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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.
But it hadn’t taken long for me to realize we were not compatible at all.
Before the year was over, we had separated our belongings and stopped speaking unless we absolutely had to.
But here we were, almost a year later, still living together.
I was propped up on my elbows, watching her fidget by the side of my bed.
Her request for comfort had caught me off guard.
I didn’t know what to say, but something else had caught my attention.
The echo of her voice from earlier.
I could hear her pacing in her room through our paper-thin walls.
She had been on the phone, and she had been arguing with someone.
I couldn’t make out most of the conversation, but I had heard my name mentioned more than once.
Now she was standing here, asking me for comfort from the very person she had been talking about tonight.
My stomach churned at the thought of it, but I slid over in bed, making space for her.
She hesitated, then lay down beside me, and in that moment, the silence between us spoke louder than words ever could.
The mattress dipped beneath her weight, and she stiffened as if it pained her to be there.
We didn’t speak.
The only sound was her shallow breathing and the occasional creak of the old wooden bedframe.
I couldn’t see much of her in the dark room, but I knew she was lying on her side, facing away from me, because I could hear the faint ticking of her wristwatch.
My phone charger cast a dim red glow over the space between us, illuminating dust motes that danced in the air.
The minutes ticked by at a slow pace, but I knew she wasn’t asleep.
She kept shifting, adjusting her position every few seconds.
It was as if she couldn’t find a comfortable spot to relax.
I felt a pang of guilt knowing she had to sleep on this old creaky bed.
Her own was even worse, but she insisted on keeping it.
I heard a small sniffle coming from her direction.
Then another.
She was crying.
She had buried her face in her pillow, muffling the sound, but I could tell she was fighting back tears. My hand hovered uncertainly over her shoulder.
I hadn’t intended for things to go this way.
We had been friends once—good friends.
We used to study together late at night and share pizza while we did it.
I remembered laughing uncontrollably at something she had said one night, and when I couldn’t stop giggling, she had rolled off the bed and landed on the floor with a thud that made me laugh even harder.
I remembered all of those good times we had shared, and they overshadowed all of the bad that had happened since then.
Her body trembled as she fought to keep her sobs silent.
I kept my hand suspended in midair, unsure what to do.
She curled tighter into herself, clutching my pillow to her chest, and I breathed in the familiar scent of coconut shampoo.
It was the same brand she had used since we first became roommates.
I liked the smell of it; it reminded me of summer and beaches and warm days that never ended.
I moved my hand closer to her, but I hesitated at the last moment before I made contact with her skin.
She continued to shake, and I heard a faint whisper escape her lips.
"Neil."
She spoke again, her voice breaking on his name.
"He... He said he loved me."
A sob escaped her, followed by another and then another.
The words spilled from her lips between hiccups.
"He promised me he wouldn’t… wouldn’t do it. He lied. He’s just like all the rest." I recognized the pain in her voice.
It was the same pain I had felt when she had turned against me last year.
The same feeling of betrayal and hurt that still lingered deep inside my chest.
I lowered my hand until it rested at the curve of her waist.
"Tina, I didn't know," I whispered, my voice barely audible over her sobs.
She turned slightly, just enough for me to catch a glimpse of her tear-streaked face.
"I didn't either," she replied, her words heavy with the weight of shattered trust.
I stared at the back of her head, her shoulders still shaking with each sob.
I inched closer, and the scent of coconut shampoo filled my nostrils once again.
It brought back memories of late-night study sessions and laughter we had shared before Neil came between us.
My arm felt heavy with hesitation as I slowly lifted it from beneath the covers.
The faint red glow from my phone charger cast eerie shadows on the wall beside us, illuminating the tears streaming down her face.
Despite our year of hostility toward each other, the pain in her voice was raw and real.
When I finally wrapped my arm around her waist, she stiffened for a moment before relaxing into my embrace.
In that fragile moment, I realized we were both searching for the same thing: a way back to each other.
As her crying subsided, we lay there in silence, the only sound coming from the faint ticking of her wristwatch.
The red glow from my phone charger cast an eerie light on the wall beside us, illuminating the shadows that danced across her tear-stained face.
Her breath came in small hiccups, still uneven from crying.
I couldn’t help but notice how close we were lying.
Close enough to see the tiny freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose that I had forgotten about.
My heart pounded in my chest as I realized how much I had missed those little details about her.
She shifted slightly, and our knees touched beneath the blanket.
The familiar scent of coconut shampoo filled the space between us, transporting me back to a time when things were simpler.
As I watched her, I noticed her breathing had steadied, but her cheeks were still damp from the tears she had shed.
She shifted onto her side to face me, our bodies just inches apart on my narrow dorm bed.
Her dark eyes searched mine, still glassy from the tears that lingered in them.
The faint scent of coconut shampoo wafted up from where she lay beside me.
I felt a sudden urge to reach out and brush a strand of hair from her face, but my hand hesitated, unsure if the moment was right.
As I looked at her, I noticed her lips were parted slightly, as if waiting for something—or someone—to fill the space between us.
The silence stretched on for a moment, and then Tina inched closer, closing the gap between our bodies.
My heart pounded in my chest as I felt her breath on my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. The red glow of my phone charger cast an eerie light on the wall beside us, illuminating the tiny freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose.
I could see every detail of her face now that she was so close, and it made me realize how much I had missed seeing those little things about her.
My gaze locked onto hers as she drew closer, her eyes still glassy with tears.
I felt time slow around us, as if the world had come to a standstill.
Her lips brushed against mine for a brief moment before they pulled away again.
I could taste the salt of her tears on my lips and smell the faint hint of coconut shampoo in the air between us.
The pressure of her lips on mine was gentle, but it sent a wave of heat through my body.
My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to process what had just happened.
The red glow from my phone charger cast shadows on the wall beside us, illuminating the uncertainty in her eyes.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she watched me, her breath coming in quickened huffs.
The scent of coconut shampoo filled the air between us, making me dizzy with desire.
Our legs were tangled together beneath the blanket, and her hand rested tentatively on my hip.
I could feel the familiar warmth of her body next to mine, and it broke down the last of my defenses.
In that moment, I knew we were finally finding our way back to each other.
I studied her face in the dim red glow, trying to read her emotions.
Her dark eyes were still glassy from the tears she had shed, and her cheeks were flushed from crying.
But as she looked at me, I saw a flicker of something else there too - a mix of uncertainty and longing.
Without thinking, I shifted closer to her, closing the small gap between our bodies.
Our legs pressed together beneath the blanket, and her hand tightened on my hip as she caught her breath.
The past year of fighting and hurt feelings seemed to fade away in that moment, replaced by a rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.
I couldn’t help but focus on her parted lips, still tasting the salt of her tears from our first tentative kiss.
It was almost as if I was in a trance, unable to think or act beyond the moment in front of me. Without overthinking it, I closed the small gap between our lips once again.
This time, my lips pressed more firmly against hers, tracing along the curve of her mouth with my fingers.
Her breath hitched, and I knew we were finally home.
