Prologue
Logan
August— Sophomore Year
I’m going to fucking kill him.
The thought has run through my mind countless times over the past year of rooming with Camden Steele, so realistically, I shouldn’t be surprised he’s already on my last nerve. He might be the only idiot jock left in this house—a massive improvement from the four, sometimesfive,I lived with last year—but he’s clearly still up to his same old fuckery.
Just in the past week since the new semester has started, he’s brought home two different girls—plus a guy I recognize from my art seminar—he’s woken me up with his blaring alarm only a couple hours after I’ve gone to bed, and has left the bathroom floor soaking wet after showering.
Though, come to think of it, the last one could definitely be Bailey’s doing.
But what I know for certainisn’tBailey? The music currently blasting through our shared wall. Which would be annoying at any point of the day, but it’s especially irritating while I’m trying to get ahead on the reading assigned for a couple classes.
Gritting my teeth, I grab my noise-cancelling headphones and slide them on, hoping like hell my own music can drown out the noise of his.
I mean, honestly. Is that…Taylor Swift?
Unfortunately, even with “Loser” blaring in my ears, it’s not enough to stop Camden from being a distraction. I mean, he’s got the volume turned up enough to vibrate my goddamn bedframe while I’m sitting on it.
With an irritated huff, I pound on the wall a couple times, hoping it might give him the hint to turn down the music. Of course, that would require my roommate to use his brain and actuallythink,which is a rather rare occurrence.
Exhibit A being the music still pounding and thumping from the other side of the wall.
My fist collides with the drywall again, but I shout through it too, thinking if I spell it out for him, it might yield better results.
“Jesus Christ, Camden! Can you turn down the goddamn music?”
But just like the first time, there’s no change in volume.
Ripping my headphones off, I toss them down beside me and shove off the mattress. It takes me all of three seconds to get to his door down the hall, and my fist collides with the wood hard enough, I’m surprised it doesn’t splinter.
“I swear on your life, if you don’t shut that shit off, I’ll come in there and do it myself!”
Nothing. No change. No fucking consideration.
“You asked for it,” I mutter under my breath.
Hand around the knob, I shove open the door in a fit of fury, storming into his room with the intention of reaming him a new asshole. But in the haze of irritation, I fail to notice justwhatI’m walking in on. Though, even in the calmest state of mind, I don’t think my brain would be able to process the sight of Camden naked, rock hard, and wall-twerking to “Shake It Off.”
For a split second, I’m too stunned to speak.
Hell, I’m too dumbstruck to do much more than gape at the scene before me, not sure if I’m in some kind of fever-dream-turned-sex-nightmare starring the single-most idiotic person I’ve ever met. Because there’s no way this isactuallyhappening. I’m sure to wake up any second—likely in a cold sweat—and realize none of it was real.
My brain is still lagging when he drops his feet down from the wall, the lush, round globes of his ass greeting my gaze. It’s only when he turns enough for me to catch a frontal glimpse, finding him doing the goddamn helicopter with his dick, I’m snapped back to reality.
“What the fuck are youdoing?” I shout.
Somehow, he hears my exclamation over the thumping music—louder than it would be in a nightclub—and turns all the way to face me. Unfortunately, that also means his erect dick-copter is now aimed right at me, making it almost impossible tonotlook.
“Oh, hey,” he calls back over the music. “I, uh, I lost a bet.”
And all the while, he’s still. Fucking. Twirling.
“Jesus Christ!” I finally find enough common sense to cover my eyes with one hand, using the other to motion toward him. “Why are you twirling that thing like a goddamn baton?”
A few seconds pass before the music cuts. I can finally hear myself think, but for some reason, my brain equates being able to hear with it being safe to see.
