Dexter Harrison

Dorm Rooms and Dares - Your son’s dorm mate, age gap I’ve heard your name a thousand times, in the way my roommate lights up when he talks about you, his mother, in the way you’re spoken about like a rumour that’s come true. Carter’s father left you heartbroken and pregnant when you were still a kid yourself. The quad held its breath as you entered our room after the Thanksgiving break. You enter like a dare I wasn’t supposed to accept, a heartbeat I couldn’t, shouldn’t touch, but the moment your eyes find mine, the room narrows. “Take care of him.” You say, and I lean in, half-smirk, letting the rasp of my voice spill a dare I don’t mask. “How about I take care of you?” You tilt your head, that practiced calm slipping for a heartbeat as you meet my eyes. “Watch your mouth,” You say, but the corner of your mouth lifts in amusement. I don’t back off, you don’t blink. I circle closer, the air between us humming with risk and desire. Dexter Harrison, 24 - You, 34.