You know things are about to change when you find yourself staring at a drawer filled with teeth. Little teeth. Humanlike, little teeth.
Licking my lips, I fight the urge to grab one, just to see if they're real. They look real. Most of them are shiny and almost pearly-white. The whole drawer is divided in different categories: canines, incisors, and molars are the ones that catch my eyes. I know, because there are little tags between the divisions. They look the same to me though; all white, all shiny, all... teeth.
"Julie, did you find it?" A rough voice looms from behind the bathroom's door.
I blink. I found something all right!
Trying to ignore the way my pulse is accelerating, I raise my tone. "Derek, why do you have a drawer full of teeth in your room?" All I want to say is, I thought you were a chef not a creepy dentist wannabe!
Something crashes inside the bathroom before the door flies open and the hallway fills with steam. My roommate of two months comes out, barely wrapping a towel over his hips, still all wet and looking mighty dangerous; not because of the teeth I just found, but because his chest is glistening. A few drops are sliding down the muscles, following that daunting trail of hair that hides beneath the towel.
Focus, Julie, focus.
In my defense, it's the first time I see him in all his glory. In the two months he's been around, we have interacted a few times. But that definitely needs to change. Not because he has an incredible athletic body. No. That has nothing to do with it. I have to know more about the teeth. Remember those little creepers. And don't forget about the stupid no dating-roommates policy. Ugh.
His light brown eyes are wide as he stops fussing with the towel. I try to fix my gaze on his face, but my traitorous eyes slide down once before I force them up again. Black wisps of hair spatter water on the floor as he runs a hand through his hair.
"I told you it was on the second drawer to the right." He quickly closes the drawer, pursing his lips.
My eyes cast down. I'd opened the one to the left. "My bad. Sorry."
"Yeah, whatever." He mutters under his breath before opening the right drawer and pulling out the stapler I was searching for in the first place. As he moves, I can't help but stare at his right arm, where there's a curious tattoo I'd never noticed he had. It's some sort of coat-of-arms. I lean over to take a better look at the little thing in the middle that looks suspiciously like a tooth, but he moves away.
"Do you have a tooth fetish?"
Derek freezes. He's in the middle of the room when he turns to me. He rolls his shoulders and I can't help but stare at the way his muscles bulge. "If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."
I cross my arms on my chest. "Try me."
He presses his lips together before walking to his bed and sitting on it. He exhales softly before his gaze fixes on me. Slowly, as if he's thinking it through, his lips tug up in a wolfish grin.
Oh.
The way he is staring at me makes my insides squirm. I'm not sure if it's a bad thing, though.
He doesn't look crazy or dangerous. He never has. I read his submission form, and he seemed normal. His background was boring, even. He moved from Boston and is majoring in the culinary institute. He pays his rent within the first ten days, and he's pretty well-organized and clean.
"Okay. I can tell you under one condition."
My stomach rolls and I'm not sure if it's wise that I ask more, yet I'm dying to know. "I'm listening," I murmur nonchalantly, fidgeting with the hem of my jersey.
