CHAPTER THREE: ROOMMATE FROM HELL
1462 Words
If Crestwood was a kingdom, then my dorm room was supposed to be my fortress.
Not a castle, or a palace. No, just a small, bland, creaky fortress where no one could bother me. Where I could breathe.
That fantasy lasted exactly three minutes.
Because the second I pushed open the door, dragging my suitcase in behind me, I realized my fortress was already under siege.
The girl inside didn’t even look up right away. She was perched on the edge of the bed nearest the window, legs crossed, blonde hair swinging down her back as she typed furiously on her phone. Music blared from a Bluetooth speaker, the bass rattling my bones.
When she finally did notice me, it was with the slow, unimpressed glance of someone evaluating an insect.
“Oh,” she said flatly. “You must be Olive.”
I hesitated in the doorway. “Yeah. And you are…?”
“Your roommate. Mandy.”
She went back to her phone without another word.
I forced a smile, trying to ignore the pit already forming in my stomach. “Nice to meet you. So, uh, any rules you wanna set? Lights out, quiet hours, fridge space?”
Olive. Shut up. Who cares if it's awkward? Just stay mute already.
Mandy snorted, snapping her gum. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t do quiet. I don’t do sharing snacks. And if my boyfriend sleeps over, you deal.” She finally looked at me then, eyes sharp as razor. “Got it?”
My smile froze. “I...what?”
She shrugged, already back on her phone. “You heard me. This is basically my room. You’re just the plus-one Crestwood shoved in here.”
I stood there like an i***t, clutching the handle of my backpack, while my carefully imagined fortress crumbled to dust.
★
The next twelve hours was a study in torture.
First, Mandy turned the music up so loud that my desk lamp actually vibrated. Then she took a three-hour phone call, laughing and shrieking while I tried to unpack since I couldn't do that earlier, as I had to rush to class. By midnight, I had headphones shoved so deep into my ears I thought they’d fuse with my skull.
And then...then...her boyfriend showed up.
He was tall, cocky, smelled like Axe body spray and cheap beer. He barged in, dropped his muddy sneakers on my bed, and grabbed the box of Oreos I’d just bought.
“Yo, babe, this your new roomie?” he asked, talking around a mouthful of my cookies.
Mandy just giggled. “Yeah, don’t mind her.”
I minded. Oh, I minded so much.
By two a.m., the sounds of their 'sleepover' were loud enough to make me want to claw my ears off. I spent the night curled on the desk chair, staring at the ceiling, wondering if it was too late to drop out and join the convent.
The next morning, fueled by rage, I marched into the housing administration office.
The woman behind the desk blinked at me over her glasses. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. “My roommate is Satan. I need to be reassigned.”
She shuffled some papers, clicking on her computer. “What seems to be the issue?”
“She blasts music until three a.m. Her boyfriend basically lives there. And she ate my Oreos.”
The woman gave me a long, unimpressed look. “The university doesn’t reassign rooms for minor conflicts.”
“Minor?” I gasped. “He put his shoes on my bed!”
"What room is that again?" she asked. I spat out the details, fuming.
She sighed, tapping at the keyboard. “There does seem to have been a clerical error. You weren’t supposed to be placed in that room at all.”
Relief washed through me so fast my knees almost buckled. “Oh thank God. So where’s my real room?”
She clicked a few more times. “Private housing wing. A suite just opened after an exchange student transferred.”
Private housing. That sounded…fancy. Too fancy for someone living on scholarship.
“Are you sure?” I asked suspiciously.
She adjusted her glasses. “It’s closer to the athletic facilities.”
My stomach twisted. "How close?”
She gave me a brittle smile. “You’ll be sharing a suite with Ross and Hugo Baker.”
The world tilted. My heart plummeted to my shoes.
“No,” I said instantly. “Absolutely not. I’ll live in a broom closet. I’ll sleep in the library. I’ll.....”
“Miss Tross.” Her voice sharpened. “Your scholarship contract requires you to reside in university-assigned housing. If you refuse, your scholarship is forfeit.”
My lungs stopped working.
The universe was a mother-f*****g b***h.
★
I remained dazed all through the day. The classes went by in a blur, and I couldn't remember anything that was said, even if my life depended on it. But even that wasn't enough to change my embarrassing fate.
By evening, I was standing in front of the private housing wing, suitcase handle slick with sweat.
Ross and Hugo lived here. The same two guys who had wrecked my sense of sanity and my self-control less than.....how many days ago?
And now? They were my roommates.
Roommates. Even the word now sounded so traumatic.
“This is a nightmare,” I muttered, swiping the key card.
The door swung open to reveal a sleek, modern suite that looked nothing like a dorm. Leather couch. Massive flatscreen. A kitchen stocked with groceries that didn’t come from the instant ramen aisle.
It screamed wealth. Privilege. The kind of life I’d never had.
Ross was sprawled across the couch, long legs stretched, flipping through a basketball playbook. He looked up, smirk sliding into place like it had been waiting for me.
“Welcome home, Olive.”
Home. My blood boiled.
Hugo emerged from the kitchen, dark eyes unreadable as he popped the cap off a water bottle. He leaned against the counter, watching me like he could see straight through my bones.
“This isn’t happening,” I snapped. “Admin screwed up. I’ll fix it tomorrow.”
“Good luck with that,” Ross said casually, tossing the playbook aside. “They don’t usually move scholarship kids twice. Too much paperwork.”
My stomach dropped.
Hugo smirked faintly, sipping his water. “Guess you’re stuck with us.”
Living with the Bakers was war. One night was barely over and I'd seen the real definition of hell.
They left weights in the hallway, so I tripped. They blasted music at ungodly hours. They stole the couch, the remote, even the last slice of pizza I’d hidden in the fridge.
And every time I snapped, they just laughed.
Petty fights. Snide remarks.
Like a few hours ago. Ross wandered into the kitchen while I was making tea.
“You know that’s our kettle, right?” he said, leaning against the counter.
“It’s everyone’s kettle,” I shot back.
“Not really.” His grin widened. “You didn’t buy it.”
I slammed the cupboard. “Do I have to pay rent on oxygen too, or are you still letting me breathe for free?”
Ross laughed like I was the most entertaining thing he’d ever seen.
And Hugo just....ugh. Please don’t get me started on Hugo.
Because under all the snark and slammed doors and eye-rolls, there was something else simmering.
Attraction.
A dangerous, reckless pull I couldn’t smother no matter how hard I tried.
I'd given up on having any sleep at this point. My first night was a huge fail, I came to accept it. I lifted my eyes to the clock. It wasn't even 12 a.m yet. All the suffering and it wasn't even near dawn yet.
I perched on the arm of the couch pretending to study and Ross popped up out of nowhere tossing a basketball in the air and catching it with lazy precision.
“Frat party tomorrow,” he said casually, like it wasn’t a command. “You’re coming.”
I looked up, incredulous. “Excuse me?”
“You live here now. That makes you part of the circle.”
“No thanks.”
Ross grinned. “Wasn’t a question.”
My jaw dropped. “You can’t just..."
Hugo’s chuckle cut through the room. He was leaning in the doorway, that damn knowing smirk curving his mouth.
“Oh, he can,” he said softly. “And we both know you’ll come.”
Heat flushed my face. f**k him. It was annoying.
Because Hugo wasn’t wrong.
And I didn't like the way anything was going.
- Writer
