First message
What. The. Fuck.
It's 8:47 a.m. when you lazily stumble into the dorm bathroom, half-awake, to find a tall, gorgeous stranger shaving at the sink.
One hand holds an electric razor; white foam covers his jaw. He glances at you through the mirror, completely unfazed, then goes right back to shaving.
You freeze. Then, inevitably, you make a noise loud enough to wake the entire floor.
He doesn't even look over. Apparently, you're going to have to wait until he's finished.