Stranded
Going back to the room, a little sad, Rose told her roommates, "So turns out someone else is supposed to be here." Her roommates frowned, their disappointment palpable—maybe because, in such a short time, a small connection had already formed between them. They tried to think of ways for her to stay, but it was no use. She had to leave. But where?
Then, a call from the office: "There's space in the other hostel."
Grateful, Rose went to check it out—only to find broken furniture, dust thick enough to write in, and stains that told stories she didn't want to hear.
"What is this? Nah, why is this place—" Disgust twisted her face.
"Which animals lived here? This can't have been a person." She sighed, arms crossed.
"Air Force School doesn't clean, but it's not their fault which pigs stayed here before. What am I going to do? I'm not cleaning this."
"Hey."
A voice, low and smooth, came from the corner—almost like a drug dealer's whisper. Rose turned to see a figure half-hidden in shadow.
"Need a clean room?" the person murmured.
Rose's mind raced. Um, obviously. But sure, you won't kidnap me? There are stones on the ground—I could throw one if things go south. If there's a gun involved, though… what if she plants a bomb?
Before she could spiral further, the stranger pulled down her hood, revealing a face so striking Rose's breath hitched.
"Do you want someone to clean your room, or are you just lost in thought?" The girl smirked, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
Rose's pulse quickened. She's beautiful. Jet-black locs framed light brown skin, glowing under the dim hallway light. Her body was a work of art—curves in all the right places, her fitted shirt hugging her waist, her hips swaying slightly as she shifted her weight. I should say something.
"Yes, I do," Rose finally managed.
"Cool, I'll help you," the girl said.
"You'll help? How?" Rose asked, skeptical but intrigued.
"Yeah, I will. Name's Carl. And yours?"
"Rose. The name is Rose… um."
Carl chuckled.
"Yeah, my name's kinda like a guy's. Parents were… creative. Gotten me into some embarrassing situations."
"Even if it's embarrassing, they'd just have to apologize," Rose blurted. "Because you're so gorgeous. Like, damn, girl."
Did I just say that out loud? Rose panicked internally. She'll think I'm weird. Or… maybe she's into that? Do girls dig confidence? I sound like a gay person. But I can't blame her if she thinks I'm flirting—look at her.
Carl's scent—lavender and something sweet, like fresh petals—drifted between them. Her locs were thick, perfectly coiled, cascading over her shoulders with effortless boldness. And her body… God, her body. The way her shirt dipped just enough to hint at soft, perky breasts, the curve of her waist begging to be touched.
"Earth to Rose?" Carl waved a hand. "Been trying to get your attention. And… thanks for calling me beautiful. Kinda needed to hear that."
Rose swallowed. Her boobs are right there. So close. Perfectly shaped—not too big, not too small—just full, inviting. The way they rise with each breath, the soft swell beneath her top…
"You're welcome," Rose said, forcing herself to focus. "Anytime you need to hear it, I'll tell you. But I'd need your number for that."
Carl laughed, a sound like honey. "That was smooth. Coming from such a drop-dead gorgeous girl, I might just… just…"
"Gorgeous? Please. You haven't seen yourself in a mirror. Your boyfriend must be damn lucky."
"Rose," Carl said, tucking a loc behind her ear, her chest lifting slightly—was she doing that on purpose?—"I'm single."
Why do I feel like she's trying to seduce me? Or am I overthinking? Rose's skin prickled with heat.
"Wow, that's shocking. Um… what about the room?"
"Right. Let's check it out. I'll be your escort." Carl's fingers brushed Rose's hand before interlacing with hers, pulling her close enough that her breasts pressed lightly against Rose's arm. A jolt shot through Rose's body.
The room was, as expected, a dump—dusty, cobwebbed, reeking of neglect.
"My friend can clean it for 1K, but it's bad," Carl admitted.
"I don't know… maybe—"
A shadow darted across the floor.
"Rat!" Carl shrieked, leaping onto Rose, arms locking around her waist.
Rose should've been terrified, but the moment Carl's body molded against hers, fear melted into something else. She smells like lavender. And her skin—so soft, so warm. Like sunlight and silk.
"You don't seem scared. Pro?" Carl teased, still clinging to her.
"No, I am. You just… calmed me down."
Carl smiled, her bunny teeth peeking out, canines sharp and charming. "I can't let you stay here tonight. Wanna crash in my room?"
"I don't want to stress you—" Another skittering noise. "—but yes. Please."
"Let's go, then. To my humble room, your majesty."
"Majesty?" Rose laughed, Carl joining in.
But when they reached Carl's door, it was locked.
"Roommate must've left with the key," Carl groaned. "Sorry."
"It's fine. We can wait." Rose leaned on the balcony, watching the moonlight spill over the school, with a breezy smile. The breeze played with her hair as Carl sidled up beside her, their shoulders touching.
"she looks like hope," Carl thought
For a moment, everything was peaceful.
Then—
"Carl, what are you doing outside?!" her roommate shouted.
"Like, omg, I just stood out here for three hours smiling at nothing?!" Carl groaned.
"Sorry! I didn't know you'd be back. I'm not staying tonight."
"You're not?" A smirk curled Carl's lips. "Just give me the key, then."
Inside, Rose flopped onto Carl's bed. This feels… weird. What do I do? She grabbed her phone, distracting herself.
Carl disappeared into the bathroom. When she returned, she was wrapped in a towel—just a towel—and Rose's throat went dry.
Why did she just strip in front of me? This is uncomfortable… but also… not. If she threw herself at me, would I stop her?
Carl dropped the towel.
Rose's mind short-circuited. Every inch of her is—God. Smooth brown skin, curves like a Renaissance painting. Her breasts, full and round, nipples peaked in the cool air. Her waist dips in, then flares out to hips made for gripping. And lower—
"You like what you see?" Carl cupped her own breasts, squeezing lightly.
"Huh?" Rose's voice cracked.
"My friends say they'd fuck me if they were guys."
Rose's face burned. "Uh-huh."
"Anyway, your room will be ready tomorrow. We should sleep."
Carl climbed into bed—the same bed—her bare leg brushing Rose's.
"We're sharing?" Rose squeaked.
"Yeah. Roommate doesn't like people on her bed, and the others aren't here."
Hours passed in a haze of whispered conversations, stolen glances, and the electric charge of something neither dared name. Then—Carl fell asleep.
Rose stared at the ceiling. What if something happens? What if we—
Carl stirred. Suddenly, her hand grabbed Rose's, guiding it to her bare breast—soft, warm, perfect. At the same time, Carl's fingers found Rose's chest, squeezing gently.
Their eyes locked. Questions burned between them—Is this happening? Do you want this?
Carl's lips parted. "Rose—"
A knock at the door shattered the moment.