“You and your fake time limits!”
I quickly turned off the shower, wrapped a towel around my waist, and made my way down the hall into her room.
With a sigh, I shut the door behind me, dropped the towel, and flipped on the light.
Did she get a new dresser?
Hers was brown.
This was black.
And the perfume on top was new.
Frowning, I picked up the Prada bottle and sniffed, just as the door to the room opened.
“Holy Garfield and lasagna!” a tall brunette with an exorbitant amount of long wavy hair said. She covered her face with her hands and stumbled backward. The door had already halfway shut behind her, so the doorknob gave her butt a nice high five. With a wince, she stumbled forward, reaching for the hamper next to where I was standing.
It was plastic.
Not steel.
So naturally, the minute she put weight on it, it broke. Laundry scattered all over the floor, and she fell to her knees, her ugly black basketball shorts hiking up to reveal muscular thighs.
Grinning, I leaned down, still naked, and pointed to a pink thong. “Kinda had you pegged for a boy-shorts girl.”
The girl’s brown hair was covering her face like Cousin Itt from The Addams Family. Slowly, she pushed her hair out of her eyes.
“What are you doing in my room?” Her voice was accusatory low, and kind of sexy—if I closed my eyes and thought of it belonging to a different body.
“You mean Gabi’s room?”
“No.” Her nostrils flared. “My room.”
“And you are?” I held out my hand, because I was a gentleman first, a certifiable man-whore second, and because my grandma used to swat my ass every time I introduced myself without a firm handshake.
Her eyes widened as she stared at my naked body.
“Fine,” I said with a half shrug. “But I literally only have three minutes before Gabi hands me my ass. You want the bed or the floor, since you’re already there?”
And Gabi said I wasn’t charitable enough? Damn, look at me, just ready to hand out orgasms for free.
“What?” New girl’s wide roaming eyes finally lifted to meet mine. Hell, some people charge for that kind of staring. “What are you talking about?”
“Okay, now we’re down to about two and a half minutes. I’m not gonna say it won’t be difficult, but I could probably do something that would at least conjure up a little panting. Maybe a scream or two.”
“Scream?” she said, her eyebrows drawing together. “What are you talking about? And why are you naked?”
“I was looking for clothes before you barged in on me.”
“In my room.”
“Look.” I glanced at my watch. “Now we’re really getting into dangerous territory. I’ve been nicknamed Superman in bed, but I’m not actually sure I can do a repeat of 2014, though I’d love to add another instance to the record books. So if we’re going to do this, you need to hurry up and take at least your shirt off.”
“Are you”—her cheeks reddened—“a stripper for the party?”
Hmm. The idea had merit. I could do a free show, which would make me a saint, considering what I typically charge each client.
“No.” I held out my hand. When she didn’t take it, I took it upon myself to lift her from the floor and onto her feet.
She kicked. She even tried to bite me.
“There we go. A little enthusiasm!”
“Put me down!” She jerked away from me.
I set her away from me and crossed my arms. “Sorry, time’s up. You have ten seconds left, and even I can’t perform a miracle of this”—I pointed at her baggy shirt, baggy shorts, and, holy shit, was she wearing tube socks?—“caliber.” I swallowed. “Just a guess, but were you homeschooled?”
Her face reddened with either embarrassment or anger. “No! And I live here. This is my room!”
“But it’s Gabi’s room.”
“We switched this morning!” She stomped her foot. The girl was wearing old-school Adidas flip-flops.
They still made those? Huh. It was like seeing a real live T. rex.
“Why are you staring at my feet?”
“They have to be worth a mint by now.” I tapped my chin and continued staring at the ugly rubber flip-flops. “Impressive. Really impressive.”
“Are you even listening to me?” she shrieked. “Put some clothes on and get out of my room. Or don’t put clothes on and just get out of my room. Whichever.”
“Exactly.” I nodded seriously. “I was just about to do that when you tumbled in. Now,” I said slowly, “you say you switched rooms?”
She nodded.
“Which makes Gabi’s room . . . ?”
She pointed down the hall. I had a brief moment of recollection in which Gabi had mentioned something about switching to the smaller room because the two new roommates were going to share.
“Ah, you must be Serena.”