Page 32 of Entwined

SHE’S WORSE THAN I EVER IMAGINED; an evil, spoiled ex-heiress drowning her bitter new reality in drugs and sex with random men while making my living situation hell by refusing to leave our room while she self-destructs.

I’ll never forget the day last week when I was sitting on my bed reading over my class schedule when the sound of a key turning in the lock had my stomach clenching.

She opened the door and I swear—her head twisted around her neck three times as her eyes widened, and steam came out of her ears.

“Who the fuck are you?” She yelled. “And what the fuck did you do to my room?”

“Um, hello. I’m Jessie. And this,” I gestured around, “is now ‘our’room. All I did was take back my half.”

“Get the fuck out!” She had blasted.

“I can’t do that. I’ve been assigned to this room and I’m staying.”

“We’ll see about that,” she smirked with a red face. “No one has lasted yet. You are roommate number five.”

I rolled my eyes and put my headphones on getting lost in Adele saying she was going to find “Someone Like you” and ignored her cursing at me as she was forced to sort her shit and re-arrange her side of the room. I’ll give the girl credit she’s good. She’s thought of things I would never—in an effort to get me to raise a white flag, pack up my shit, and vacate room 403.

But I’m not a quitter.

I’ve survived much more than a bitchy roommate. I pick up my backpack, swinging over my shoulder as I grab my empty coffee cup and bagel crumbs to throw them in the trash. “Oh. Excuse me, I’m so sorry.” I offer to the man I bump into.

“It’s okay.”

He’s cute.

Very cute.

He reminds me of my ex, with his tousled blonde hair and dimples. He smells of a freshly laundered shirt and men’s soap. It’s comforting.

“Hello, I’m Ben.”

“Jessie,” I offer putting out my hand.

“I know.” He winks, taking my hand and kissing it instead of shaking it. “I’ve seen you around campus.”

“You have?”

“Yes. The cute, mysterious American girl who showed up at the start of Spring semester. Fresh meat is a headline here.”

“Great,” I mutter. “I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”

“Neither am I. We have that in common.”

“You’re cheeky, aren’t you?”

“Flirty might be a better word,” he replied in his sexy Brit accent.“So, Jessie, what’s your story?”

“Oh, my story is boring. Very boring. I’m just an average girl with an average life.”

“Now that’s a lie if I ever heard one. I saw the press articles on you—mermaid girl who came back to life.”

“Ah. I think stalker is the word we are looking for. No thanks…. I’ve already had one of those.”

He holds up his hands as he walks backwards, “I was in Greece on holiday. You were all over the news. And liar is the word I’d use for you… average girl. Tell me about this stalker. I’ll walk you to astronomy class. You sit up front, I always take the last seat in the back.”

I raise my eyebrows, “Why? It’s not a hard class.”

“The view is better.”

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