First Impressions

He's good looking--bright blue eyes, pale skin, full pink lips. There's something in his features that suggests Asian descent, maybe from his mom or grandparents.

Hell, he's gorgeous.

But the disgusted look he shoots me makes my stomach sink. I know that look. It's the kind that doesn't need words to warn you to stay far, far away.

"Did you even hear a word I said?"

Leanne's voice snaps me back to reality. Of course, I hadn't heard a thing.

I was too busy gawking at the guy who's definitely out of my league and straight. Definitely straight. So unfair.

"Uh..." I try to play it cool, my gaze drifting back to him before I can stop myself. He catches me looking this time before I even get a chance to check him out properly. He’s with a pretty redhead girl who’s bored out of her mind with her attention glued to her phone. I scoff under my breath.

Leanne turns to look behind her, catching my wandering eyes. She smirks knowingly as the waiter brings our orders.

"Oh, I see what's going on," she says with a grin.

I nearly roll my eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She arches an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "You've got the hots for Fox Wilder, huh?"

"What? No!" | almost choke on my coffee. "I don't even know who that is!

Leanne laughs. "Relax, I'm not judging. He's pretty hot—objectively speaking”

I push my glasses up my nose, trying to maintain some composure. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Lying. Totally lying.

I sigh, trying not to glance in Fox's direction again. What happened to the promise I made to myself? Stay away from jerks and hot guys. And yet, here I am, checking out a hot straight guy, fully aware of my weakness. The reality of being gay hits me hard.

"Trust me, you don't want to fall for Fox Wilder,” Leanne warns, taking a sip of her milkshake.

Fox Wilder?

My roommate’s name is Fox. Obviously there are many people on campus named Fox. This guy can’t possibly be my roommate.

Whoever this Fox Wilder is, I need to remind myself that I'm not interested.

He's just eye candy. But even as I think it, I know I'm lying to myself.

"Why's that?" I ask, taking a bite of pizza.

"He's one of the most popular guys in school. Hot, frat king, throws one of the biggest frat parties on campus, and practically every girl and guy wants to hook up with him."

Great. Another arrogant jerk who probably changes partners like he changes clothes.

"I'm not interested," I say firmly, hoping it sounds convincing this time. I finish chewing my pizza and down it with a gulp of coffee, feeling more exhausted by the second.

"So... you got a boyfriend?" Leanne asks casually, and I nearly spit out my coffee.

"Excuse me?"

She smirks, clearly enjoying my embarrassment. "Come on, you're cute as hell. I bet people fall all over you for that dimple alone."

I blush, feeling awkward. "Nobody wants to date this guy. People like assholes and I’m complicated. Plus, my parents...”

I trail off, wondering if I should open up about this to someone I just met.

Leanne leans in, her tone soft. "You can tell me. I'm your friend now, and I promise your secret is safe with me."

I take a deep breath. "They're homophobic. They think the LGBTQ+ community is responsible for, like, hurricanes and natural disasters."

Leanne snorts. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"Agreed. It's messed up," I reply, cringing as I remember. "In high school, I kind of outed myself by accident. Didn't think it through. I got bullied for it all through senior year."

"Let me guess—had a crush on a hot straight guy who turned out to be a jerk?" she asks.

I chuckle. "Pretty much."

"Guys are the worst. I've dealt with my share of jerks, too," she says, her voice trailing off as the bell on top of the café door rings.

Two more guys walk in, heading straight for Fox's booth. Both of them are just as good-looking. Fox greets them with a handshake, and they start whispering. One of them says something that makes Fox laugh—a sound so captivating, I feel like I could listen to it all day.

Leanne sighs, snapping me back to reality again. "You okay? You're looking kind of zoned out."

"Did you date one of those guys?" I ask, noticing her discomfort.

She winces. "Fooled around with one, yeah. Carter, the shorter one with the black hair and that cocky smirk. Total *ssh*l*."

I glance over at the group again. Carter is now flirting with the redhead and Fox is deep in conversation with the other guy—a dark brown-haired guy who’s also attractive and way out of my league.

Then, suddenly, Fox's gaze locks onto mine again, freezing me in place. His expression twists in disgust, like I'm something he scraped off his shoe. The guy sitting with him follows Fox's stare, and now they're both glaring at me.

"Look away, Cameron," I tell myself. "Look. Away."

But before I can, Fox sneers. "What the f*ck are you staring at?" his voice is loud, drawing everyone’s attention.

My heart stops. The café goes silent, and everyone—Leanne, the other customers, even Fox's friends—turns to look at me.

I can feel my face burning with humiliation, the kind that makes you wish the ground would swallow you whole. Fox mutters something else under his breath but I can't make it out.

“Yeah, look away, you little sh*t,” Fox yells.

I just need to get out of here.

"You wanna go?" Leanne asks softly.

"Yeah," I whisper.

We stand up, leaving behind our half-finished drinks and food. As we walk out, I can feel Fox's eyes burning holes into my back.

***

It's almost 10 p.m., and my roommate still hasn't shown up. I've had dinner, studied, and now my mind keeps drifting back to Fox Wilder. He's every bit as good-looking as I thought, but that attitude? Absolutely disgusting.

As I half-heartedly review my notes from today's lectures, I hear the front door open. My head snaps up—maybe that's him. My roommate.

I wait, listening to the sounds of shuffling and the door closing. Should I introduce myself? I don't want him to freak out, thinking there's a stranger in his apartment.

Throwing on a T-shirt and running my fingers through my curls, I head down the hall toward the living room. The lights are off, but I hear movement in the kitchen. The fridge door is open, casting a dim glow.

"Hey, man," I call out, trying to sound friendly.

"Sh*t!" comes the startled reply.

The fridge door slams shut. "Who the f*ck are you?"

That voice. Why does it sound familiar?

I flick the light switch by the door and the kitchen floods with brightness.

No. No way. This cannot be happening.

Standing in front of me, holding a carton of milk, is none other than Fox Wilder.

And he's my roommate.