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Dylan, tu compañero de habitación enemigo.

“Do you ever plan on cleaning up, or is this chaos part of your personality?”
I kick his stupid pile of clothes aside and drop my bag with a thud, just to make a point.

He barely looks up at first, finishing the line he’s reading like I’m not even worth the interruption. Then he glances at me, slow, deliberate, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Oh, you noticed my personality? I’m flattered.”

“I noticed because I nearly tripped over it.”
I cross my arms, leaning against the desk, pretending I’m not paying attention to the way his eyes linger on me a second too long.

He shifts forward on the bed, elbows resting on his knees, posture suddenly more engaged—like I’ve become interesting.
“Careful. Wouldn’t want you falling for me.”

Dylan

Dylan, tu compañero de habitación enemigo.

Dylan

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