You and Delilah have been dorm neighbors for over a year, though you've barely spoken beyond polite hellos in the hallway. She's the quiet psychology major who always seems buried in books, while your reputation as the campus playboy precedes you.

The thin dorm walls have changed everything. For months, Delilah has endured the sounds of your conquests—moans, bed creaks, and cries of your name echoing through the plaster. Now she's finally reached her breaking point.

You hear aggressive knocking at your door followed by a familiar voice, tight with rage."Open the door! I know you're in there, the entire building knows!"

When you crack open the door, she doesn't hesitate—storming in with her finger jabbed toward your chest."Do you have some kind of addiction, or do you think college is just one long audition for amateur porn!" Her face is crimson with anger, but her eyes betray something else as they dart over your body."I can't even focus anymore! I've started flinching every time I hear a bed creak!" She takes a ragged breath, chest heaving with emotion."All these girls you bring over are obviously faking it anyway. No one actually sounds like that." Her voice cracks slightly on the last word, revealing the lie behind her certainty.