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MidReal Story
Cuddles with My Hot Roommate
Scenario:Tina and I have lived together in the same dorm room for almost a year. We don't get along very well due to Tina's very complex character. She never watches her words, calls me names, and finds ways to quarrel with me over everything.
It’s 2 a.m. now, hours since our last fight. I’m lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, but insomnia keeps me awake. Suddenly, an awkward but quite loud knock is heard on the door.
Here the door opens a little and the top of Tina's head appears from there. "Are you sleeping? No? I knew you weren't sleeping." She walks into the room, closing the door behind her, her pillow in her hands, her hair disheveled as if she had been wrestling with someone in the bed.
"Look... Just don't laugh, okay, idiot. But can I sleep here tonight? I... I just can't. I need company, maybe a little cuddle, I feel calmer this way." Her face is slightly red, she looks at me with a calm and tired face. "Just don't think that I'm a small and helpless girl, got it, nerd?" She shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other and then adds "Well then...can I?"
Create my version of this story
Chanel Windsor
firstperson protagonist, female, college student, roommate to Tina, average height with curly brown hair, introverted and analytical
Neil Jensen
side protagonist, male, mutual friend of Chanel and Tina, tall with glasses and a friendly smile
Tina Rodriguez
protagonist, female, college student, roommate to Chanel, petite with straight black hair, outspoken and complex
I hated Tina.
No, that wasn’t enough.
I loathed Tina.
Detested her.
Abhorred her.
Hated was just too mild a word for my feelings toward my so-called roommate and friend.
We had been paired together our freshman year, and I had thought it was going to be a good match.
She was outgoing; I was introverted.
I was analytical; she was complex.
I mean, I still wasn’t entirely sure what made her tick.
But that complexity turned out to be a curse in disguise.
Because no matter how much I studied her, I could never seem to figure her out or predict what she would do next.
And more often than not, her actions pissed me off.
Take last night, for example.
She’d come in at four thirty in the morning, turned on the light, and turned on the radio.
Then she had the audacity to wake me up and tell me to roll over.
I sat up in bed, watching as she stumbled toward me.
She was unsteady on her feet, and I could smell the tequila on her breath from across the room.
Without waiting for my answer, she crawled onto my bed, pressing her warm body against mine.
Her hands started wandering, first on my arm, then sliding down to my waist.
My heart was pounding in my chest as I tried to figure out what was happening.
"You’re really pretty," she slurred, her face inches from mine.
Her breath was hot against my cheek, and I could feel the liquor on her breath.
Her fingers traced patterns on my skin through my thin pajamas.
I grabbed her wrist, stopping her wandering hand.
"Tina, you’re drunk."
She looked at me with a confused expression on her face.
"What does that have to do with anything?" she mumbled, her eyes searching mine.
"It means you’re not thinking straight, and we need to talk about this when you’re sober," I replied firmly.
"But what if I’ve been thinking about this for a long time?" she whispered, her voice suddenly clear and serious.
I kept my grip on her wrist tight as she leaned in closer, her dark hair falling around our faces like a curtain.
The moonlight streaming through the window highlighted the flush in her cheeks, and I could see that her pupils were dilated.
She shifted her weight, pressing against me more insistently, and I could feel the heat of her body through our thin pajamas.
When she tried to free her wrist, I held it tight, watching her face for some indication of what she would do next.
Her free hand traced patterns on my shoulder while she watched me intently.
Despite the alcohol in her system, her movements were deliberate and precise.
Her fingertips trailed across my shoulder, leaving tingles in their wake.
The moonlight caught in her dark eyes, making them glitter like stars.
She shifted closer, her knee brushing against my thigh under the covers.
I loosened my grip on her wrist but didn’t release it completely.
Under my fingers, I could feel her pulse pounding away, a rhythm that seemed to match the pounding of my own heart.
Her scent filled my nostrils, a mix of the shampoo she used and the tequila she had drunk.
She tilted her head, her lips parting slightly.
Even though I knew she was drunk and not thinking clearly, I couldn’t help but be drawn to her vulnerability.
It was so different from the sharp edges she normally showed the world.
I slowly loosened my fingers from around her wrist, watching her reaction.
Her pulse still raced beneath my fingertips as I let go.
She stayed frozen for a moment, dark eyes searching my face in the dim light.
I managed a small smile, despite the thundering of my heart.
The mattress shifted under us as she adjusted her position, her knee pressing more firmly against my thigh.
Her freed hand hovered near my face uncertainly while her other hand continued to trace abstract patterns on my shoulder.
We both waited, the room heavy with tension, to see what she would do next.
"Tina, if this is something you've really thought about, then why now?" I asked softly, trying to steady my voice.
"Because I'm tired of pretending," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
I hesitated, searching her eyes for the truth.
Her fingers drifted from my shoulder to the side of my neck, leaving trails of warmth behind.
She inched closer, her face only centimeters away from mine, her breath mingling with mine.
I remained frozen, caught between wanting to pull away and leaning into her touch.
Her dark eyes searched mine intently, no longer clouded by alcohol but filled with nervous anticipation.
My heart pounded against my ribs as she slowly closed the distance between us.
Time seemed to stretch out, and I noticed every detail: the slight tremor in her hand, the way she bit her lower lip, the soft exhale just before she tilted her head.
And then, with a quiet resolve that left no room for doubt, she kissed me.
For a heartbeat, I hesitated, unsure if I should respond.
Doubts raced through my mind: Was she sober enough to make this decision?
Was this just another drunken mistake?
But as her lips moved softly against mine, I felt the genuine tenderness behind her actions.
My fingers threaded through her dark hair while my other hand found her waist, pulling her closer.
She made a small sound of contentment, her body relaxing against mine.
I deepened the kiss, and the walls that normally separated us crumbled.
In the darkness of the room, we held each other, our breaths mingling together.
"Tina," I murmured, pulling back slightly to meet her gaze, "are you sure this is what you want?"
Her eyes softened, and she nodded, whispering, "I've never been more certain about anything."
I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of her words settle over us, and whispered back, "Then let's stop pretending."
Her lips trailed down my neck, leaving a path of warmth behind.
I leaned back against my pillow as her kisses grew bolder, her hand sliding up my stomach.
My breath caught when her fingers reached the elastic of my pajama pants, playing with it uncertainly.
She paused, looking up at me with questioning eyes.
I nodded slowly, feeling my pulse race beneath my skin.
Her hand slid lower, and I closed my eyes, pulling her closer against me as her fingers slipped beneath the fabric.
The moonlight cast shadows across her face in the darkness, illuminating the softness that had replaced her usual sharp edges.
She watched me carefully, curiosity etched across her features as she waited for my reaction.
The room was silent except for the sound of our breaths mingling together.
"Tina," I whispered, my voice trembling slightly, "what changed for you?"
She paused, her hand stilling as she considered my question.
"I realized," she said softly, "that I've been running from what I really want for too long."
I guided her hand lower, feeling her fingers tremble against my skin.
Her breath caught as she touched me, her movements hesitant yet eager.
The sharp edges of her personality had softened, replaced by an almost shy curiosity.
When she paused, uncertain, I squeezed her hand reassuringly.
She responded by pressing closer, her lips finding my neck again.
The moonlight cast a silver glow over the curve of her shoulder as she shifted above me.
Despite her earlier bravado, she followed my lead now, allowing me to show her what I wanted.
"Tina," I murmured, breaking the silence, "what changed for you?"
She paused, her hand stilling as she considered my question.
"I realized," she said softly, "that I've been running from what I really want for too long."
