You Should've Taught Me Such Naughty Things.

➽ One.

ONE – I only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me.

You had been living in a dormitory with this dirty blond guy for almost a year. Both of you were going in the same university and had a few classes together, but he never tried to start a conversation with you. There were times when you were itching to talk to him, but you never had the guts to say something the moment he steps inside your shared dormitory.

The longest conversation you had with him was when you got sick and he asked you if you needed anything. You told him that you didn’t, even though you actually needed something, but seemed as if he didn’t get the message that you were trying to tell him, and he quickly left you without any other word.

Guys just don’t understand girls sometimes.

Anyway, that incident was a month ago, and the silence was deafening you already.

From one of your classes, you found out that his name was Patrick Stump. One of your friends told you that he was a singer of a band, but you didn’t really believe at first because he seemed to be one of those aloof people who prefer to sit in a corner and mope about their lives. You found out that you were wrong after he and his band performed in your homecoming dance once.

He had a really beautiful voice, and he didn’t look so bad either. He was actually handsome. Not to mention that he had an impeccable taste in men’s fashion. And from your P.E. class, you heard some of the girls gossiping about his six-pack abs when they saw him changing in the guys’ lockers.

But, that wasn’t what you were after – even if you’ve already seen how beautiful his body was after ‘accidentally’ peeking from his slightly opened bedroom door when he was changing last week (making you almost drool afterwards). You had an explainable feeling of attraction towards him ever since then.

But, meanwhile, enough of that. All you wanted was to talk with him because the silence in your shared dormitory was already ear-shattering, killing you slowly.

That night, after your classes, you planned on talking to him. You then realized that he was on the shower, so you decided to wait for him in your small living room instead. To kill the time, you plopped down on the sofa, tried reading a book and finishing your English essay, but you were so preoccupied. You weren’t sure what was distracting you, but there definitely must be a reason why you were feeling like that. It wasn’t like you at all.

For you, it felt weird listening to the soft sounds of the shower coming from the bathroom. You knew that your roommate was in there, that dirty blond guy you rarely talk to. It wasn’t your intention to listen to him as he shower, but since it was awfully quiet in your dormitory, the only sounds that you could hear were the running water and the loud pounding of your heart against your chest.‘What’s happening to me?’ you asked yourself, cursing underneath your breath.

From time to time, probably every five minutes or so, you glanced at the closed bathroom door to check whether if he was finished showering or not. You’ve been doing that for the past twenty-five minutes, and you weren’t sure why you were so anxious. It was just Patrick Stump that you were going to talk to, your roommate, not the president of the United States or the Queen of England.

He was taking really long to finish. Even though you didn’t want to imagine anything, the wild part of your brain was trying to form images of your roommate doing ‘unspeakable’ things. You didn’t want to think too much about what he might be doing in the shower.

It wasn’t long until the bathroom door creaked open and the dirty blond had stepped out. You heard his footsteps, and you immediately stood up from the sofa and turned your heel to approach him, but what you saw just took your breath away and left you petrified.