Rooming with the Enemy

Astrid Sinclair

The small bedroom Joshua had given me was barely large enough to fit a twin bed and a desk, but right now, it was my entire world. I knelt on the hard concrete floor, pulling my meager belongings out of my worn-out suitcases. I smoothed out three thrifted sweaters and stacked my color-coded notebooks onto the desk.

On top of the pile lay my organic chemistry textbook. It had cost me $180 used, a brutal blow that had practically cleaned out my checking account. Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock sharp was my midterm exam. It was worth forty percent of my final grade. If I flunked it, my pre-med advisor would officially drop me from the track, and my parents would have every excuse to cut me off completely.

"Just focus," I whispered to myself, rubbing my tired eyes. "You can do this. Just a few hours of quiet review."

I sat down, opening the book to the chapter on reaction mechanisms. I had just started highlighting a line when the floor beneath my chair began to vibrate.

A low, deep thump rattled my desk.

I paused, my highlighter hovering over the page. The thump morphed into a violent, rhythmic pounding that shook the very glass of my bedroom window. Bass. Heavy, agonizingly loud bass. Within seconds, the muffled sound of shouting, laughing, and clinking glasses cut straight through my bedroom door.

I checked my phone. It was 8:30 PM.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I muttered.

I stood up, threw my bedroom door open, and stepped out into the hallway. The sight that greeted me made my jaw drop. The pristine, luxury living room was completely unrecognizable. At least forty college students were packed into the open space. The expensive white quartz island was covered in bottles of cheap vodka, light beer cans, and stacks of red solo cups. Sticky liquid was already pooling on the polished concrete floors. A strobe light was flashing against the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the music was so loud I could feel it in my teeth.

I marched through the crowd, shoving past a guy in a varsity jacket who spilled his drink near my shoes. I spotted Joshua by the kitchen sink, looking utterly overwhelmed as he handed out solo cups.

"Joshua!" I yelled over the roaring music, grabbing his arm.

He jumped, turning to look at me with wide, guilty eyes. "Astrid! Hey! I didn't know you were out of your room!"

"What the hell is this?" I screamed, gesturing wildly to the crowd. "You told me this place was quiet! I have a major organic chemistry midterm in less than twelve hours!"

"I-I know, I'm sorry!" Joshua shouted back, wincing. "I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen. It's his birthday week, and he just texted the whole swim team to come over!"

"Where is he?" I demanded, my blood boiling.

Joshua pointed toward the leather sectional. Sitting right in the center of the chaos, surrounded by three laughing girls in tight dresses, was Calix Russo. He was wearing a dark designer t-shirt, a smirk plastered across his handsome face as he threw back a shot.

I stormed over to the couch, stopping right in front of him. I crossed my arms, glaring down at him with every ounce of fury I possessed. "Calix. We need to talk. Right now."

Calix slowly tilted his head back, his dark eyes locking onto mine. The girls around him went quiet, sensing the sudden spike in tension. He didn't look angry; he looked entirely amused.

"Well, look who finally decided to join the real world," Calix drawled, his voice cutting through the noise with effortless arrogance. "Want a drink, Sinclair? Or are you too uptight for fun?"

"Turn the music down," I said, my voice shaking with rage. "I don't care if you want to get wasted, but throw this party somewhere else. I have a career-defining exam tomorrow morning at eight."

Calix let out a short, mocking laugh. He stood up slowly, towering over me, a red cup dangling from his fingers. "Let me explain how this works, sweetheart. I don't care about your exam. I don't care about your schedule. This is my apartment. If I want to throw a party, I throw a party."

"I pay rent here!" I snapped, stepping closer, refusing to back down. "Four hundred dollars a month gives me the right to sleep in my own room without my walls vibrating!"

"Four hundred dollars?" Calix sneered, leaning down so his face was inches from mine. "That's pocket change. You bought a room, Sinclair. You didn't buy a voice. If you can't handle the noise, pack your little trash bags and go sleep in the campus library."

"You are a selfish, entitled prick," I whispered, the profanity slipping out before I could stop it. "You think because your family owns the building, you can treat people like garbage. Some of us actually have to earn our future."

Calix's smirk vanished, his jaw tightening as his eyes darkened with a flash of genuine anger. "Watch your mouth in my house. Go back to your room, lock the door, and study. Or leave. I really don't give a fuck either way."

Realizing I was fighting a losing battle, I forced myself to turn around. I marched back down the hallway, slammed my bedroom door shut, and locked it. I shoved my noise-canceling headphones over my ears, turned my study playlist to maximum volume, and buried my face in my textbook. But even with the headphones, the heavy bass cut straight through the walls, mocking my desperation. Tears of pure frustration gathered in my eyes as I tried to force the chemical formulas into my brain.

...

Out in the kitchen, away from the roaring crowd by the windows, Joshua cornered Calix by the massive stainless-steel refrigerator. The music was still blasting, but the tension between the two roommates was palpable.

"Are you trying to drive her out on her very first day?" Joshua asked, his voice laced with frustration as he gripped a clean towel. "What the fuck, Calix? She was crying when she walked back to her room."

Calix took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling back on Joshua. His expression was cold, but there was a flicker of irritation in his jawline. "She's annoying. She thinks she can move into my space and start dictating terms."

"She's a student trying to pass a class!" Joshua hissed, stepping closer so the guests wouldn't overhear. "And you're the one who told me to find a subletter in the first place! You practically begged me to find someone last week."

Calix glared at him over the rim of his cup. "That was entirely confidential, Collins."

"Well, it's just the two of us talking," Joshua argued, throwing his hands up. "You told me your father tightened the screws on your trust fund and that your personal seasonal bills were soaring. You said you needed someone to cover the extra eight hundred dollars a month for utilities and building fees because you were short on cash this semester. I found you a tenant who paid upfront without asking questions!"

"I told you to find a roommate," Calix growled, his voice dropping into a dangerous register. "I expected a guy. A swimmer, or a soccer player from the athletic house. Someone who would drink a beer, keep his mouth shut, and stay out of my way. I didn't expect you to bring a fragile, beautiful pre-med girl into my apartment who looks at me like I'm a goddamn criminal."

Joshua stared at him, a sudden smirk breaking through his anxiety. "So you admit she's beautiful?"

"Shut the fuck up, Joshua," Calix snapped, his knuckles turning white around his cup. "She doesn't belong here. She’s distracting, she’s rigid, and she’s going to be a problem. I'm just making sure she knows exactly who handles the rules in this place."

"By ruining her exam?" Joshua shook his head, turning back to the counter. "That's low, even for you."

Calix didn't answer. He turned his back to the kitchen, his dark eyes drifting down the dark hallway toward Astrid's closed door, his mind completely unreadable.

...

Astrid Sinclair

It was 11:45 PM. The party showed absolutely no signs of stopping. If anything, the crowd had grown larger, and the air in the apartment smelled heavily of stale alcohol and cheap weed. I sat on the edge of my bed, my head buried in my hands. It was impossible. I couldn't memorize a single mechanism with the walls shaking like an earthquake.

Giving up, I pulled off my headphones and decided to go to the kitchen to grab a glass of water to clear my throat.

Before my feet could even touch the floor, a heavy thud rattled my bedroom door.

I froze, my heart instantly leaping into my throat.

The silver doorknob began to jiggle violently. Someone was twisting it from the outside, throwing their weight against the wood.

"Yo, is someone in here?" a slurred, aggressive male voice shouted from the hallway. "Hey! Let me in! The main bathrooms are totally packed, and I need to crash in here with this girl!"

The lock clicked uncomfortably under the pressure. The wood groaned as the drunk guy rammed his shoulder against the door frame.

Panic exploded in my chest. My breath caught, and a cold sweat broke out across my skin. I backed away toward the window, my hands trembling.

"I-I... there's someone in here!" I called out, my voice cracking with absolute terror. "Go away! The door is locked!"

"Come on, open the fucking door!" the guy roared, hitting the wood even harder. The frame shuddered, a small crack appearing near the top latch. The lock was cheap, and under his weight, it was about to give way. "Just open it up!"

"P-please, stop!" I cried out, my voice breaking completely as tears finally spilled over my cheeks. I was trapped. I had nowhere to run.

The handle twisted with a violent, final snap. The lock broke, and the door flew open an inch, revealing the shadowed face of a massive, drunk frat guy grinning down at me.

"There we go," he chuckled slurringly, reaching his hand inside to force the door wide open.

I let out a gasp, shielding my face.

Smack.

A sudden, violent sound echoed through the hallway. Before the guy could take a single step into my room, a massive, tanned hand with defined, angry veins slammed flat against the wooden door frame right above the guy's head.

The sheer force of the impact shook the wall.

"Get your fucking hands off her door," a deadly, freezing voice commanded from the shadows.

It was Calix.

He stood in the hallway, his towering frame completely blocking the light. His jaw was set in a rigid line, his dark eyes burning with a terrifying, protective fury I hadn't seen before. He gripped the collar of the drunk guy's shirt, pulling him away from my room with one effortless, violent jerk.

"Calix, man, I was just—" the guy stammered, his face instantly turning pale.

"Out," Calix whispered, his voice dangerously low as he pinned the guy against the hallway wall. "Get the fuck out of my apartment before I personally throw you off the balcony."