~Hallie~
Chug, chug, chug!
The chant echoed down the hallway as Ariana pulled me into the thick of it, the air hitting me like a wall, sweat, cheap perfume, spilled beer, and the faint scents of both cigarettes and marijuana. It was overwhelming, clawing at my senses.
I had never been a party girl. Between the endless grind of med school prep and my parents' iron grip on my schedule, no dates, no fun, just "focus on your future", this kind of chaos was alien territory.
Ariana, though? She was in her element. Weaving through the crowd like she had done this a thousand times, waving at people, laughing at jokes I didn't catch. She thrust a red cup into my hand almost immediately.
"Here, loosen up a bit. It's okay."
I sniffed it cautiously. "Thanks." It smelled...fruity? Not quite boozy. It turned out to be kombucha, some hipster brand with a fancy label. Ariana winked at me. "I figured you weren't ready for the hard stuff yet."
Smart girl.
The noise was deafening, bass rattling my ribs, people shouting over each other, laughter exploding in bursts. Bodies pressed too close, someone sloshing beer on my shoe. I lasted maybe ten minutes, sipping my drink, nodding along as Ariana introduced me to a blur of faces.
Then it got too much, and I had to jet. "I need air," I muttered, but she was already pulled into a group hug with some girls squealing about shots.
I slipped away, weaving through the crowd until I found a quieter side room, probably someone's lounge area. It had dim lights, a sagging sofa against the wall, and I collapsed onto it, exhaling like I had been holding my breath for hours.
I glanced at my watch, wondering what time it was: 11:45. Perfect. Roman's mysterious vanishing act should kick in soon.
"You."
The voice came from the shadows by the door, filled with amusement.
I yelped, jolting upright, and promptly spilled half my kombucha down my shirt. It was a cold and sticky mess. Great going, Hallie. Some first impression.
I shot to my feet, wiping futilely at the stain, and glared into the dimness.
"Hello?" I called out.
And there he was, leaning against the doorframe with his hands folded across his chest. Roman. Now wearing a long-sleeved black shirt that hugged every line of his torso, sleeves pushed up to show toned forearms. His hair was still messy, and his piercings caught the low light, his signature infuriating smirk firmly in place.
I scoffed. "Seriously? You're stalking me now."
He tilted his head, green eyes sparkling with pure entertainment. "This is a party, Red. Public space."
I rolled my eyes. What a new and fresh nickname.
I tried to brush past him. "How original. Move."
His hand shot out immediately and wrapped around my wrist. A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and he flashed his teeth. "Now you're a lively one, aren't you?"
Heat flared in my cheeks, anger, mostly. Yeah, definitely anger. "Fuck you."
He didn't let go, and his eyes were still sparkling. "Buy me a drink first."
"What?" I sputtered, completely flustered. The nerve of this guy. "Wait. I didn't mean— I—"
He released me gently, a chuckle vibrating through his chest. God, why did he have to be so unfairly hot? He was smug and an asshole. It wasn't fair. "Relax. We got off to a bad start earlier." He stretched out a hand, trying and failing to be polite. "I'm Roman. Roman D'Amaris. And you are...?"
I stared at his hand like it might bite me, anger bubbling up fresh. This guy had zero shame.
I stepped closer, in his space, close enough to smell whatever cologne he wore and hissed, "I'm the girl whose bed you were defiling five minutes ago, you entitled prick."
Then I shoved past him, shoulder bumping his chest.
Yeah, that was definitely a bad move, and I regretted my decision immediately. The hallway was packed, bodies pressing in from all sides, and I collided hard with a wall of a guy. Huge, black hair flopping over his eyes, sleeveless hoodie showing off arms like tree trunks. He reeked of tequila and sweat, swaying as he grinned down at me.
"Hey, baby. You lost?" His hand clamped on my arm before I could step back, fingers digging in hard. He pulled me closer, and the stench of alcohol made my stomach turn. "Lemme help you find your way."
My heart kicked into overdrive. "I'm fine, let go—"
But he wasn't listening. His grip tightened, yanking me against his chest. "Don't be like that. Just wanna talk." His other hand slid toward my waist, fingers brushing my hip.
Panic spiked through me, and the noise of the party seemed to fade into a dull roar. My throat closed up. I tried to pull back, but he was so much bigger, and the crowd pressed in around us, oblivious. Nobody was paying attention. Nobody cared.
"I said let go." My voice came out shakier than I wanted, and I hated it. I twisted in his grip, trying to wrench my arm free, but he just laughed, this gross, wet sound that made my skin crawl.
"Feisty. I like that—"
Before I could say anything else, before I could scream or knee him or do something, Roman was there. He grabbed my other wrist and was suddenly between us, shoving the guy back with one hand like it was nothing. The drunk stumbled, crashing into someone behind him, muttering curses. He tried to lunge forward again, but Roman didn't move. He fixed him with a cold, dead stare that made my gut twist.
The drunk guy froze. Then backed off, hands up, disappearing into the crowd without another word.
"You're welcome," Roman said, turning to me with his smirk again.
I yanked my arm free from his grip. "I can take care of myself."
He smiled slowly at me, his eyes sparkling. It was as though he was approving of me, and I hated how relieved it made me feel. "I don't doubt it, Red."
Then he brushed past me, heading for the exit. "See you tomorrow, roomie." He melted into the crowd and was gone, just like that.
I stood there fuming for a second before rushing back upstairs. Ariana found me halfway, eyes wide.
"Wait—Hallie! Where did you go? I've been looking for you everywhere! You okay?"
"Yeah, just... peopled out." We headed to her room, grabbed my suitcase, and slipped into 312 while it was blissfully empty. Roman's side looked untouched now, the blonde long gone, the bed hastily straightened.
I dumped my stuff on my bed, exhaling.
"So," I said, turning to Ariana as she lingered in the doorway. "Who the hell is Roman, really?"
She giggled, leaning against the frame. "It's kinda cringe and cliché, but...a. lot of folks around here fear him. He can be rather violent when he wants, and he does whatever the hell he pleases. No one really calls him out on it because they're scared of him. Oh yeah, and apparently his father owns the University so."
I rolled my eyes. "So, basic bad boy trope?"
"Yeah, pretty much." She grinned. "Why? You into that?"
"Hard pass." I started unpacking, cleaning the dust from my empty wardrobe. "Do you know what he's majoring in?"
Ariana thought for a second. "Yeah.…psychology, I think. Why?"
I froze, shirt half-folded in my hands.
Fuck my life.