Chapter 7: Rich Boy Says No. I Disagree
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Joey was the first to snap back to reality, which honestly felt a little wrong considering how we got here and that he was the reason we were all standing in this hallway to begin with.
He stepped up with that same jittery energy he’d had all night, laughing just a bit too loud and a bit too quickly, as if he thought that by talking fast enough, he could somehow smooth over all the awkwardness.
"Okay, just ignore him," he said, waving a hand my way as if I wasn’t right there next to him, completely able to hear every word, "he talks a lot, but he’s actually a cool guy once you get to know him. Super friendly, laid-back, but can be a bit lame at times, hot tempered and really mean too—"
I shot him a look that clearly communicated he was making things worse, and he should have been aware of that. "Joey."
"What? I’m trying to help!"
"You’re not. You’re making it worse, let me handle it."
He opened his mouth as if to argue, then seemed to think better of it, taking a small step back. I took that as him handing the situation back to me, whether he meant to or not. Honestly, that was fine; I was too worn out for whatever he was planning next.
I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder and looked Damien in the eye again, not bothering to soften my expression. For a moment, we both stayed quiet, the hallway around us oddly still, like it was waiting for something to happen.
"Look," I finally said, trying to keep my tone casual even though this was one of the most inconvenient situations I’d faced on what had already been a pretty rough day, "I’m the new roommate alright, man? So can I please just go inside and drop my stuff? I’ve had a really long day and standing in the hallway is not really what I want to do right now."
I tilted my head toward the bags at my feet, thinking that should be explanation enough.
There was a brief pause...not long, but just enough to feel even more drained. Damien didn’t move or react in any noticeable way; he just looked at me with that same calm expression he’d had since the door opened, his pale blue eyes revealing nothing while he processed whatever was going through his mind.
Then he said, "No."
Just like that. One word, quiet and straightforward, but somehow heavier than anything else he’d said so far.
I blinked. "...No?"
"Yes," he replied, his tone remaining just as calm and even, like this was the only reasonable answer he could give and he couldn’t fathom why I was confused. "No."
Behind me, Joey made a small, strangled sound that might have been a laugh if it hadn’t died out halfway.
"Okay," I said slowly, dragging a hand across my face before letting it drop, "I’m going to assume that was a misunderstanding."
"There was no misunderstanding," Damien said, his gaze already shifting as if he was mentally moving on from this whole conversation to whatever he thought was the next step. "You’ve been assigned here by mistake, and I’ll get that fixed."
"Fixed," I echoed, the word feeling wrong in my mouth.
"Yes," he said, as if it were obvious. "You shouldn’t be here."
This motherfucker!
I exhaled quietly, a sound caught somewhere between a laugh and something sharper, my grip tightening on my bag strap unintentionally.
I prayed to God for a moment to grant me patience or I might just punch someone.
"Right," I said, "because I definitely just wandered into Preston Hall with all my things for fun."
"You can wait outside," he said, completely unfazed, as if I hadn’t just said anything worth responding to. "I’ll call and get it sorted out."
Sorted out. Like I was just some scheduling error, something that could easily be moved with a phone call and a little patience. I stood there and really looked at him, actually paying attention this time, checking out how he held himself like he’d already decided the outcome and I was just taking too long to catch up.
Something shifted inside me, not loudly or outwardly, but enough that I felt it.
"I don’t think you get it," I said, keeping my voice light, maintaining that easy edge I usually had when things went sideways, though underneath, there was something more steady now. "I’m not here because I want to be."
He didn’t respond or interrupt, so I carried on. I could hear Joey wince behind me. "I was sent here because it’s the only place available right now, so unless you have a better option for me tonight—"
I let that hang in the air without finishing, not dramatically, just leaving it between us.
For the first time since opening the door, Damien really looked at me, not just a quick glance or an initial assessment, but a direct, unhurried look. His gaze took in details he hadn’t bothered with before, the worn edges of my bag, my slightly uneven hoodie, the exhaustion I hadn’t fully hidden because I didn’t have the energy to mask it.
That didn’t last long, but it was enough for me to notice, and something flickered in his expression, just slightly, before it was gone again, replaced by the same careful, controlled distance. Whatever he’d seen didn’t change his mind in any significant way.
"This won’t work," he said simply. "You can’t stay here."
And why the fuck not?! I wanted to yell. But just let out a breath instead.
And just like that, we were right back where we started. I held his gaze a moment longer, searching for some sign that there was a chance, some crack in the wall worth pushing against, but no luck. Just that same measure of certainty looking back at me, showing no hostility but also no willingness to budge.
So, I stopped looking for one.
"Okay," I said, nodding once like I accepted it, then stepped forward and said, "Move," in a tone that sounded almost absentminded, like I was just asking him to step aside gently so I could get by.
Before he could react, I closed the gap between us and brushed past him, walking into the room like I had every right to be there.
I didn’t look back or wait for permission because at this point, I was done negotiating.
The room was just as I might have imagined, if I’d had the energy to actually form expectations, which I didn’t. So, it hit me all at once: spacious in a way that felt excessive, clean lines and expensive furniture arranged with a kind of effortless precision that screamed this place wasn’t made for people like me. My steps slowed as I took it in, but I didn’t stop moving.
I carried my bag over to the side of the room and set it down like I belonged there, like this was all okay, like it was just another regular Tuesday night, not the end of a day that had been way too chaotic.
Behind me, there was a beat of silence and then Joey let out a loud exhale, relief evident in it, and stepped in after me.
"Okay," he said quickly, with the energy of someone trying to turn a disaster into a minor setback, "great, we’re inside, that’s progress—"
"Right," Joey said immediately, pivoting toward Damien with a smile that felt like it was doing a lot of work, "so a quick explanation because I think context is important here...Oliver’s place kind of burned down and it may or may not have been my fault...which is definitely not ideal, and the person who was supposed to be your roommate got switched out last minute, so now it’s him, which again, not ideal, but it’s temporary."
He gestured toward me like that was going to help. "He’s not usually like this," he added quickly. "Just tired and a little stressed and a bit homeless at the moment, but we’re working on it."
I let out a quiet breath, running a hand through my hair and looking around the room again, trying to take it all in without having the energy to really process it.
Even without turning around, I could feel it, Damien hadn’t moved, hadn’t left, still standing behind me with that cold, assessing expression that I already knew all too well, measuring and thoroughly unimpressed.
I picked up one of my bags, set it down more firmly on the floor, and let my shoulders relax, then glanced over my shoulder, meeting his gaze without bothering to mask the irritation still clear on my face.
This was not going to be easy.
