INLOVE WITH THE WRONG ROOMMATE

Chapter 2

Jason smirked like he’d been waiting for the question. “Well,” he said, stabbing his fork into a fry, “that would be Liam. A self-centered egomaniac.”

“Egomaniac?” I echoed, arching a brow. “Sounds charming.”

“Trust me,” Jason muttered. “He’s not.”

Tasha leaned forward, curiosity written all over her face. “You know him?”

Jason shrugged, casual but not exactly friendly. “Everyone knows him. Social media prince of the campus. He walks into a room and half the girls forget how to breathe.”

I snorted. “And the other half?”

“They’re too busy refreshing his feed,” Jason shot back.

The table beside us erupted into another wave of giggles, chanting Liam’s name like he was some celebrity sighting. My curiosity prickled, but I wasn’t about to admit it out loud.

“Great,” I muttered, stabbing a piece of chicken. “First day here and there’s already a campus celebrity. Just what I needed.”

Jason smirked knowingly. “Don’t worry. You’ll see him soon enough. Orientation always brings the circus out.”

I picked up my phone to check the time and nearly choked on the numbers glaring back at me. “I better head to my dorm room to drop off my suitcase and dress up,” I said, turning to Tasha.

“Yeah, you should.” She gave me a once-over and grinned. “You can’t show up at orientation looking like a runaway traveler.”

I glanced down at myself, crumpled shirt from the road trip, hair barely surviving the morning humidity, and sighed. She wasn’t wrong.

Jason chuckled. “Don’t worry, Ama. The first day is chaotic for everyone. You’ll blend right in.”

“Comforting,” I muttered, though a small smile tugged at my lips.

Tasha stood, grabbing her tray. “I’ll text you the dorm directions, but your building should be just across the quad. Don’t get lost again.”

I stuck my tongue out at her dramatically. “One time, Tash. I got lost one time.”

Her laughter followed me as I stood, gathering my things. Jason gave me a polite nod, and I dragged my suitcase toward the cafeteria doors, feeling the late afternoon sun spill across my face.

Outside, the campus buzzed louder than before, students moving in groups, flyers fluttering on boards, the air heavy with both nerves and excitement. My stomach tightened. This was it. My first real step into this new world.

And maybe, just maybe, into the chaos everyone seemed to be whispering about.

Dragging my suitcase across campus was basically punishment for all my sins. Whoever designed these cobblestone paths clearly hated luggage wheels. By the time I reached my dorm building, I was sweaty, cranky, and already questioning if university life was worth it.

The building Itself looked… decent. Modern enough, shiny glass doors, the kind of place you could take a cute i********: story in and pretend you had your life together. Inside smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and nerves, probably from all the freshers dragging their hopes and dreams through the hall.

“Room 204,” I muttered, hunting down the numbers like I was in some bad treasure hunt. Finally, I slid the key into the lock, braced myself, and pushed the door open.

Silence.

Thank God.

The apartment was small but not tragic: a tiny shared lounge area with a couch that looked like it had been rescued from a yard sale, two bedroom doors facing each other like rivals. My roommate wasn’t in yet, which meant no awkward small talk or fake smiling while I looked like a zombie. Blessings on blessings.

I dragged my suitcase into the left room and stopped, hands on my hips.

Well… it was a box. A white box with a bed shoved against the wall, a desk under the window, and a wardrobe that creaked like it was eighty years old. Not exactly Pinterest dorm inspo, but hey…it had sunlight streaming in through the blinds, and that counted for something.

I dropped onto the mattress, immediately sinking into its weird, lumpy glory. “Home sweet… slightly suspicious mattress,” I muttered. The ceiling stared back at me, blank and judgmental, and for a moment I wondered if this was what freedom looked like, plain walls and dust in the corners.

Still, I wasn’t about to sulk. I pulled myself up and started unpacking. Clothes folded haphazardly into drawers, skincare lined up like little soldiers on the desk, and my family photo perched where I could see it. The place instantly felt less like “generic university housing” and more like Ama’s territory.

I caught my reflection in the mirror above the wardrobe and made a face. Hair slightly frizzy, shirt sticking to me from hauling bags around… yikes. “If anyone sees me like this, I’ll just say I’m experimenting with the homeless chic aesthetic,” I told the mirror before grabbing a quick shower.

Fresh clothes, lip gloss, a touch of eyeliner… bam. Presentable.

I gave myself a final once-over. Not perfect, but close enough to fool strangers. “Okay, Ama,” I said to my reflection, striking a mock superhero pose. “First orientation night. Don’t trip, don’t stutter, and maybe, just maybe, don’t bump into any more hot strangers.”

I grabbed my bag, locked the door, and headed out, nerves buzzing in my stomach like bees on an energy drink.

The auditorium was already buzzing when I walked in, the kind of buzz that makes your skin prickle. Everywhere I turned, freshers were dolled up like it was prom night instead of a boring welcome speech. Lip gloss, high heels, cologne strong enough to knock someone unconscious, apparently orientation was a runway show now.

I picked a seat near the middle, close enough to see the stage but far enough to make a quick escape if the speeches dragged. I had just settled when a squeal exploded to my right.

“Oh my God, he’s here!”

I blinked. He?

Like an invisible signal, heads turned, whispers spread, and suddenly the room tilted. Girls craned their necks, guys rolled their eyes, and a tall figure strolled down the aisle like he owned the place.

Liam.

I knew it was him without asking, every girl’s eyes screamed it. He was… tall, sharp-jawed, expensive-looking, the kind of guy who probably had cologne delivered to his dorm by personal assistants. His shirt clung just enough to his frame to make girls sigh, and his smirk said he knew exactly what effect he had.

Beside me, two girls were practically falling out of their chairs.

“He’s hotter in person.”

“He has, like, a million followers, right? I saw his i********: live last night.”

I crossed my arms. Wow. Congratulations, Liam. You walked into a room. Truly groundbreaking.

Rolling my eyes, I focused on the stage, but the whispers wouldn’t stop. Liam took a seat in the front row like some campus celebrity, and girls kept snapping sneaky pictures as if we were at a concert. Honestly? The secondhand embarrassment was real.

“Not impressed either?” a voice whispered beside me.

I turned to see a girl with box braids and sharp eyeliner grinning knowingly at me. She held out her hand. “Chika. You look like you could use a friend before you die of cringe.”

I snorted, shaking her hand. “Ama. And yes, please. If I roll my eyes any harder, they’ll get stuck.”

We both laughed quietly, already bonded by mutual Liam-disdain.

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted him.

Ethan.

He leaned casually against the side wall, chatting with a group of older students. Same easy smile, same calm energy that felt like a breath of air compared to Liam’s walking spotlight. For a split second, his gaze drifted across the room, landing on me.

Butterflies. Actual, stupid butterflies.

I quickly looked away, pretending to be fascinated by the program booklet in my lap. Chika raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, thank God.

The dean finally took the stage, clearing his throat. The chatter died down, except for Liam’s fan club still buzzing in the background.

As the speeches began, I leaned closer to Chika. “If he winks at anyone, I’m leaving.”

She stifled a laugh. “Deal. I’ll come with you.”

And just like that, orientation didn’t feel so unbearable anymore.