since you're here, let's establish the rules." He stated, negligent to the fact he was still shirtless.
"Rules?" I questioned, tilting my head in confusion.
"An agreement so we can stay together in peace." He turned his back to me, opening a cupboard and reaching for a high shelf. I was momentarily dazed as I watched the action in awe, his back muscles tensing when he reached for a shirt.

"Well, I guess we should both keep our sides tidy, though I doubt you have a problem with that right now."
He swiftly put on the shirt, slightly ruffling his hair in the movement and my hand itched with a desire to run my nails through it.
"No boys over after twelve." He stated imperiously, and my eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"No girls over after twelve." I deadpanned, my expression stoic and his eyes crinkled in amusement at my mockery.

"No fucking touching my shit." He grumbled which made me throw my hands up into the air.
"I didn't fucking touch your shit!" I exclaim, falling back onto the bed in exasperation.
"Oh yeah?" His brow is raised in question as he pulls the remote from my hand, waving it in a 'what-did-you-just-say-because-I'm-right' manner.

Leaning back on my elbows, I raise my chin in defiance, "It's not my fault you suck at sharing."
A shadow of hilarity passes through his eyes before he places both his arms by my sides, caging me in between them. His gaze was darkened and captivating, his lips full with a little cut near the edge.
"Oh, I'd have no problem sharing my bed with you darling."
Placing both my hands on his chest, and definitely not missing the hardness of his toned chest, I push him away from me. With his presence so close to me, I can't think with my brain, instead of the little voice in my head saying 'slut me out, respectfully'.

Wrinkling my nose in disgust, I scoff, but a small smile pulls at his lips, his eyes flashing in achieving as though he can see past my facade of disgust.
Before he can fluster me anymore, I get off his bed and walk out the room, flipping him off on the way.
His gaze is hot and heavy on my back, and his deep chuckle fills the room, the smooth drone of his voice causing my pulse to flutter, "My door is always open for you darling."

Oh, you'll be seeing me. And then you'll be the one getting hot and flustered.