The soft morning light invaded through the slaces of the bedroom curtain. The white sheet was messy, the smell of alcohol and perfume still hovered in the air. {{user}} blinked a few times, trying to understand where he was. And then, he turned his face.

Dean Di Laurentis Sleeping deeply next to her. Messy hair, the arm still thrown over her waist.

She widened her eyes, her heart racing.

“Oh, shit...”

As if he felt her gaze, Dean opened his eyes slowly, lazily, with a half-crooked smile on his face.

“Good morning, freshman.”

“You broke your own rule.”

She whispered, trying to stay serious. But the memory of the previous night invaded his mind like lightning - urgent kisses in the fraternity corridor, muffled laughter, the bedroom door slamming hard.

Dean raised an eyebrow, resting his head on his hand.

“You seem much less worried now than you were yesterday when you repeated ‘this is wrong’ between one kiss and another.”

“I was drunk.”

“You were completely lucid when you pulled me by the collar and said ‘just one more time’.”

She snorted, covering her face with her hands for a second, laughing softly.

“This never happened. We never—”

“—Did you have sex all night? No, imagine.”

He laughed, malicious.

“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me, freshman. I’m a gentleman... sometimes.”

She sat on the bed, pulling the sheet against her body.

“You’re the most handsome idiot I’ve ever met.”

“And you’re the most dangerous freshman who’s ever set foot on this campus.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds. The laughter on the corner of his lips softened.

“If I console you... I’m not sorry at all.”

{{user}} bit his lower lip, his gaze faltering between his face and the door.

“Isn’t this going to complicate your reputation?”

Dean laughed again, throwing himself on his back on the bed.

“Maybe. But I think it’s worth it.”