His Room,His Rules

I should’ve known from the moment I stepped into room 218B that this year would ruin me.

The room was small—barely enough space for two beds, two desks, and one shared closet. The walls were white, clinical, and the floor was a dull gray tile that echoed every move I made. One side of the room was bare. The other… definitely wasn’t. A messy comforter, black fitted sheets, a half-full laundry bag, and a bottle of cologne tossed on the desk. Someone already lived here.

And that someone was going to be my roommate.

Jace Carter.

I’d heard his name before I ever saw him. Whispers during orientation, passed between groups of freshman girls and a few boys with flushed cheeks and fast breaths.

“He’s a senior. Swim team. Total god.”

“He’s hot and he knows it.”

“Don’t bother crushing—he doesn’t do relationships. Or repeats.”

And now, fate—or a cruel housing algorithm—had paired me with him. Just great.

I dragged my suitcase across the floor and sat on the edge of the bare bed, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. My sketchpad peeked out of my bag, already calling to me. Drawing calmed me. It gave me control when everything else felt too loud. I grabbed it, flipped to a fresh page, and started sketching the edge of the window, the way the late afternoon light cast shadows across the tile.

Click.

The door opened behind me.

I didn’t turn at first, but I felt it—heat, tension, the weight of someone’s eyes on the back of my neck. My pencil froze mid-line.

“Yo,” came a voice behind me. Deep. Smooth. Laced with just enough arrogance to make my skin prickle. “You Luca?”

I turned.

And everything inside me short-circuited.

He leaned against the doorframe like he was posing for a magazine cover—tall, muscular, tan skin stretched over a tight white T-shirt, dark hair slightly damp like he’d just come from practice, and piercing hazel eyes that flicked over me with interest. He wore a lazy smirk that said he was used to people looking—and liking what they saw.

My throat went dry.

“Y-Yeah,” I managed. “You’re Jace?”

He nodded and walked in like he owned the place. And maybe he did.

“Cool,” he said, tossing his duffel bag onto the floor. “Guess we’re roommates.”

He kicked the door shut and turned to face me, his smirk never leaving.

“I figured you’d be taller,” he added, glancing me up and down. “You’re kind of… small.”

My face burned. “Sorry, I didn’t realize there was a height requirement.”

He laughed—low and warm, like he hadn’t expected a comeback. “Okay, shy boy has some bite. I like that.”

I stood up, pretending to straighten the sheets on my bed just to avoid his eyes. “So, um… rules? We should probably set some.”

“Rules?” Jace dropped onto his bed—my bed, technically, the one I hadn’t claimed fast enough—and stretched out like he was modeling for a cologne ad. His shirt rode up slightly, revealing a sliver of hard, sculpted abs.

I looked away. Quickly.

“Yeah, like—boundaries. Lights out. Noise. Guests.”

He raised a brow. “You’re serious.”

“Of course I’m serious.”

He laughed again and rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “Okay, rule one: don’t stress out so much.”

I frowned. “That’s not a real rule.”

“It is now.” He winked. “Rule two: Shirtless Thursdays.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. It’s a tradition.” He tugged at the hem of his shirt as if considering making Thursday come early.

“I’m not taking my shirt off.”

He smirked. “That’s fine. I’ll carry the team.”

I was burning, flustered, irritated—and a little turned on. And he knew it.

He stood and walked over to me, his presence overwhelming up close. He reached out—so casually it made my breath hitch—and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I flinched.

“Relax, Luca. I don’t bite.” He leaned in, his lips inches from my ear. “Unless you ask nicely.”

My legs almost gave out.

“I-I’m going to shower,” I muttered, grabbing my towel and escaping before I did something insane—like beg him to make good on that bite.

---

The dorm bathroom was thankfully empty.

I turned on the cold water and stepped under it fully clothed, hoping it would extinguish the fire raging inside me. What the hell was that? He was hot, yes, and confident, sure—but I’d just met him, and already my mind was spiraling with images I couldn’t erase.

Him on that bed. Shirtless. Smirking. Saying my name like he owned it.

This is going to be a long year.

When I came back, the room was dark—just the glow of his desk lamp casting golden light across the walls. He was in bed, shirt off, headphones in, scrolling through his phone like nothing had happened. His abs were even more ridiculous in this lighting, muscles flexing slightly as he shifted.

I turned quickly, pretending to check my messages.

“You take long showers,” he murmured, pulling off his headphones.

“Sorry,” I said, heart jumping. “Didn’t mean to—”

“I like it,” he said, voice thick with something that made me shiver. “Gives me time to imagine what’s going on behind the curtain.”

I stared at him. “Do you flirt with every roommate you get?”

He grinned. “Only the ones who blush that hard when I talk.”

He was impossible. Infuriating. And ridiculously attractive.

I turned off the light on my side and slid into bed, facing the wall.

“Hey,” he said after a moment.

“What?”

“Rule three.”

I sighed. “What now?”

“No sleeping with your back to me.”

I turned my head slightly. “Excuse me?”

“It’s rude,” he said. “You’re shutting me out.”

“You’re a stranger.”

“Not for long.”

I didn’t respond.

He chuckled again. “Goodnight, Luca.”

I closed my eyes, body tense, mind racing. I was in hell. Or heaven. I couldn’t tell.

All I knew was this: this year was going to break me.

And I wasn’t sure I wanted to be saved.