“Okay, assholes, fun’s over,” the petite curly-haired blonde demands, shaking the mattress of the bed with her foot. Oh, yeah, this is the ball-buster of the crew; she has that air about her. At all costs, I try to avoid those, but it never fails, the ones I want are always hidden behind the female-muscle of the gang. And this little waif is Red’s muscle. If I want any chance in hell, I need to smooth things over with this feisty little thing.

“Up, boys. You passed out in the wrong room; time to go,” the curvy brunette intercedes, trying to mediate the awkward situation. If Red wasn’t in the picture, her curves would absolutely be on my radar, but they pale in comparison to who is standing next to her.

“I apologize, ladies. It was very late when we got home last night,” I say, trying to mend the strained introductions. “I was so worried about getting my friend Will to bed, that I didn’t check the room number, and it was so dark in the dorm, I didn’t notice the décor.”

The girls look to Will to back up my story–nope, they don’t trust me. I take no offense; I get that a lot. Will gives them a pathetic wave and smile, embarrassed by the situation. I just hope that he hasn’t pissed their bed, which would take this to a whole new level. “We really are sorry, girls; this was an honest mistake. I don’t even remember getting home. Are we at least on the ninth floor?” he asks.

His soft, easy tone lifts a weight off the girls, and I can see that we—well, at least, he–have been forgiven. The teddy bear strikes again; I knew I liked him for a reason.

“You’re in room 913,” Red pipes up, and I zero in on her. The sound of her voice is like a melody that I could never get tired of. It’s dripping with sweetness, and I want nothing more than to see if I can make it turn raspy.

I think for a minute about my home court rule and how willing I am to break it, but looking at Red once more, I bounce off the bed and stand before her. “Well, it looks like we are next door neighbors,” I tell her, leaning in close enough that I can catch a glimpse of her eyes again. “I guess we will get to know each other pretty well after all.” I whisper the last bit, tucking a piece of renegade hair behind her ear. I’m trying my damnedest to let her know that I’m more than interested, but she looks away from me and takes a step back like I’m shit on a shovel. I like a challenge, but fuck, throw me a bone, woman.

Will comes up behind me and slaps my back; I can hear his low rumble of a chuckle at my obvious rejection. “Looks like you’re barking up the wrong tree, Brooks. You may need to walk away while you still can.”

“I’d listen to the Hulk there, buddy. My girl Vivian is country, and you just never know what those country folks will do,” miniature bitchy girl says, crossing her arms across her chest like it’s some kind of threat. Yeah, okay, totally frightened, I think sarcastically.

I disregard everything that cunt-o-licious has to say, except for the one nugget of crucial information–Vivian, she told me Red’s name. It fits her perfectly. Vivian looks strong and warm, and I want to curl around her, feel every inch of her. The rest of it, well, it’s an empty threat. Country or not, Vivian could never hurt anyone, I know her kind; she’s as rare as they come. She’s not the type to cause hurt; she’s the type that gets hurt.

“Let us make it up to you,” I say, giving Vivian some space, but maintaining as much eye contact as she will allow, which isn’t much. “Let us walk you to the dining hall for breakfast, or let us take you girls out tonight. Since we’re neighbors and all, we might as well get to know each other. You never know when it will be handy to have guys right next door.” Yes, there is a double meaning in that, but from the eye rolls I receive from the mean one, and smiles from the other two, not everyone catches the hidden meaning.

“Thank you, but we have a girls’ day planned, and then we are going to Suite 152 to dance tonight,” Curves says. “I can’t imagine that you guys would like to dance, so maybe we can hang out some other time.”

“Fair enough,” Will agrees. The boy hates to dance, which is good since he barely has enough coordination to walk, but she left the door open for another invitation. Fuck, he needs some lessons in conversing with the opposite sex. At least he finishes introductions; I have to give him that. “This is my roommate Brooks, and I’m Will.”

“Nice to meet you,” Curves smiles. “I’m Carly; this is Jen,” she points to the short callous one. “And you met Vivian. We are still waiting on our fourth roommate to show up; her name is Campbell, but that’s all we know.”

“Well, it’s great to meet you all, even under such weird circumstances. We really are sorry if we scared you,” I say. “It would be great to hang out sometime; come over whenever you want.” I direct the last line towards Vivian, but she doesn’t even give me a second glance, which I’m not going to lie, hurts a little. I want her to notice me like the other girls do. I usually have to bat them away, and this girl couldn’t care less.

Will pushes me along, and we head toward their front door. We aren’t even completely in the hallway before Jen slams the door behind us. So glad I met her; she is one awesome gal. They may not have accepted our invitation right now, but I have every intention of being a thorn in their sides until I find an angle to get to Vivian. In one single meeting, it has become my mission of the semester to have this girl any way I can get her.

Vivian

Since Saturday morning, I have tried to avoid our new neighbors, but I swear Brooks is stalking me. I go to the vending machines in the front lobby, he’s there. I go to the basement laundry to wash my favorite jeans for dancing, and he’s there. I’m now sitting in my first class of the semester, English Composition, and guess who walks through the door? Yup, Brooks.

I know guys like him; Amanda is constantly dating boys who treat girls the way I’m sure he does. Who am I kidding? Amanda is Brooks’ female equivalent. They use people to get what they want, and then leave them heartbroken and clueless when their usefulness has expired. Brooks is no mystery; his goal is to sleep with anything and everything. He sees me as a number, a notch on his bedpost, and when he’s completed his challenge, he would throw me away like I was nothing. Well, he has targeted the wrong girl. No matter how unbelievably gorgeous he is. I can use images of him to take care of myself after Jen takes me to get my new special purple friend. I don’t need to experience the real thing, not if it means risking myself in the process.

Waves of students file into the classroom and I slouch down in my seat, looking down at my notebook, hoping that Brooks won’t see me and will walk right by. No such luck. He slides into the seat across the row and leans across the aisle to get my attention. I peer at him from the corner of my eye, hoping that maybe if I pay him no attention he’ll go away.

“Hey, Red,” he says, giving me his best smoldering grin.

I try to remain unaffected, but I am a girl after all. This is a guy whose looks demand attention. He walks into a room and everyone, girls and guys alike, takes notice. I never thought I would consider a man as beautiful, but Brooks truly is. His jet-black hair is just messy enough that it makes me want to run my fingers through it. His cerulean blue eyes are like never-ending pools that are perpetually inviting me to dive into them. Once I let my eyes roam though, it’s easy to notice the amazing physique that he has under his dark jeans and blue button-up shirt that somehow enhances the color of his eyes. It takes every bit of willpower not to melt like every other girl that passes his desk. The difference is those girls think he might fall in love with them and they would live happily ever after. I imagine that this semester many will find out the hard way that he has no interest in such emotional attachments. I know what I am to him, and I respectfully decline the opportunity, no matter how cute he is.