Arabella Seraphine Montgomery did not *walk* into Crestwood University—she *arrived.*
Her black town car rolled up the curb like it was dropping her off at the Met Gala, not a dormitory. The driver hopped out to unload her glossy luggage set—four matching suitcases, a garment bag, and a cosmetics case that could feed a small country.
Arabella stepped out last, adjusting her sunglasses even though the sky was overcast. Her heels clicked against the pavement like applause, and for a second, she swore the world had paused just to admire her. She didn't let her parents trail behind her, either.
"Mother, Father," she declared, waving them off like paparazzi. "This is my debut as an independent woman. Please don't follow me in. It'll ruin the aesthetic."
Her mother chuckled. Her father muttered something about tuition bills. But Arabella didn't look back—her focus was on the dorm ahead. This was her stage now.
The inside of the building, however, was… underwhelming. Beige walls. Flickering fluorescent lights. A faint smell of cleaning solution. Arabella wrinkled her nose, wheeled her luggage down the hall, and finally found her door.
The taped label read: **Arabella S. Montgomery.**
She smirked, tracing the letters with a manicured nail. *Finally, recognition.*
The dorm itself was modest—two bedrooms, a shared kitchen, one bathroom. Arabella immediately chose the left-hand bedroom. The view wasn't amazing (some trees, a parking lot), but it was hers. With a dramatic sigh, she tossed her luggage onto the bed and began unpacking her perfumes like precious jewels.
She was halfway through arranging her shoes when the front door creaked open.
Arabella froze. A smile tugged at her lips—*finally,* her roommate had arrived. She imagined a fellow queen, maybe a future best friend, someone who understood shopping hauls and skincare rituals.
But when she turned, the smile vanished.
A guy stood in the doorway. Not just any guy—*a tall one.* Six-foot-two, broad-shouldered, dressed in a black hoodie that somehow looked effortlessly expensive. His dark hair was slightly tousled, like he hadn't tried, and his piercing blue eyes locked on her with cool surprise.
Arabella blinked. He blinked.
Then she laughed, sharp and incredulous. "You're in the wrong room."
The boy raised an eyebrow, stepping fully inside. His voice was smooth, confident, and maddeningly calm. "Funny. I was about to say the same thing."
Arabella straightened, tugging her silk blouse like armor. "No, *I'm* Arabella Seraphine Montgomery. This is *my* dorm."
He smirked, holding up a dorm key. "Adrian Hayes. Apparently, this is mine too."
Arabella's jaw dropped. "No. Absolutely not. This is a female dorm. I requested a *female roommate.*"
Adrian walked past her with the relaxed stride of someone who didn't care about her theatrics, tossing his duffel bag onto the other bed. The thud echoed through the walls. He didn't even look at her when he said, "Relax, princess. Two bedrooms. You'll survive."
Her nostrils flared. *Princess?* Nobody called Arabella Montgomery "princess."
"This is a mistake," she snapped, heels clicking as she stormed toward the door. "I'm not sharing a suite with a guy. Especially not some—" she waved her hand at him, "—*tall, smug intruder.*"
Adrian leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. Those blue eyes gleamed with amusement. "Trust me, sweetheart, I'm not thrilled either. Let's go fix it then."
Minutes later, the two of them marched side by side into the housing office, footsteps echoing in unison. Arabella walked like she owned the building, head high, heels sharp. Adrian followed with easy confidence, hands in his pockets, watching her theatrics with a faint smirk.
The office was cramped, buzzing with the sound of an ancient printer. A receptionist with tired eyes looked up as Arabella slammed her manicured nails on the counter.
"There's been a horrible mistake," Arabella announced. "I've been placed with *him.*" She jabbed her thumb toward Adrian without even glancing back.
Adrian stepped forward, calm as ever. "And I've been placed with *her.* Clearly an error."
The receptionist sighed, typing into the computer. "Arabella Montgomery and… Adrian Hayes, correct?"
Arabella's arms crossed. "Exactly. Fix it."
The woman pushed her glasses up, voice flat. "All other dorms are filled. The only available unit is the one you two were assigned. Two bedrooms, one shared kitchen, one bathroom. End of story."
Arabella's jaw dropped. "You mean I have to live next to *him?*"
Adrian's smirk widened. He leaned closer, his voice low and smooth. "Looks like you're stuck with me, princess."
Arabella's nails dug into her designer purse strap. For the first time in years, she didn't have a clever comeback.