I avoided Room 207 like it was contagious all fucking day.
Skipping lunch to lurk in the library bathroom, pretending to study while my bloody knee scabbed over and my skirt's safety pin kept jabbing my hip like a passive-aggressive reminder of Cassian Vale's stupid face.
Every time someone mentioned "dorm check-in," I'd bolt for the courtyard fountain again… splash, sitting there dripping, ignoring texts from the scholarship office screaming CURFEW 10 PM OR YOU'RE OUT.
By 9:58, stomach growling, bladder screaming, backpack heavier than my regrets, I had zero choice but to face the devil's den… limping up three flights of creaky stairs that smelled like old money and vomit, each step echoing my internal fuckfuckfuckfuck.
I stood outside Room 207, staring at the chipped white paint around the handle like it might bite me first, every cell in my body begging me to turn around instead of walking into a room that currently contained the human embodiment of my worst-case scenario.
But I didn't' need to open the door… it swung wide opened for me by none other than Cassian Vale himself, the golden-boy fuckwit with a smirk sharp enough to cut glass and daddy's money dripping off him like cheap cologne.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, that smug voice dripping with fake surprise, "look who finally dragged her broke-ass charity-case self-back to the scene of the crime."
"Don't flatter yourself, dickhead," I snapped back, shoving past him into the room while my backpack snagged on the doorframe and nearly yanked me ass-over-elbows right into his stupidly chiseled chest.
"Ah, ah, ah," he snapped, grabbing my backpack strap to yank me before I could fully escape into the room, his voice all alpha-asshole authority like he owned the whole goddamn campus, "I'm in charge here, I make the rules, and if you're going to be my roommate, we're definitely having boundaries, scholarship trash."
"What makes you think you're in charge, you trust-fund toddler with a god complex and zero reading comprehension on the roommate agreement?" I shot back, twisting out of his grip while my knee throbbed like a bitch and my skirt hiked up again, flashing half of the room's worth of bad decisions.
"Because this is my room, princess… my names' on the lease, my family's got the dean on speed-dial, and your little scholarship ass is just squatting here until I get bored and have you transferred to the janitor's closet."
"And what kind of rules do you think you can just wash over me, you control-freak caveman?" I snapped, arms crossed tight over my chest like that could shield from his towering frame and the way his eyes raked over me like I was yesterday's trash.
"Well, there are many rules, peasant," he sneered, puffing up his chest like the campus Caesar he thought he was.
"I choose the bed… king-sized for me, closet floor for you; I dictate bathroom schedules down to the piss-drop; I control where your broke feet step in my kingdom; and I get final say on every goddamn thing you do in this room, from breathing too loud to existing in my eyeline."
I only laughed at him… a sharp, disbelieving bark that echoed off the dorm walls like a slap while he glared at me with eyes narrowed to slits, his jaw ticking like a bomb about to blow his whole king-of-the-castle act to hell.
"You think this is some kind of joke?" he snapped, stepping closer until his shadow swallowed me whole, that fake-king glare hardening into something dangerous, like I'd just personally insulted his entire trust-fund dynasty.
"Yeah, I do," I fired back, smirking up at his furious face, "you act like some medieval manbaby with a silver spoon so far up your ass it's controlling your brain cells."
"Well, look here, scholarship trash," he growled, looming over me with that entitled sneer twisting his perfect face, "you've got three seconds to wipe that smirk off before I make your life a living hell you won't scholarship your way out of."
"And how's that?" I asked, chin tilted up in full challenge mode, eyes locked on his like I dared him to back up his big-man threats with anything but more hot air from his spoiled mouth.
"You will find out soon enough, princess," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous as he leaned in close so I could smell his expensive cologne mixed with pure venom, "when I start making your every fucking breath in this room a negotiation you can't afford to lose."
"You're just a pathetic bully hiding behind daddy's credit card, praying someone finally calls your bluff," I spat, refusing to flinch even as his breath ghosted hot against my face.
The rest of the night was pure hell, his rules choking me like a noose… I couldn't breathe without his permission, couldn't unpack my ratty duffle without him barking "not there, peasant," or even a human being without him looming, critiquing my every move like I was his personal poverty porn.
I wondered how the fuck sleeping would even work under his microscope, as he watched me get ready for bed like some creepy night-shift warden, critiquing my every move from toothbrush choice to the way I shook out my threadbare pajamas like I couldn't handle basic human shit on my own.
"I need to call my mom," I muttered, phone already in hand, "I'll be on the balcony… unless that's not allowed for you either, your highness."
"No," he shot back, crossing his arms like a bouncer at his own ego party, "you stay right here… I get to listen to every word you whimper to your mommy, and you've got five minutes on the clock before I yank that privilege too."
"And what happens if I don't listen?" I said, eyes narrowing as I gripped my phone like a lifeline, daring him to escalate his dictator bullshit one more time.
"You don't want to go that far, princess," he said, his voice dropping to that icy warning tone that made my skin crawl, like he was already picturing the punishment he'd invent just to watch me squirm.
"And maybe I do," I said, stepping right into his space with a reckless smirk, challenging him to show me exactly how far his control-freak bullshit could stretch before it snapped.
His eyes flashed with something dark and hungry at my defiance, towering over me as the air crackled thick with tension, his smirk twisting into a predator's promise that made my pulse hammer like I'd just poked the devil with a scholarship stick.
In one lightning move, he grabbed my wrist and spun me back against the bed's edge, pinning me there with his body weight and a grip like iron… his face inches from mine, breath ragged, promising he'd go that far and further to break me if I pushed his king-of-the-room bullshit one more inch.
"You sure do love pinning me, don't you, cavemen?" I gasped out, heart slamming against my ribs as I glared up into his stormy eyes, refusing to let him see how his iron grip and that dangerous heat radiating off him made my skin buzz with something dangerously close to that thrill.
"Maybe because it shuts that smart mouth of yours up for once," he growled back, his grip tightening just enough to make my breath hitch, eyes locked on mine like he was daring me to keep testing how much control he could steal before I begged for mercy.
"Let me go, you overgrown control freak," I hissed through gritted teach, twisting against his iron hold while my heart thundered like it wanted to break free first."
"I will let you go when I want to," he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through his chest into mine, his eyes burning with that possessive fire like he owned every heartbeat I had left to give.
"I just need to call my mom," I groaned, my voice cracking under the weight of his pinning hold, every muscle screaming for air while his smug face hovered too damn close, turning a simple phone call into some twisted power play I never signed up for.
"And you can," he murmured, his grip loosening just a fraction but his body still caging me against the bed like a human vault, "right in front of me, for five minutes… it's not like I'm saying no, princess, just making sure you remember who's holding the keys to your every little freedom in my room."
"But I need privacy, I'm a girl," I spat, shoving at his chest with everything I had left, my voice raw with frustration as his looming frame refusing to budge an inch from my personal space.
"Not in this room," he growled, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk as he finally stepped back just enough for me to breathe, "if you're my roommate, princess, then privacy's the first casualty… get used to performing your little life under my roof or pack your scholarship rags and go."
"They didn't tell me this when they signed me up against my will, you power-tripping psycho," I hissed, rubbing my wrist where his fingers had branded me red, "you can't just hijack my life like some discount dictator and expect me to play obedient peasant in your creepy dorm fiefdom."
"Then your life is going to be a living hell," he snarled, eyes glinting with malicious promise as he backed me into a corner of my own misery, his voice thick with the kind of entitled rage that only comes from never hearing "no" before.
I snatched my phone and dialed Mom anyway, turning my back to his glaring ass as her voice crackled through, asking if college was living the dream.
"Turn around… face me while you talk, princess," he ordered, his hand clamping my shoulder to swivel me like a puppet, eyes drilling into mine under the second line of my choked-up lie.
"Yeah, Mom, it's… perfect," I lied through clenched teeth, feeling his shadow burn holes in my neck while the clock ticked past his stupid five-minute ultimatum.
He didn't move, didn't blink… just stood there like a six-foot warden, ensuring I felt every ounce of his suffocating reign as Mom rambled about grocery money I didn't have.
By the time I hung up, tears pricking but unshed, the room felt smaller than a coffin, his smirk promising endless nights of this psychological torture.
Welcome to hell, scholarship girl… curfew enforced, humanity optional.
"Phone's done… now floor duty, scholarship rat," he barked, kicking my ratty duffel towards the corner by his desk where the carpet reeked of old beer and shattered dreams, "two beds, sure, but the good one's mine, and you're not tainting it with your broke-ass cooties tonight."
I glared, fists balled, but exhaustion hit like a truck… knee throbbing, skirt still pinned like a war wound, no fight left as he loomed over me spreading a thin dorm blanket on the hard floor like I was his pet mongrel.
Curled up there under flickering streetlight sneaking through blinds, his king-sized bed creaking above as me as he scrolled TikTock laughing at rich-boy memes, every snore and phone ping drilled into my skull like sleep sabotage.
I tossed, bladder screaming but too terrified to beg for bathroom rights, skirt twisted around my waist, safety pin jabbing ribs while his shadow on the wall mocked my every failed attempt to drift off.
Sleep? In this hellhole? Not until he allows it, princess.