Joren walked like he was trying to outrun his reality.
The campus was quiet—so much so that he could hear his thoughts louder. His hoodie was up, his hands buried in his pockets, and his earbuds were in, but no music played. He didn't want distraction. He wanted distance.
The coffee shop scene replayed in his head. Zuri's voice. Her question. The way she'd looked at him. His face still burned with shame.
He passed a group of students sitting on the grass, laughing about something he couldn't hear, his mind still reeling from what had happened earlier.
He kept walking.
Then he heard his name.
"Joren!"
He froze.
His heart jumped. For a split second, he thought it was Zuri. Or worse—one of the gossip crowd, ready to corner him, to ask questions they already thought they knew the answers to.
He turned slowly.
It was Tasha.
She stood a few feet away, her phone in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of her cropped jacket. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes were sharp—always sharp.
Joren blinked. "What are you doing around here?"
Tasha tilted her head, one brow raised. "Am I not allowed to walk wherever I want?"
He nodded, unsure of what to say next. He thought of explaining the look on his face, the weight he was carrying—but decided against it. She didn't ask, and he didn't want to bother her with his life problems.
She stepped closer, her boots crunching lightly against the gravel path. "You look like you just got heartbroken."
Joren gave a weak smile. "Something like that."
Tasha didn't press. She never did. That was part of her charm. She knew when to lean in and when to let silence do the work.
"Walk me to my place?" she asked.
Joren hesitated. He wasn't in the mood. Not for company. Not for small talk. But before he could decline, she hooked her arm through his and started walking.
"You need to get rid of that cloud over your head," she said. "I've got just the thing."
He didn't argue. He just walked.
The path to her dorm was long enough to feel like a transition. They passed the library, where students sat on the steps scrolling through their phones, and continued down to the dorms. They walked silently, though it wasn't an awkward one.
Then, after a while, Tasha finally broke the silence.
"So, what's got you all riled up like this?"
Joren sighed. "It's... complicated."
"Let me guess," she continued. "You said something dumb to a girl."
Joren raised an eyebrow. "You always assume it's about a girl?"
Tasha smirked. "It's college. It's always about a girl."
He chuckled, but it faded quickly. "It's not just that."
She didn't press. Just walked beside him, her presence steady.
"You ever have one of those days," Joren muttered, "where everything feels upside-down?"
Tasha didn't miss a beat. "Every Tuesday."
He gave a weak laugh, but she kept going.
"But that's not the point," she said. "The point is, you've got to learn to let things go. Whatever it is—it already happened."
Joren exhaled. "Easy for you to say."
Tasha shrugged. "Not really. I've been through worse. You learn to live with it. Or at least walk with it without tripping."
They reached her dorm and went up the flight. Her room was on the second floor. As they climbed the stairs, Joren felt the weight in his chest lightening.
They arrived at her door, and she brought out her key, unlocked the door, and held it open for him. He stepped inside—and stopped.
The room smelled faintly of lavender and cheap air freshener, but that wasn't what his attention was on.
Someone was sitting on the bed. A girl, wrapped in a towel that could barely contain her large breasts, clearly fresh out of the shower. Her hands were on her mounds, roaming like she was trying to make them smaller by squeezing them.
Her posture stiffened the moment she saw him. Her hands instinctively moved to cover herself, a blush creeping down her neck.
Joren's eyes widened. "Uh… who's that?"
Tasha smirked. "My roommate."
The girl shot her a look. "Don't tell him my name."
Tasha ignored her. "Jenny."
Jenny groaned. "Seriously?"
Joren glanced away, trying to be respectful, but the awkwardness was already thick in the room.
Tasha motioned to her bed. "Sit. I'll grab us something to drink."
Joren hesitated. "You don't have to—"
"I'll be right back," she said, already halfway out the door. "Just a few rooms down."
And then she was gone.
Joren sat, stiff as a board, unsure where to look. Jenny looked like she was about to combust. Her face was beet red.
He cleared his throat. "So, do you... want to introduce yourself properly?"
Jenny's eyes narrowed. "Why were you looking at me earlier?"
Joren blinked. "I wasn't—I mean, I didn't mean to."
"Don't you have any decency?"
The words hit harder than expected. His mind flashed back to Zuri. The café. The question. Are you a pervert?
"I'm sorry," he said quickly, eyes dropping to the floor. "I didn't mean anything by it."
Jenny studied him for a moment, then huffed and stood. She walked to her wardrobe, back turned, and began picking out clothes. Her towel had ridden up, and her ass was now visible, along with a small part of her pink pussy
Joren tried not to look. He really did.
But his eyes drifted—unintentionally—and caught a glimpse of her divine entrance. It looked so tight. So pink. Like it was begging him to come ravage it. He looked away immediately, heart thudding, shame rising again (though that wasn't the only thing rising...).
Jenny turned, clothes in hand, and her eyes caught it—the outline of his erection on his pants.
She froze, her lips parting, thighs pressed together as if to try and hide the heat between them.
Joren opened his mouth to explain, to apologize again—
Then the door opened.