Ethan's POV
The paper slipped from my fingers.
I stared at the words on my phone screen, reading them over and over, hoping they'd change. Hoping I was seeing things wrong. But no matter how many times I blinked, the message stayed the same:
Room 304 - Ethan Cross & Adrian Vale
"No," I whispered. My chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing my lungs. "No, no, no, this can't be happening."
Adrian Vale. Of all the people in this entire university—thousands of students—I got Adrian freaking Vale as my roommate.
My hands shook as I shoved my phone into my pocket and ran. The welcome fair buzzed around me with music and laughter, but I didn't care. I pushed through crowds of happy students, my heart pounding like a drum. The housing office. I needed to get to the housing office right now.
This was supposed to be my fresh start. My chance to finally be someone other than "the kid who always loses to Adrian Vale."
But no. The universe hated me.
I burst through the housing office door so hard it banged against the wall. The lady behind the desk jumped, her coffee almost spilling.
"I need to change my room assignment!" The words exploded out of me. "Please, there's been a huge mistake!"
The lady—her name tag said Mrs. Peterson—pulled up something on her computer. She looked tired, like she'd heard this a million times today. "Name?"
"Ethan Cross. Room 304. I can't—I can't room with Adrian Vale. Anyone else. Literally anyone else in the entire school."
Mrs. Peterson clicked her mouse a few times. Her face stayed blank. "I'm sorry, but all assignments are final. We spent months organizing roommates based on personality surveys and—"
"Then your survey is broken!" I slammed my hands on her desk, then immediately felt bad because she flinched. "Sorry. I'm sorry. But you don't understand. Adrian and I... we can't live together. We just can't."
"Why not? Is there a safety concern?"
"No, but—"
"Have you been threatened?"
"Not exactly—"
"Then I can't help you." Mrs. Peterson gave me a sympathetic look that made me want to scream. "Give it a chance. Most students think they want different roommates at first, but then they become best friends."
Best friends? With Adrian Vale? She clearly had no idea what she was talking about.
I left the office feeling like my whole world was crashing down. Students walked past me, smiling and excited. They probably all got normal roommates. Nice roommates. Roommates who wouldn't make their lives miserable.
I sat on a bench and put my head in my hands.
Adrian Vale had been ruining my life since we were five years old.
I remembered kindergarten—the stupid crayon sorting contest. We had to organize crayons by color as fast as possible. I was so close to winning. My pile was perfect. Then the teacher called time and Adrian's pile was bigger. He got a gold star. I got nothing.
"Good try, Ethan," Adrian had said, smiling.
I hated that smile.
First grade—the spelling bee. I studied so hard my mom had to force me to go to bed. I made it to the final round. Me and Adrian. The word was "triumph." I was so nervous I spelled it wrong. Adrian spelled it right.
He won. Again.
Third grade—the science fair. Fifth grade—the track meet where I trained for months and Adrian still beat my time by three seconds. Eighth grade—the debate championship where Adrian destroyed my arguments in front of everyone.
Every. Single. Time.
And it wasn't just school stuff. Our parents were friends. They always compared us.
"Adrian got straight A's again," my mom would say at dinner. "Maybe you should study with him, Ethan."
"Adrian won the math competition. Why don't you try harder?"
"Adrian got into Crestwood University early admission. You should be more like him."
More like him. Always more like him.
I clenched my fists. Coming to Crestwood was supposed to change everything. Adrian had gotten early admission, but he'd told our parents he was taking a gap year to "find himself" or whatever. I thought I was finally free.
But no. He'd lied. He was here. And now he was my roommate.
I stood up slowly and started walking toward the dorms. Each step felt heavier than the last. Building C loomed ahead of me, tall and brick and full of students moving in with their families.
My parents couldn't come today. Dad had work. Mom had her book club. They'd shipped my stuff ahead and told me to "be responsible."
I climbed the stairs to the third floor alone, dragging my suitcase behind me. It bumped on each step—thump, thump, thump—like a countdown to my doom.
Room 304.
I stood outside the door, my hand on the handle. Maybe Adrian wasn't here yet. Maybe I could unpack fast and claim the good bed before he arrived. Maybe—
I opened the door.
Adrian sat on the bed by the window—the better bed—already completely unpacked. His clothes hung neatly in the closet. His books lined the shelf. His laptop sat open on the desk.
He looked up when I entered, and for just a second, something flashed across his face. Something I couldn't read. But then his expression changed into that familiar smirk. That infuriating, confident smirk that made me want to punch something.
"Well, well," Adrian said, leaning back against his pillows like he owned the place. "Look who finally showed up."
His voice was deeper than I remembered. Had it always been that deep? And his hair was different—longer, messier, like he'd just rolled out of bed. He wore a simple black shirt, but somehow he made it look expensive.
He looked... different. Older. But his eyes were the same—sharp and gray and always, always watching me like I was some kind of puzzle he was trying to solve.
"What are you doing here?" I managed to say. My voice came out angry, which was good because inside I felt like crying. "You said you were taking a gap year!"
Adrian shrugged. "I changed my mind."
"You changed your mind," I repeated slowly. "You just happened to change your mind and end up at Crestwood. And you just happened to end up as my roommate."
"Lucky coincidence." But something in his tone made it sound like it wasn't a coincidence at all.
My stomach twisted. "What did you do?"
"What do you mean?" Adrian's face was innocent. Too innocent.
"Did you—" I stepped closer, my hands shaking with anger. "Did you request to be my roommate? Did you plan this?"
Adrian stood up. He was taller than me now—when had that happened?—and suddenly the room felt very small. He walked toward me slowly, and I wanted to back up but refused to give him the satisfaction.
He stopped right in front of me. Close enough that I could smell his cologne—something woody and expensive that made my head fuzzy.
"Why would I do that?" Adrian asked softly. His eyes locked on mine, and I couldn't look away. "Why would I possibly want to room with someone who hates me?"
My heart was pounding so hard I thought he might hear it. "I don't—"
"You do," Adrian interrupted. "You've hated me since kindergarten. Every time I talk to you, you look at me like I ruined your life."
"Because you did!" The words burst out before I could stop them. "Everything I try to do, you do it better! Every single time! And now you're here, in my room, taking my fresh start away from me!"
Adrian's jaw clenched. For a moment, he looked angry. Then hurt. Then something else I couldn't name.
"Your fresh start," he repeated quietly. "Right."
He turned away from me and grabbed his jacket from his bed. "I'm going out. Unpack wherever you want. I don't care."
He walked past me toward the door, and I should have felt relieved. I should have felt happy he was leaving.
But instead, I felt weird. Hollow.
"Adrian—"
He stopped with his hand on the doorknob but didn't turn around.
"Why did you really come here?" I asked. "The truth."
Adrian was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn't answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was strange. Sad, almost.
"Maybe I was tired of running away from things."
Then he left, closing the door softly behind him.
I stood alone in our room—our room, I had to live with him for an entire year—trying to understand what just happened.
Running away from what? What was that supposed to mean?
I walked to the window and looked out. Three floors down, Adrian emerged from the building. He walked across the campus quad with his hands in his pockets, his head down.
Someone called his name—a tall guy with bright red hair. Adrian looked up and smiled, but it wasn't his usual confident smirk. It was smaller. Sadder.
Who was Adrian Vale when I wasn't around to compete with him?
My phone buzzed. A text from Maya: "Did you see Emma Sterling yet? She's even prettier in person! 😍"
Emma Sterling. Right. The campus belle everyone talked about. The most beautiful girl at Crestwood.
I looked back out the window, but Adrian had disappeared into the crowd.
Something twisted in my chest—something uncomfortable that I didn't want to think about.
I texted Maya back: "Not yet. Roommate problems. I'll explain later."
I threw myself onto the remaining bed—the worse bed, of course—and stared at the ceiling.
One year. I had to survive one year living with Adrian Vale.
How hard could it be?
My phone buzzed again. Another text, but not from Maya. From an unknown number:
"Welcome to Crestwood, Ethan. Let the games begin. -AV"
I sat up so fast my head spun.
Games? What games?
I looked at Adrian's side of the room—perfectly organized, everything in its place. My eyes caught on something I hadn't noticed before.
A photo tucked into the corner of his desk.
I shouldn't look. I should respect his privacy.
But my feet moved on their own, carrying me across the invisible line dividing our room.
The photo was old, the edges worn like someone had held it a lot. It showed two little boys at a park, maybe five or six years old. One had messy brown hair and a huge smile.
Me.
The other boy stood slightly apart, hands in his pockets, watching the first boy with an expression I'd never seen on young Adrian's face before.
He looked... sad. Lonely.
Why did Adrian Vale have an old photo of us hidden on his desk?
And why did he look at me like that?
My phone buzzed a third time. Another text from the same unknown number:
"Check your email. You're going to want to see this."
My hands trembled as I opened my email app. One new message, sent five minutes ago. No subject line.
I clicked it.
It was a video file.
I pressed play.
The video showed the housing office—Mrs. Peterson's office—but from weeks ago based on the date stamp. The camera angle suggested it was from a security camera.
A figure walked into the office. My breath caught.
Adrian.
Video-Adrian talked to Mrs. Peterson, handed her something—was that money?—and pointed at a computer screen. Mrs. Peterson nodded, typed something, and smiled.
Adrian had bribed her. He'd actually bribed the housing office to make sure we were roommates.
But why?
The video ended, and a final text appeared:
"Still think it was a coincidence? Some advice: Adrian Vale always gets what he wants. The question is... what does he want from you?"
The phone slipped from my hands and clattered to the floor.
Outside, storm clouds gathered over Crestwood University, dark and heavy with secrets.
And somewhere in those clouds, I heard Adrian's voice echoing in my head:
"Maybe I was tired of running away from things."
What was he running from?
Or worse—what was he running toward?