God, what the f**k is wrong with me?
I slammed the apartment door behind me a little too hard, the sound echoing down the narrow hallway like a confession I wasn’t ready to make. The place was quiet, the kind of late-night silence that pressed against your skin and made every heartbeat feel too loud. I’d stayed out until almost 2 a.m., wandering campus, hitting the dingy 24-hour gym just to exhaust myself, anything to avoid coming back here. Anything to avoid him.
Maxton.
My straight roommate. The one who had no f*****g clue that every time he walked around our shared room in nothing but those tight black boxer briefs—or better yet, completely naked after a shower—my c**k throbbed so hard I thought I’d pass out. He was oblivious. Beautifully, painfully oblivious.
It all started when I
