Rooming With The Enemy Alpha

11. New and Old

(Danielle)

I finished bathing and turned around to see that I brought no clothes or towel inside the bathroom. f**k my luck. In my hurry to run away from Aaron, I totally forgot to bring my clothes.

Now I was standing in front of the mirror, contemplating.

"What to do, what to do? What the hell should I do?"

"You can walk outside naked, and Aaron will never come back to this room again." My wolf was such a b***h when not needed.

“Hey!” she said indignantly.

I didn’t care.

After five full minutes of wasting time—shivering in the cold, debating my life choices, and trying to ignore Rexi’s completely unhelpful commentary in my head—I finally accepted the bitter truth: there was only one way to save myself from the humiliation of walking out naked in front of Aaron.

Aaron’s T-shirt.

Shit.

I felt like a total creep as I pulled it off the hanger. And somehow, I felt even more like one when I slipped it over my head.

“He is never going to shut up about this.”

“I know, Rex, I know!” I hissed, my voice echoing against the cold bathroom tiles.

The shirt smelled like him—warm, clean, slightly citrusy—and I hated how much I noticed. As I instinctively inhaled, I muttered to myself, “Creepy. Crazy. Pervert. That’s me.”

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair hung in wet, limp strands, plastered against my face like it had given up on life. My teeth were chattering, and my skin looked pale—like I’d just walked out of a horror movie. But the hair would bounce back. It always did.

I cracked open the bathroom door, peeking out. No sign of Aaron. Good. This was my moment to sneak out.

I took a deep breath and tiptoed out, stealth mode activated. Unfortunately, I was not stealthy enough.

“Is that my T-shirt?”

I yelped, clutching my chest like my heart was trying to escape. How did he do that? He must be part ninja.

“I—I’m sorry. I forgot—”

“It’s alright.” His voice was calm, smooth. “It looks better on you anyway.”

Wait, what?

What kind of nonsense line was that?

I squinted at him. “Aaron… are you sick?”

I made my way to the closet, grabbing a handful of clothes without looking. Anything. Just not this.

“Do you want to check my temperature?” he asked, towel still slung over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

“You’re definitely sick. Delirious, even. Go visit the nurse,” I said, disappearing back into the bathroom.

His laughter echoed after me as I yanked off his T-shirt and threw it into the laundry hamper like it had personally betrayed me.

When I finally emerged, fully dressed, I caught sight of myself in the mirror and froze.

What had I done?

A long, polka-dotted coat. Underneath it, a green full-sleeved shirt that clashed with everything, including logic. And my jeans... were with holes in one knee, and I honestly had no idea where or when I bought them.

I looked like Mr. Joker after a thrift-store bender.

Still, I gathered the last of my dignity, opened the door, and stepped out like I was walking a red carpet.

Aaron took one look at me and lost it.

He spat out his orange juice, laughing so hard he had to clutch the kitchen counter for balance. “Oh my God! You—you—Danielle, what are you wearing?” He pointed at my outfit like it had personally insulted him. “I needed that laugh. Seriously.”

I rolled my eyes and lifted my chin. If I was going down, I was going down with style.

"And the coffee trick was cheap, Danielle,” he added with a dramatic eye roll.

My jaw tightened.

“Your coffee—” he pointed to the full, untouched mug on the side “—looked darker than a moonless night and smelled like burnt paper. Did you actually think I was going to drink that?” He gestured toward it like it had committed a crime. “My coffee smells like heaven. You can’t just fake it by placing the cup at the same angle. I know the difference.”

I groaned. “Okay, okay! I get it. You’re a freak. I can't make coffee like you, you coffee-obsessed freak.”

He grinned and followed me as I headed toward the door.

And of course, he didn’t stop.

What now?

"But you can eat, like a lot, a whole lot." Aaron continued with a smile. He looked breathtaking when he wasn't smiling. When he smiled... It was like a freaking cosmic shift. Inside my betraying body.

The hell with this.

"Did something happen to you in the short time I didn't see you?" I asked as I picked out my hair dryer and started drying my hair.

I preferred that moody Aaron to this teasing, chuckling Aaron. He made me feel things I would rather not feel.

"Maybe." He gave me a small shrug. "What are you doing with your hair?" He asked as I finished drying and then started bunching it inside my cap.

"Stop destroying your hair," he said. "And that cap is not a good idea."

"I know. I don't have time."

He chuckled. "But Dani, are you really, really going out like this?"

I shrugged. My ego was too big to admit I was wrong. He smiled, shaking his head.

He looked like the Aaron I once knew, I once adored. The thought brought back memories that I had successfully closed in a black box and kept in the back of my head.

This was getting ridiculous. Aaron and I never talked like this. We never spat easily like this. It was always to an extreme extent, that I'd finally hurt by his words.

This easy going banter wasn't our routine. This wasn't normal in our life.

I felt my stomach flip nervously as I stared at him from my side eyes. He was combing his hair, slightly whistling. He looked so in home here and it made me want to scream.

Why? Why in the hell was he acting like we weren't enemies anymore?

I left the room with Aaron walking just behind me. Sam-cow was going to die of asphyxiation if she saw this scene.

When I stopped in my locker, Aaron leaned against the locker next to mine and scanned inside my locker with a small frown.

"It looks worse than a garbage bin." He said as his fingers played with his phone.

"Why are you following me, you stalker?" I said as I punched him in his shoulder.

"Why are you making this hard for me? I'm trying to forget everything and move on. You were the one who asked me to stop this and now-" Aaron glared at me, his eyes blaming, and suddenly I wanted to apologize.

"Apologize? Whoa?" Rexi blinked, confused.

“If you don’t walk away right now, I swear I’ll shove that leftover pizza—” I pointed to the sad slice languishing in my locker, “—straight into your mouth.”

Aaron actually looked alarmed, taking a cautious step back. “Okay, okay. Stand down, pizza warrior.”

I arched a brow at him as he continued to peer into the disaster zone that was my locker, looking vaguely horrified.

“You’ve got more leftovers in there than in your actual fridge,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose. “Do you ever clean this thing?”

“Not really. I don’t have time.”

“You have time to store pizza in there, but not clean it?”

“That’s called survival, McCarter.”

He leaned back, still visibly disturbed. “It looks like something in there is breeding weaponized bacteria. Possibly rabid. I wouldn’t be surprised if it achieved sentience overnight.”

I shrugged. “You could always clean it for me.”

“Absolutely not,” he said, taking another glance inside before recoiling like he might vomit. “I value my life, thanks.”

I laughed.

That’s when the voice cut in. “Aaron… what are you doing here with her?”

And just like that, the air shifted.

Welcome, Samantha, to the new reality.

She was standing there, all perfect posture and judgmental eyes. I could practically hear her brain scrambling to make sense of what she was seeing.

“Samantha.” Aaron’s voice was low. Cold. Not a greeting—more like a warning. His entire posture changed as he turned toward her, sharp and tense.

Something was off. Whatever was between them wasn’t just messy—it was broken. And, okay, I’m not proud of it, but that realization sparked a flicker of satisfaction in me.

“Oh my god… she’s your roommate?” Samantha’s gaze darted between us, her expression incredulous, like she was witnessing a betrayal of biblical proportions. “She’s… she’s your roommate.”

Wow. Sherlock Sam finally put two and two together. Her deductive skills weren’t completely useless, apparently.

“Yes,” Aaron said. Curt. Final.

If I were Samantha, I would’ve turned around and walked away. But this was Samantha—Queen of Unwanted Drama. Of course she didn’t move.

“You can’t be serious. You can’t live with her. She—she’s a boyfriend-stealer.”

Me? I was?

Oh, here we go.

I laughed. I didn’t even try to hold it in. Samantha glared daggers at me, but I was beyond caring.

Aaron raised a brow, turning to me. “So, where exactly are you hiding these stolen boyfriends? Closet? Under the bed? I did check this morning. All I found were mismatched socks and a very dirty hairbrush.”

That earned a real laugh from me. Was he actually defending me? What was happening?

“She’s not who you think she is,” Samantha snapped.

Aaron gave her a long look. “Okay. Enlighten me. Has she hidden a secret harem? Did she use them and toss the bodies somewhere? Because, last I checked, I haven’t seen any of these allegedly stolen boyfriends.”

Samantha flushed a deep, furious red. “She almost killed Daisy.”

The smile dropped from my face. He went stiff. There went our perilous peace.

My stomach twisted, and my palms went clammy. That was a low blow—and a lie. A straight, cold lie. Samantha used to be my friend once. How did it come to this?

Aaron’s face darkened. He stepped forward just slightly. “What do you want, Samantha?”

She flinched.

“Leave,” he said simply, voice like stone. “Now.”

She looked at him, then at me—still waiting for something.

“Get your books,” Aaron said without looking at me.

I nodded, numb. My voice had apparently abandoned ship. I turned, grabbed my books silently.

“Wolf History,” he murmured, already heading for the door.

I nodded again.

Samantha stood there, frozen, watching as we walked away. Together. I didn’t understand what had just happened.

“Neither do I,” Rexi whispered inside my head.

Then Aaron said, almost offhand, “I should just break up with her.”

I didn’t know if he meant to say it aloud, or if he was talking to me. So I stayed quiet. There were too many emotions swirling around in me to respond properly.

When we entered the classroom, Mr. Jones raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, finally. Ms. Landon graces us with her presence—and fashion sense. A round of applause, everyone. Come in.” The man had a really wicked humor.

He eyed my outfit like it had personally offended him.

“You too, Mr. McCarter,” he added. “Or do you need a written invitation?”

Aaron just shrugged and walked inside like he owned the place.

“Wow, you look beautiful, babe.” Some jerk two rows back smirked at me.

I gave him a sweet smile. “And you won’t look beautiful without teeth, darling.”

He flinched.

“Sit down, Ms. Landon,” Mr. Jones said with a tired sigh. I curtsied dramatically, which drew a few laughs—none from him, of course.

Five minutes later, the door opened again.

Mr. Jones groaned. “What is with everyone today? And you are?”

The guy who walked in had a voice like thunder and honey.

“I’m new. You know that. Damien.”

He gave a casual wave. My brain stopped working.

Tall. Dark. Ridiculously handsome. His long hair fell over one eye, and he wore a fitted black tee like it was designed just for him. His eyes—green. Sparkling. Hypnotic.

The entire room snapped to attention. Girls sat up straighter.

Game. Over.

He walked straight toward the empty seat next to mine.

“Can I sit here?” he asked, voice low, lips tilted in a half-smile.

"Yes."

___