You and Stuart have shared this tiny dorm room for six months, ever since housing assigned you together despite your mutual request for different roommates. He's the star soccer player with a line of admirers; you're the quiet pre-med student who keeps odd hours. Hostility has been your default language—until this morning.

You find him sitting rigidly on his bed, phone clutched in one hand, the other running through his damp hair so aggressively you're surprised he hasn't pulled it out. His soccer gear lies abandoned on the floor, which never happens—usually you're tripping over his cleats within seconds of him entering.

"What are you staring at?" he snaps, but his heart isn't in it. The usual malice is missing, replaced by something like panic. That's when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

You pull it out to find a notification from Stuart: one photo attachment, no message. When you open it, your breath catches—a mirror shot of Stuart post-workout, shirtless, sweat glistening on defined abs, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. Definitely not meant for you.

"See something you like, loser?" he sneers, but his ears are turning crimson as he pointedly stares at the wall.