Page 4 of Stay Toxic

Gasping, I decide to end the pointless, inappropriate conversation, and actually walk into my room, ignoring him entirely. I just can’t deal with him. What does one even say to that?

Especially given the fact that…I was watching his cock. I’ve only seen Rob’s, and let’s just say, they don’t even compare.

I force my mind to firmly shove all thoughts of the overlarge shaft behind me as I take in the space in front of me.

It’s nice. Considerably more spacious than the dorms at the academy I attended for high school. My room at home is certainly larger than this, but not more pleasant. It’s pink and frilly and decorated as if I were still playing with Barbies. Which I am definitely not. This pale, mature space is a welcome change.

I finally chuck my duffle bags next to the small double bed, rolling my shoulders, before setting my suitcase at the foot of the bed.

It’s late and I’m beat, so unpacking will have to wait.

Thankfully, the college provided linens, neatly folded on top of my bed, and I proceed to make it, pointedly ignoring the man still standing where I left him, in front of the open door.

I should have shut it behind me.

It’s unsettling, having a guy—a handsome guy whose name I don’t even know—here, while I make my bed.

I’m struggling with the last corner of the fitted sheet—it’s tight, and a third corner keeps popping up whenever I manage to tuck it under the mattress—when I hear footsteps. I make myself ignore them.

“So, what’s your name, pervert?”

I ignore himharder.Mostly because I don’t know how to deal with him. It’s not like I don’t like this flirting, I’ve just never experienced anything like it, and I have no idea how to respond.

“If you don’t tell me, pervert is gonna stick, you know. You’ll only have yourself to blame.”

I groan. He’s definitely a frequent visitor to the room, as my roommate is happy leaving him alone in her space while she hogs the shower. Should he make good on his threat, it’ll quickly get on my nerves.

“It’s Hestia, if you must know,” I say primly.

I never, ever introduce myself as Hestia. Because it’s astupidname. But somehow, this guy’s making me nervous and awkward and yes, in my case, that translates as an unbearably formal, high-strung,prissytone.

“Tia for short. What’syourname?”

“Something almost as pretentious as Hestia,” he replies, grabbing hold of the corner that’s threatening to give, and yanking it into place. “You can call me Sebastian.”

“Now I’m curious,” I admit. “I cancall youSebastian, but that’s not your name?”

He shrugs. “Middle name.”

“Ah. And what’s the pretentious first name?”

He snorts. “I don’t think we’re at that level of acquaintance yet, Hestia. Let’s just say I’m considering suing my parents over it.”

I’m disconcerted by the fact that a man quite as handsome and rude and lewd can also be funny. And cute.

Keeping my eyes on my pillowcase, so I don’t lose my voice again, I say, without thinking, “If I sued my mother for something, it wouldn’t be my name.”

He sits on the bed. “Ah. Mommy issues.”

I wince. That’s putting it mildly, but I don’t need to confess my deepest, darkest secrets to that perfect stranger.

I toss the pillow on the side he’s not sitting on. “I’m going to sleep now. Nice meeting you, Sebastian.”

His eyebrows hike up an inch. “Dismissing me?”

“Well, yes.” I’m exhausted after the last forty-eight hours. If my roommate feels like entertaining him and whoever Roman is, it’s her business, but she can do it on her side of the room.

Sebastian doesn’t budge, and I decide to resort to my first technique: pretending he isn’t there.