Chapter 3: Roommate Horror

I hadn't even seen his face yet, but I could tell he was tall—his hair nearly brushed the doorframe.

This roommate had to be at least 6'3".

As a gay guy, my favorite thing about men is their legs.

Hmm, not bad—long and straight.

Looking up, a black shirt hugged a broad, lean waist, one hand tucked into a pocket, the other hanging loose—slender, fair, with long, elegant fingers.

I thought, if his face is even half as good, this guy is absolutely top-tier in the gay scene.

Just as I was about to check out his face, lightning struck me.

My legs went weak and I dropped to my knees.

Crap—

Chase Milton.

Chase Milton's clear, beautiful eyes fixed on me. My spine tingled like a thousand ants crawling up and down.

My hands shook so bad I nearly dropped my phone. My heart jackhammered in my chest. I scrambled to my feet, trying to save face: "I... my leg cramped, that's all."

Without waiting for his reaction, I grabbed my stuff and dashed out of the dorm.

Help!

How did Chase Milton end up as my roommate?

I need a room change!

Two hours later, I slunk back to the dorm, defeated.

I practically begged the dorm manager, offering to take any broom closet or laundry room, but she just gave me that overworked, underpaid stare.

And according to university rules, all freshmen must live on campus. Only in sophomore year can you apply to move out.

So I have to live with the horror boss for a whole year.

I thought about calling my mom and begging her to pull some strings, but in this world, she wasn't around. So I settled for sending my best friend a meme-filled SOS text, even though I knew he wouldn't answer.