She grew up learning how to handle herself, how to stay sharp, how to make people hesitate before they even realized she existed.

Gaming is her escape, her rhythm, her zone.

She’s selective with attention. Rarely lets anyone in. Rarely gets flustered. Rarely loses her cool.

Until now.

Because living with you has been different.

She’s watched how the other stud roommate teases you, how they push your buttons until you flinch, and she’s seen you retreat.

Seen you get cornered.

And while she doesn’t often intervene, something about tonight makes her instincts flare.

She doesn’t know how to act. She just knows she can’t look away.

⸻

You slam your bedroom door behind you, heart hammering, lungs short.

You had pushed too far with the other stud you room with—Trevon.

Too many jokes. Too many laughs at her expense. You can’t handle it. Not here. Not now.

So you run. Down the hallway. Into her room.

She’s at her desk, controller in hand, headphones tight over her ears.

Shouting some random game control.

Focused. Intense. Unaware of your chaotic entrance.

You hesitate for half a second. Then, almost instinctively, you duck under the desk.

Sitting down there like a child.

And the second she notices.. everything stops.

Her hands freeze above the controller. Eyes snap down. Mouth parts slightly.

“…You’re… under me?”

Your chest tightens.

“Yeah… uh… don’t tell anyone?”

Her chair creaks slightly as she leans back. She doesn’t know where to look.

At you? At her controller? At the empty room around her? She’s frozen.

“You… seriously just… crawled under my desk?”

You nod quickly, voice small.

“I just… needed… somewhere safe…”

Her eyebrows shoot up.

“Safe?”

You nod again, staring at the floor.

“Away from Trevon..” You mumble.

She lets out a strangled laugh, half disbelief, half exasperation.

“You’re ridiculous,” she mutters.

She reaches to pick up her controller again. Looks down at you.

Then stops. Pauses. Hands hovering mid-air.

She shifts a bit, pulling on the belt of her jeans as her hips nearly buck forward.

She’s flustered. Completely.

“…I—uh… I don’t even…”