All Chapters of Dorm Room Desires: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

SAMANTHA’S POVThe taxi idled outside the hotel like a hearse waiting to carry away the last pieces of my freedom. My suitcase was already in the boot. Mum sat in the back seat, eyes red and determined. Dad stood by the open door, one hand on my shoulder like he was afraid I’d bolt.“We leave in three hours,” Dad said, voice flat. “The board has given their final warning. You will apologize properly, and we are going home. No more arguments, Samantha.”I stood on the wet pavement, rain soaking my hoodie, phone burning a hole in my pocket. Wesley had texted me twenty minutes ago.Wesley: I’m at my flat. Door unlocked. Come now. One last time before they take you.My body still ached from him. My heart felt shredded. Donald had sent a gentle message offering to meet me at the airport if I needed support. The guilt over both of them was suffocating.“I need to say goodbye to Angelina,” I lied, stepping back. “Five minutes. Please.”Mum started to protest, but Dad sighed. “Five minutes. T

SAMANTHA’S POVThe administration building felt colder than the Manchester rain outside. I sat in the waiting area with Mum on one side and Dad on the other, their presence like two walls closing in. My reflection paper was folded neatly in my lap, the apology I had written under pressure, carefully worded to satisfy the board without completely erasing what had happened with Wesley.Donald sat across from us, offering quiet support with a small nod every time I glanced his way. He had come even though I told him he didn’t have to. His steady presence felt safe, but it also made the guilt sharper. Last night with Wesley had been raw, desperate, and real. The memory of him inside me, whispering that he loved me, still made my body ache in the best and worst ways.The board called us in at exactly 11am.Professor Hargrove and three other members sat behind the long table, faces stern. They had printouts of the gossip posts, screenshots of the videos, and my academic record spread out li

SAMANTHA’S POVThe first week after my parents left felt like walking a tightrope made of glass. The university had assigned me a student conduct advisor, a stern woman named Dr. Patel who met with me twice that week to “monitor my progress.” Every meeting started with the same warning: one more incident, and my scholarship would be permanently revoked. No exceptions.I spent my days buried in books and group projects, trying to prove I was still the focused literature student I had been before Wesley turned my world upside down. But my nights belonged to him.Every single night.Tuesday night I slipped out after a late study session and went straight to his flat. He had dinner waiting, simple chicken and rice he’d cooked himself. We barely ate half of it before he had me bent over the kitchen table, jeans around my ankles, fucking me deep and hard while I tried (and failed) to stay quiet.“Missed this pussy all day,” he groaned, gripping my hips, thrusting so deep I saw stars. “Tell

SAMANTHA’S POVThe campus notice board outside the student union was crowded with students chatting and taking photos. In the center, pinned with bright red tape, was the official invitation for the End-of-Year Formal, the biggest event of the semester. Black tie, live music, awards for academic and athletic excellence, and a guest speaker from the business world. It was scheduled for next Saturday night in the grand hall of the main building.I stared at it for a long time, my stomach twisting.Wesley’s name was listed as one of the basketball team captains who would receive a special recognition. My own name appeared in the literature department honors list. And underneath, in small print, was a note: “All scholarship students must attend unless excused by the board.”Dr. Patel had already emailed me that morning: “Attendance is mandatory. Any absence will be noted in your final probation review.”My phone buzzed in my pocket. Mum.Mum: We saw the formal invitation on the university

SAMANTHA’S POVThe old training court behind the sports block was deserted at 11:30 PM, the faded white lines barely visible under the single flickering floodlight. I had slipped out of the hostel after Angelina fell asleep, telling her I needed fresh air for a late-night walk to clear my head before finals prep. The lie tasted bitter, but the truth that I was meeting Wesley for the third time this week in a place no one ever checked felt even heavier.Wesley was already there, leaning against the rusted basketball hoop, his tall frame silhouetted against the misty Manchester night. He wore a black hoodie and joggers, the same ones he’d had on earlier when we’d almost gotten caught in the library stacks during what was supposed to be a study session. His green eyes caught the light as I approached, intense and hungry.“You’re late,” he said, voice low, pulling me into his arms the moment I was close enough. His hands slid under my hoodie immediately, palms hot against my bare skin. “I