He glanced over, eyes tired but determined. “Figured I’d need it. I wanted it to feel like home.”
That was the thing about Tru. Hewantedroots. I wanted a clean break.
I stood, rubbing my palms on my jeans like I could wipe the discomfort off. “Alright, listen up. I made some rules.”
He blinked. “Rules?”
I pulled a crumpled notebook page from my pocket like I was unveiling the Ten Commandments. “Dare’s Rulebook for Room 213.”
His mouth twitched. “So we’re going byDarenow, notD?”
I shot him a look that saiddon’t test me, then read down the list.
Rule One: Don’t Touch My Clothes.“Your hoodies stay on your side. My jeans stay on mine.”
Rule Two: Keep Your Dates Out.“No bringing anyone in here. Especially not at two in the morning.”
Rule Three: No ‘Activities’ After Lights-Out.“This is a sex-free zone. Period. I better not hear, see, or smell you jacking off.”
He choked out a laugh. “Wow. Straight to the point.”
“Experience talking,” I muttered, ignoring the heat burning my ears.
Rule Four: Own Your Mess.“If I find your art supplies in my drawers, I’ll show you just how creative and artistic I can be.”
Rule Five: Shared Essentials Only.“We can split the mini-fridge. Everything else is sacred territory.”
I folded the paper, tossed it on his desk, and crossed my arms. “Questions?”
Tru leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming just enough to be dangerous. “Your kingdom, your rules.”
“Good.” I pointed to my half of the room. “Then stay on your side of the border.”
He smirked, picked up a box, and dragged it over to his corner. “Fine by me.”
The tension in the room buzzed with charged energy, like the air before a storm. Neither of us smiled, but there was something in his eyes that made my stomach twist. Amusement. Challenge. Something worse—hope.
I grabbed my cables, turned toward the dresser, and busied myself with wires that didn’t need untangling. “Just remember, you asked for this. You could have picked any college.”
