Ethan's POV
I stared at the video on my phone for the tenth time, my hands shaking with anger.
Adrian had paid someone. Actually paid money to make sure we were roommates. This wasn't an accident or bad luck. He'd planned this whole thing.
But why?
The door burst open and Adrian rushed in, his face pale and his breath coming fast like he'd been running. His eyes immediately found mine, wide and almost... scared?
Good. He should be scared.
"Ethan, I—" he started.
"Save it." I shoved my phone in his face, the video paused on the exact moment he handed money to Mrs. Peterson. "Want to explain this?"
Adrian went completely still. All the color drained from his face. "Where did you get that?"
"Does it matter? You lied to me. You bribed someone to trap me here with you!" My voice got louder with each word. "What kind of sick game are you playing?"
"It's not a game," Adrian said quietly, but he wouldn't look at me.
"Then what is it? Why would you do this?" I waited, but he just stood there silent. "ANSWER ME!"
"I can't!" Adrian shouted back, and I'd never heard him yell before. Never seen him lose control. "I can't explain it, okay? Just—just leave it alone."
"Leave it alone?" I laughed, but nothing was funny. "You manipulated everything to force me to live with you, and you want me to leave it alone?"
Adrian's jaw clenched. "Fine. You want to know why? Maybe I'm just messing with you. Maybe I thought it would be entertaining to watch you suffer. Is that what you want to hear?"
The words hit me like a slap. So that was it. This was all just another way for Adrian Vale to prove he was better than me. He could even control where I lived.
"You're unbelievable," I said, my voice shaking. "You know what? Fine. You want to play games? Let's play."
I grabbed my suitcase and threw it on the worse bed—the one away from the window that Adrian had obviously left for me on purpose. I started unpacking aggressively, throwing clothes into the small dresser.
"What are you doing?" Adrian asked.
"What does it look like? I'm unpacking. Since I'm stuck here with you, we're going to need rules."
"Rules?"
"Yeah. Rules." I yanked open a drawer. "Like you stay on your side of the room, and I stay on mine. We don't talk unless necessary. We pretend the other person doesn't exist."
Something flashed across Adrian's face—hurt, maybe—but I didn't care. He deserved it.
"That's childish," Adrian said.
"So is bribing someone to be your roommate!" I shot back.
We glared at each other, the tension so thick I could barely breathe.
Then Adrian did something that made me even angrier—he smiled. That infuriating smirk that made me want to throw something at his perfect face.
"Fine," he said coldly. "If that's how you want to do this, we'll do it your way."
He walked to his desk and pulled out a roll of blue painter's tape. "Where do you want the line?"
"What?"
"The line dividing the room. You want to stay on your side, I stay on mine—we need a line." He held up the tape. "So where do you want it?"
I couldn't believe he was actually doing this. But fine. Two could play this game.
"Right down the middle," I said. "Exactly fifty-fifty."
Adrian measured the room carefully, then stuck tape from the door to the back wall, creating a perfect line down the center. The room looked ridiculous, split in half like we were five-year-olds.
"There," Adrian said. "Happy now?"
"Thrilled."
We both started unpacking on our respective sides, the silence heavy and angry. Every time Adrian moved, I was aware of him. Every time he opened a drawer or hung something up, I wanted to scream.
An hour passed. Then two.
Finally, everything was unpacked. My side looked messy and lived-in. Adrian's side looked like a magazine photo—perfect and organized.
Of course it did.
"I need to use the bathroom," Adrian said suddenly.
"So use it."
"It's on your side."
I looked. He was right—the bathroom door was technically on my half of the room by about two inches.
"Seriously?" I said. "You're going to—"
"Rules are rules," Adrian said with that smirk again. "You made them."
Fine. I grabbed more tape and created a path from Adrian's side to the bathroom door. "There. A hallway. Use it only when necessary."
"This is insane," Adrian muttered, but he used the taped path anyway.
When he came out, his hair was damp like he'd splashed water on his face. For just a second, he looked tired. Really tired, like he hadn't slept in days.
Stop it, I told myself. Don't feel sorry for him. He did this to himself.
Night came fast. I changed into pajamas on my side while Adrian changed on his. We didn't look at each other. Didn't speak.
I climbed into bed and turned off my lamp. Adrian did the same.
The room went dark and silent.
I lay there staring at the ceiling, hyper-aware of Adrian breathing across the room. In and out. Steady and calm like nothing was wrong.
How could he sleep? How could he lie there so peacefully after everything?
My phone buzzed on my nightstand. I grabbed it quickly.
A text from that same unknown number: "Enjoying your first night together? Things are about to get much more interesting. -V"
My stomach dropped. V. The same person who'd sent me the video.
Who was V? And what did they want?
Another text: "Check under Adrian's pillow. He's hiding something from you. Something you NEED to see."
I sat up slowly, my heart pounding. Adrian's breathing stayed steady—he was asleep.
I should ignore it. Should delete the message and go to sleep.
But I couldn't stop thinking about it. What was Adrian hiding?
I slipped out of bed quietly and stepped over the tape line. My feet moved silently across the floor toward Adrian's bed.
He was asleep, his face peaceful in the moonlight coming through the window. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and he looked younger somehow. Less like my rival and more like... just a person.
Stop it. Focus.
I reached toward his pillow carefully, my fingers sliding underneath. They touched something flat and smooth. Paper.
I pulled it out slowly, praying Adrian wouldn't wake up.
It was a letter. Old and folded many times, the edges worn soft.
My hands shook as I unfolded it, using my phone's light to read the words.
The handwriting was young, messy, like a child had written it:
"Dear Adrian,
My mom says we can't be friends anymore because you always beat me at everything. She says I should focus on other kids who don't make me feel bad.
But you don't make me feel bad. Not really. I just wish sometimes I could win. Just once.
I'm moving away to a different school tomorrow. Mom says it's better for me.
I won't tell you I'm leaving. You'll probably be happy anyway.
-Ethan
Age 8"
My breath caught in my throat.
I'd written this letter thirteen years ago, after Mom pulled me out of our elementary school because she said competing with Adrian was "unhealthy for my self-esteem."
I'd written it but never sent it. I'd thrown it away.
So how did Adrian have it?
I flipped the letter over. On the back, in different handwriting—Adrian's handwriting, also young and messy—were words I'd never seen before:
"I found this in the trash. Ethan doesn't know I kept it.
He thinks I'm happy he's gone. But I cried for three days.
I don't know how to tell him I wasn't competing against him. I just wanted him to notice me.
I wanted to be his friend.
I still do.
-Adrian
Age 8"
The world tilted sideways.
Adrian had kept my letter for thirteen years. Had written his own response on the back. Had carried this around all this time.
"I just wanted him to notice me."
"I wanted to be his friend."
Nothing made sense anymore.
"Ethan?"
I spun around. Adrian was awake, sitting up in bed, staring at me holding his letter.
His face went through so many emotions—shock, fear, sadness, something else I couldn't name.
"That's..." he whispered. "You weren't supposed to see that."
"Why do you have this?" My voice cracked. "Why did you keep it?"
Adrian's hands clenched the blanket. "Give it back."
"Not until you explain—"
"Give it back!" He jumped out of bed and crossed the tape line, moving fast.
I backed up, still holding the letter. "Tell me the truth! All of it!"
"You want the truth?" Adrian's eyes were wild, desperate. "Fine! I kept it because it was the only proof that you ever thought about me! The only time you wrote my name like I mattered to you instead of just being your competition!"
"That's not—"
"Every competition, every race, every game we played—I didn't care about winning!" Adrian's voice broke. "I cared about you looking at me! Paying attention to me! Because when you competed against me, at least I existed to you!"
My brain couldn't process his words. "You're not making sense—"
"I'm in love with you!" Adrian shouted, and the whole world stopped. "I've been in love with you since we were kids, and you've never seen it because you were too busy hating me!"
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't—
My phone buzzed violently in my hand. Both our phones buzzed at the same time.
A message appeared on my screen: "Beautiful confession, Adrian. Too bad everyone's about to see it. Check your email. Both of you. -V"
Adrian grabbed his phone with shaking hands. His face went white.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no—"
"What? What is it?"
"They recorded it." Adrian looked at me, his eyes full of panic. "Someone recorded my confession. They're sending it to everyone."
"What?"
Adrian showed me his phone. An email from V with an attachment labeled: "Adrian Vale's Secret - Watch Before It's Deleted!"
The email was sent to what looked like hundreds of addresses. The entire school.
"They set us up," Adrian said, his voice hollow. "The letter, the message telling you to find it—they wanted me to confess so they could record it."
"But who—"
A laugh echoed from somewhere in the hallway outside our door. Cold and cruel.
Then a voice I didn't recognize called out: "Sleep tight, boys. Tomorrow's going to be very interesting."
Footsteps ran away.
Adrian and I stood frozen, staring at each other, his confession hanging between us like a bomb.
And somewhere out there, someone was watching. Waiting.
Planning something worse.