My hacker roommate

From that day on, I saw Carl in a completely different light.

That ceaseless stream of crimson commentary in my mind—an omniscient narrator on live broadcast—was revealing my roommate’s innermost thoughts.

Like when I was washing dishes and broke a plate.

[Oho, opportunity knocks! Look at God Carl—he’s so nervous he’s about to rush over and scoop her up for inspection!]

[Internal OS: Her hands are so slender. Are they cut? I want to lick them.]

[Restrain yourself, Carl. Your persona is aloof roommate, not creep!]

I glanced down at my perfectly fine fingers, then looked up to find Carl standing in the kitchen doorway, his thin lips pressed tight, eyes shadowed with a worry I’d never understood until now.

Catching my gaze, he immediately looked away, his tone flat as always. “Be careful.”

Then he turned and left, his steps oddly stiff.

Or when I wore my new spaghetti-strap nightgown and deliberately paraded past him.

[!!! Nosebleed! Who could resist this?!]

[Warning! Warning! Corruption meter spiking! He’s debating whether to lock the door or just carry her straight to bed!]

Ignoring the commentary, I put on an innocent face. “Carl, does this nightgown look good on me?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Ugly,” he bit out.

He all but fled to his room.

Leaning against the door, I listened to the muffled, ragged breathing from inside and smiled like the cat that got the cream.

So entertaining.

Here was a man whose desire stormed beneath the surface, yet who clung desperately to a veneer of gentlemanly decorum. The more he restrained himself, the more I longed to tear off that disguise and see what kind of ferocious beast lay beneath.

The commentary became my perfect accomplice.

It revealed that Carl would sneak into my room after I fell asleep, standing by my bed watching me for what felt like hours.

It told me he collected strands of my fallen hair, storing them in a small glass vial.

It confessed to an encrypted folder on his computer—photos of me from university until now, every angle, every occasion, some I’d never even seen.

He was like a hunter lurking in the shadows, wrapping me in a fine, invisible net. I was the prey he’d coveted for years.

The realization thrilled me to the point of trembling.

I began testing his limits even more brazenly.

One night, I deliberately left my door ajar and lay in bed pretending to sleep.

Sure enough, in the dead of night, I heard the faintest footsteps.

Him.

He stopped beside my bed and stood motionless for a long time. His crisp cedar scent filled the air, mixed with something darker, more aggressively masculine, wrapping around me.

[He wants to kiss her! He’s leaning down!]

[Don’t chicken out now, God Carl! Just kiss her! Do it!]

I felt his breath draw closer, warm against my cheek. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would leap from my throat.

Come on. Tear off the disguise.

Let me see how much you love me.

But the moment his lips were about to touch mine, he froze.

[Damn! Emergency brake! Why?!]

[He saw tear tracks. Thought she was having a nightmare.]

[God Carl: She’s crying. How can I take advantage? I have to be… good.]

A cool, impossibly gentle hand brushed the tear tracks from the corner of my eye—tears that had welled up from sheer nervousness.

Then he straightened up, gave me one long, deep look, and turned away without a sound.

My eyes snapped open. Staring at the ceiling, I felt a blend of frustration and bitter amusement.

Was this man… an obsessive with a heart of gold?

No. This was too slow.

I had to push him over the edge.