For this week’s Six Sentence Sunday, a moment from a soon-to-be-submitted novella about college roommates.
Grant slipped into the room as quietly as he could. Keith sure seemed to be sleeping, sprawled out on his stomach, one leg pulled up and one arm under the pillow supporting his head. Grant tried not to stare, but the sheet had pulled down, exposing the long line of Keith’s back in the low light from the window, and Grant couldn’t look away. Keith shifted as he watched, muscles bunching and stretching under his smooth skin, and Grant spun around on his heel, setting his backpack on his desk and pressing his eyes shut.
Cut it the hell out, he ordered himself. No crushing on the roommate.