Chapter 6: A Warm Welcome
•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•✾•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•
The door didn’t fully open when Joey knocked; it just shifted a bit inward, leaving a narrow gap that showed someone was standing on the other side, but not enough for me to see them clearly. For what felt like a long moment, nothing else happened, and the silence in the hallway stretched out, making the whole wait seem heavier than it really needed to be.
And apparently, that was the case.
The door swung open a bit wider, and I didn’t process everything all at once — it came in bits and pieces, like things often do when your brain’s tired and running slower than usual.
The first thing I noticed was his height. It was obvious, even just through that narrow doorway. He stood tall in a way that filled the space around him effortlessly, exuding a presence that seemed completely natural. He looked so relaxed and self-assured, as if he belonged there and had never once questioned it.
Then I took in the rest of him. Dark hair, still a bit damp, like he’d just come out of the shower, falling perfectly into place — which felt deeply unfair to me. His sharp features caught the light just enough to stand out, almost unnaturally precise, like whoever designed his face had taken extra care and then just stopped worrying about how it looked.
And then there were his eyes, they were pale, icy blue, a bit too clear. They should have looked bright, but instead, they came off as cold, making it hard to tell what he was thinking, or if he was thinking anything at all beyond mild annoyance at being interrupted.
Oh, and he was shirtless, which was definitely noticeable, not that I had time to process it properly, but enough that it registered before I could shift my focus elsewhere. I couldn’t help but notice the defined lines of his shoulders and the effortless strength in the way he held himself, a build that clearly didn’t come from just existing but from putting in serious effort.
Right. Of course, he looked like that. He was exactly the kind of guy who could stroll into any room and get whatever or whoever he wanted without breaking a sweat. The sort of guy who probably never had to think twice before speaking, since whatever he said always landed just right.
It threw me off for a second, not dramatically, but just enough to snag my thoughts on something familiar. When I focused on him, the recognition clicked into place, and I knew exactly who he was.
My eyes widened...so he was the mysterious Damien Lockwood?
This son of a bitch?
I slowly turned my head to look at Joey.
Joey was already sweating, and not subtly either. Worse yet, he was avoiding eye contact, which told me everything I needed to know...
Before I could comment on that, the guy in the doorway spoke.
"What is it?" His voice was calm, but there was no warmth in it, no curiosity, just a flat tone that made it clear he expected this encounter to be a waste of time. "Are you guys first years or something?"
Joey let out a nervous laugh, "No, we’re here for the accommodation."
"You’re in the wrong place," the guy interrupted smoothly, already starting to push the door closed again. "Try the lower floors."
The way he said it hit harder than it should have, not because the words were cutting, but because of the underlying tone, that quiet certainty made it sound less like a suggestion and more like a conclusion he had already made and wasn’t interested in discussing.
Something tightened in my chest.
Joey, who somehow seemed unfazed by all this, leaned forward with the kind of confidence that suggested he believed it would carry him through the conversation, appropriate or not.
"No, we’re actually where we’re supposed to be," he said casually. "This is room twenty-five, right?"
The guy’s gaze shifted entirely to Joey; it was sharp and assessing, like he was cataloging every detail without lingering too long on any of them. Then those icy eyes moved to me, and I felt it happen — his gaze briefly dropped to my worn hoodie, the scuffed edges of my sneakers, and the bag on my shoulder that clearly didn’t belong in a building like this.
The quiet judgment behind it was as palpable as if he’d said it out loud.
"That’s not possible," he said, his tone still calm but now cool and certain. "You should check with the head of the building. There’s been a mistake."
And then he closed the door, just like that, straightforwardly and without any drama, as if that was the only logical way to end the conversation.
I stared at the door for a moment, then turned slowly to look at Joey, my expression flat enough that it should have worried him more than it did.
That did not just happen...
"He just looked at me," I whispered, needing to say it out loud to make sure it had really happened, "and decided I don’t belong here."
Joey opened his mouth but quickly closed it again without saying anything helpful.
"Rich people," I muttered, crossing my arms as I turned back to the closed door, irritation settling into something solid and real. "Of course."
And I was supposed to live here? With this guy?!
"Okay," Joey said, exhaling as he stepped forward to knock again once, then twice, with the determined energy of someone who had committed to a plan and wouldn’t allow a closed door to get in the way.
The door opened again, faster this time, and the guy on the other side looked less patient now, his expression sharpened, suggesting we’d already used up whatever small amount of tolerance he had to begin with.
"Yes?"
Joey laughed nervously and reached into his pocket, pulling out a card and holding it up between two fingers like evidence in a courtroom. "So, funny story, we actually do belong here," he said quickly. "Preston Hall pass, for him, room twenty-five, see? It’s official."
The guy went still for a moment, not saying anything, his gaze shifting from the card to Joey, and then finally resting on me. This time, it lingered a beat longer than before, not rushed or dismissive, but measuring in a way that felt just as sharp as the first time, maybe sharper.
I held his gaze, refusing to look away. If he thought I was going to drop my eyes, he was going to wait a while.
"Well," I said, letting just enough sarcasm creep into my voice to make my point clear, "this is a really warm welcome. I can already tell we’re going to get along great."
His eyes narrowed slightly, barely noticeable but enough for me to catch it.
Good. At least I wasn’t the only one annoyed in this hallway.
So much for an easy roommate to get along with.
