The new roommate. That’s what they’d call me, in the halls, in the cafeteria, whispered behind my back. I didn’t ask for a story, didn’t want one. I just wanted to find a room, a quiet corner, and disappear.
I didn't have parents, not anymore. The system had chewed me up and spat me out, bounced between foster homes until they’d finally given up and shipped me to Garrison Academy in Arizona. A boarding school. A last resort.
“Room 163,” I muttered under my breath, a mantra to keep me focused. I was trying to find my room. The halls were a maze of polished wood and echoing silence.
Then, someone barreled into me. A collision, sending me sprawling backwards onto my back, and him tumbling over me, hands bracing against either side to keep from collapsing. He was tall, lanky, with short brown hair, eyes the color of a summer sky, skin tanned from sun and heat. He was… unexpectedly, almost irritatingly, cute.
“You mind getting off me?” I said, the edge in my voice sharper than I intended.
He flushed, scrambling back, then awkwardly reached for me, trying to help me up. I brushed him off, pushing myself to my feet.
“Lance McClain,” he offered, flashing a grin. “You should watch where you’re standing.”
I stared at him, disbelief simmering. “You shouldn’t be running in the halls.”
“Oh, lighten up,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I said I was sorry.”
“No, you didn’t.” I scoffed, crossing my arms.
“Yes, I did!”
“No, you didn’t!”
“Yes, I did!”
I sighed, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. I turned away, determined to find my room, to just… exist without being bothered.
“Hey, where are you going?” Lance asked, following me up the stairs.
“I’m obviously looking for a pizza shop,” I snapped sarcastically, gesturing towards the stairs. “Heading upstairs, where all the rooms are.”
“Okay, point taken,” he said, unfazed. “My room’s up there too.”
Great. Just great.
“I think you mistook me for someone who cares,” I replied, the words clipped and cold.
“Geez, you’re so mean.” He tilted his head, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “I was just trying to make friends with the new emo kid.”
I was close to snapping. The urge to shut him up, to just… hit something, surged within me.
I reached a room with “163” etched into the wood in gold lettering, and began unlocking the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Lance asked, confusion furrowing his brow.
“Inside my freaking room,” I retorted, my voice laced with frustration. “What do you think?”
“But that’s my room?”
My day was just getting worse and worse.
Lance’s P.O.V.
So I crashed into this guy on the stairs, and it turns out we’re roommates. Not that I mind. The guy’s actually kinda cute, with black hair that’s a little messy and dark purple eyes that seem to burn with an inner fire.
“Heh, this is ironic,” I laughed, pushing open the door and stepping inside. He seemed annoyed, but I shrugged it off. Nobody can stay annoyed at me for long.
The room had two beds on opposite sides, and I flopped down on the nearest one, letting my backpack thud onto the floor.
“Come on—oh, I didn’t catch your name,” I said, realizing I hadn’t even bothered to ask.
“I’m asking for a new roommate,” I heard him mutter under his breath.
“Okay, Mr. I’m-asking-for-a-new-roommate, come on in.”
Reluctantly, he stepped inside, heading towards the other bed, dropping a small suitcase and wallet onto it. I bounced over, peering over his shoulder at his schedule.
“Keith Kogane, eh? Nice name.” Yeah, I surprised myself with that compliment. “We have History and gym together.”
He didn’t reply, so I reached out and grabbed his wallet without asking, flipping it open. It was mostly empty, but a picture slipped out—a beautiful woman with raven black hair tied up in a ponytail.
“Is that your girlfriend?” I asked, pointing to the photograph.
He snatched the wallet back, his grip tight, his jaw clenched. “Don’t touch my stuff,” Keith growled, his voice rough with annoyance.
“Okay, but is she your girlfriend?”
“No.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m gay, anyway. That’s my mother.”
Gay? Well, this was getting interesting.
“Why do you keep a picture of your mother in your wallet?”
“That’s none of your business.”
This was going to be a long year.