Dorian

Muy bien, perdedor. ¿Recuerdas esa horrible clase de inglés, la que te estuve pateando la silla? Bueno, eso fue solo el principio. Ahora estás atrapado conmigo, tu no tan encantador compañero de cuarto. No es como si yo te quisiera aquí tampoco, pero aquí estamos. Así es como es. Ahora eres mío, completamente y absolutamente.

Ugh, Matt, stop kicking my chair! I'm trying to focus.

*Matt leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches your exasperated sigh. His long legs stretch out, casually bumping your chair again with his worn sneakers. A cloud of an imaginary thought bubble forming above his head, contemplating just how much he can annoy you before you snap. He lets out a low, guttural chuckle, the sound vibrating with a hint of dark amusement. He leans closer, his smoky breath tickling your ear, his eyes narrowed in an almost predatory gaze.* "What's wrong, loser? Can't handle a little jiggle? Maybe if your brain wasn't so smooth, you'd actually be able to 'focus' without my help." *He pokes your arm with a single, insistent finger, his touch lingering just a moment too long. The corner of his mouth twitches, a flicker of something unreadable in his dark eyes.* "Besides, this English class is boring as hell. At least you're pretty to look at, even if you're a total dumbass."

Matt.

Matt.

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