Chapter 5: Rich People Territory
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Joey took a moment before answering me. That pause felt long enough to hint that whatever he was about to say wouldn’t be good news. Just before I could push him for more, he clapped his hands together as if trying to reset the whole situation.
"Yeah...uh..." he said quickly, his voice a touch too cheerful, "before we dive into all that, I think we should focus on the important thing right now, which is packing!"
I stared at him, and he wouldn’t meet my gaze.
"...Packing," I repeated slowly.
"Yeah," he nodded, already moving toward the mess of my things, as if that alone would save him from my questions. "We need to get your stuff together, head over to Preston Hall, and then I’ll, uh, explain everything on the way. Or later, probably later."
I watched him for a second, weighing the effort it would take to get a straight answer out of him, and then let out a tired sigh. I just didn’t have the energy to deal with it right now.
"Fine," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Let’s just... pack."
Relief washed over his face so fast, it was almost impressive.
"Great," he said, already squatting down to grab the least damaged pile of my things. "Perfect, productive. We love this."
I didn’t bother responding as I moved to the other side of the room, gathering the remnants of my belongings with deliberate, careful motions. There wasn’t as much left as there should’ve been, and honestly, that was probably the worst part. It didn’t take long to sort through what had survived; the rest was obvious enough that I didn’t need to dwell on it.
Joey worked alongside me, quieter now, his usual energy dialed back just enough that soft apologies slipped out under his breath.
"I’m really sorry, man," he said at one point, gingerly placing a slightly burned book into a box. "I didn’t think it would get that bad."
"It’s fine," I replied, not looking up as I stacked what was left of my textbooks. "I told you not to mess with the stove. You did it anyway. This is just... the natural outcome of your choices."
"That doesn’t make me feel better."
"It’s not meant to."
He huffed softly and nudged a half-burnt item aside before continuing, his voice gentler this time.
"I’ll replace everything," he insisted. "Whatever got damaged, I mean it. I’ll cover it."
I paused, glancing at the pile of salvaged items, then shook my head.
"You don’t have to do that," I told him. "Most of this isn’t even worth replacing."
"That’s not the point."
"It kind of is," I replied, zipping up one of the bags. "I didn’t have anything valuable, Joey. Just clothes, textbooks, and probably too many instant noodles."
"You had more than that."
"Not really," I shrugged a little. "Nothing I can’t get by without."
He looked like he wanted to keep arguing, but he dropped it, and I appreciated that. We finished packing quicker than I thought we would, mostly because there wasn’t much left to pack. Once everything was gathered, we carried the bags out together, the hallway still faintly smelling of smoke.
Stepping outside again, the night air felt different, cooler and quieter in a way that settled deeper.
As we walked toward Joey’s car, a thought popped into my head, and I glanced at him.
"Where are you staying?" I asked.
He adjusted his grip on one of the bags and answered easily this time. "Home. It’s closer to campus, so it works out."
I nodded slightly, that made sense without too much thought.
Joey’s parents were... well, to say they were comfortable would be an understatement. He never made a big deal of it, but it was clear from how he lived, having a car, and the fact that "going home" was always an option for him in a way it wasn’t for me.
"Must be nice," I muttered, not unkindly.
He grinned. "You’re welcome to visit anytime, you know."
"I’ll keep that in mind for when you inevitably burn that place down too."
"Okay, first of all...rude."
Despite everything, a small smile crept onto my lips as we reached the car and loaded my stuff into the back.The drive to Preston Hall didn’t take long, but it was quiet in a way that felt heavier than the chaos from earlier, both of us lost in our own thoughts as the campus shifted around us, the familiar parts fading into something else.
I noticed it even before we stopped, Preston Hall didn’t look like a typical dorm.
It looked like a statement.
The building loomed ahead, tall and sleek, lit in a way that highlighted every detail...from the sharp angles of the fancy ass architecture to the pristine surroundings that made everything else on campus feel a bit... inferior in comparison. The entrance alone was more extravagant than anything I had ever lived in, with glass and stone reflecting the lights in a way that felt almost excessive.
I found myself staring at it as Joey parked the car.
"...You’ve got to be kidding me," I murmured, stepping out slowly, my gaze drifting upward.
Living there for a year probably cost far more than I’d ever earned in my life combined.
And even if someone had that kind of cash, I knew for a fact that not everyone got in. It wasn’t just pricey; it was selective in a way that made Hawthorne’s already outrageous standards look generous.
And somehow, I was standing in front of it with my bags.
"You’re serious," I said, turning to Joey as he stepped out of the car.
"Told you," he replied, though there was still a flicker of nerves on his face.
I shook my head slightly, trying to wrap my mind around it as we grabbed my stuff and made our way to the entrance. The difference in atmosphere was palpable as soon as we stepped inside. Everything felt... quieter, more controlled, like even the air had been filtered to fit the sort of people who lived there.
This was not my world, not even close.
Which made the next question unavoidable.
"So," I said as we moved deeper into the building, my eyes taking everything in despite myself, "who’s my roommate?"
Joey nearly tripped, it was subtle, just a tiny misstep, but it was enough.
"Uh," he started, adjusting his grip on the bag as if it would help him regain his footing, "right. Your...r–roommate."
I narrowed my eyes. "Joey."
He let out a small breath and said it quickly, like ripping off a band-aid.
"Damien Lockwood."
I blinked, "...Who?"
"You don’t know him?" he asked, looking at me with a mix of disbelief.
"Should I?" I frowned slightly. "I’ve never heard that name before."
Judging by his reaction, I could tell that was the wrong answer. Maybe I had heard his name somewhere but, couldn’t remember who he was...?
"That’s... actually kind of impressive," he muttered, shaking his head as he started leading the way down a hallway lined with doors that probably cost more than my entire old apartment.
"Joey," I said, keeping pace with him, "why are you acting like this? Who is he?"
He bit his lip, clearly torn about something, then glanced back at me with an expression that did nothing to reassure me.
"You’ll know him when you see him," he finally said.
That wasn’t comforting at all. I stared at the back of his head as I followed him, a yawn creeping up on me despite everything, the day’s exhaustion settling in deeper now that the adrenaline had faded.
Great, not only was I suddenly living in a place I didn’t belong, but I was also being paired with some mystery person Joey refused to explain properly.
For all I knew, this Damien Lockwood could be a gangster, some mob boss
Or worse, a rich pervert with too much time and no boundaries. I grimaced at that thought, adjusting my bag on my shoulder as we stopped in front of a door.
Room 25.
"Well," I muttered under my breath, "hopefully he’s at least easy to get along with."
Joey didn’t respond, he just raised his hand and knocked.
The sound echoed softly in the quiet hallway, and for a moment, everything felt suspended, like the outcome of that single interaction was about to determine how bad my life was going to get.
There was a pause.
Then the door creaked open and in that exact moment—
I suddenly wanted to strangle Joey all over again.
