The hallway buzzed with the chaos of moving day—boxes stacked high, parents fussing, and freshmen wandering around like lost lambs. Jay dragged her suitcase down the hall, her designer sneakers squeaking lightly against the polished floor. She glanced at the room number: 407.
As she turned the key, the door swung open… and she froze.
Keifer. Standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. His suitcase was half-unpacked, and somehow, he looked completely at home.
"Keifer," she said, trying to keep her voice even, though her chest ticked with irritation. "I didn't know the dorm offered luxury suites now."
He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Luxury? This is practically a broom closet. You must be imagining things, Jay."
Jay rolled her eyes, dragging her suitcase inside. "Right. Because living with you all year is going to be so fun."
Keifer chuckled. "I was going to say the same thing about you."
The room was small, the walls adorned with only his neatly arranged books and gadgets. Jay dropped her bags on her side of the room with a thud. Their eyes met over the room divider.
"You know," she said, pretending casualness, "I could have had a single room. But apparently, the universe enjoys watching me suffer."
Keifer leaned against his desk, arms crossed again. "Well, misery loves company. Lucky me."
There was a brief silence as they both sized each other up, memories of shared childhood laughter mixing uncomfortably with the present tension. The same boy and girl who once built blanket forts together now glared at each other like competitors in a war neither had signed up for—but couldn't escape.
"Just so we're clear," Jay said, setting her laptop on the desk, "this is a truce… purely for survival. Any sneaky, backstabbing nonsense, and I will make your life hell."
Keifer smirked, unbothered. "Truce accepted… but you first, Jay. Try to keep up."
And just like that, the year began—a year of arguments, secret competitiveness, and maybe… something neither of them expected.