Room Mated: Standalone Reverse Harem Romance

Jude held the door open on the sixth floor. I strode through and we waited for Parker. He was a few years younger than us, but we’d all started graduate school last year. Back then, he’d been like an eager puppy nipping at our heels. Now he was still like a puppy, only a sad, downtrodden one. I didn’t have a steady girlfriend—no time for one—but if I did, I hoped I’d take it better if she dumped me.

Not that a woman had ever dumped me.

Jude unlocked the door and paused. The hall light was on, and I was pretty sure it hadn’t been when we left. “Kyle?” he said.

No way was I going to stand here hovering at the door. If the dude was here, he knew there were three more of us coming. Hell, the suite had space for twice that many—that’s why I’d worked so damn hard to get it.

I marched into the suite and glanced in the bedroom. Three bunks were empty—one wasn’t. Shit, did we get a roommate who went to bed before seven p.m.? Maybe he really was Amish.

Jude poked his head in the door of the bedroom, but I went all the way inside, determined to meet the man we’d be rooming with for the semester.

The dude was curled up in a large blanket like he was a burrito. He was—

Shit.

I paused a couple feet from the bed, staring down at the figure sleeping on it. Jude appeared by my side, and Parker trailed in after us. Even he let out a breath of surprise, and I was glad he was alert enough to see what was going on.

“Well… guess our new roommate’s not a prick,” Jude said.

“And doesn’t have one, either.” The light from the hall illuminated the face of our sleeping bunkmate. I’d pictured some guy Parker’s age with maybe a five o’clock shadow by this time of the day.

Instead, the sleeping figure had clear skin, dark eyelashes, pink lips, and shoulder-length hair.

And she was definitely not a dude.

What the actual fuck?

3

Kylie

My dream was bizarre, as most of my dreams were. It featured my friend Sierra, an actress. She kept telling me that I’d have to translate her new movie into different languages. I protested that I didn’t know any other languages, but she said I had to anyway.

Then my friend Ronnie appeared. She said she could translate the movie into Spanish, but I’d have to do all the other languages. Even though I knew it was a dream, it was still stressing me out.

I was still protesting that I only knew English when the dream shifted. Suddenly, I was in bed, but I didn’t know where. Then three men appeared. Three very handsome men. The panic about the movie translation faded as I took them in. I grinned, hoping against hope that this was going to be a sex dream. I didn’t have them often, but when I did—wow. They felt amazing.

“Who are you?” I asked the one closest to me. He had closely cropped hair and the most amazing blue eyes. I didn’t think I’d ever seen eyes that blue before. Behind him was a tall, dark, and handsome guy with a sexy little beard. Next to him was another dark-haired guy, and he was definitely a cutie, too.

God, this was shaping up to be the best dream ever.

Mr. Blue Eyes was saying something, but I couldn’t focus. I was too busy looking from one man to the next. Why were they just standing there? It was my dream, and I wanted them next to me on the bed.

Maybe I had to take the initiative? Reaching a finger out, I lightly stroked the forearm of Mr. Blue Eyes. He looked down to where my finger brushed his bare skin and then back at me. My fingers fastened on the edge of his olive-green t-shirt and tugged. He crouched down next to me, and I pushed myself up with my free hand, my gaze focused on his lips.

He stared at me as I reached out and touched his cheek above his sexy stubble. Then I slid my hand along his short hair to cup the back of his neck. I pulled him to me for a kiss.

That’s when the light went on.

Blinking rapidly, I realized where I was—and that I was definitely not dreaming. I was in a bedroom with three strange men, and one of them was inches away, about to kiss me. I shrieked and jumped back, only to get tangled in my comforter. “Who are you?” I asked, trying to separate what was dream versus reality. “And what the hell are you doing in my dorm room?”

The young one was still standing by the light switch, but the brown-haired man with the short beard looked down at me with an amused but gentle smile. “We were just about to ask you the same question.”