Astrid Sinclair

The small bedroom Joshua had given me was barely large enough to fit a twin bed and a desk, but right now, it was my entire world. I knelt on the hard concrete floor, pulling my meager belongings out of my worn-out suitcases. I smoothed out three thrifted sweaters and stacked my color-coded notebooks onto the desk.

On top of the pile lay my organic chemistry textbook. It had cost me $180 used, a brutal blow that had practically cleaned out my checking account. Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock sharp was my midterm exam. It was worth forty percent of my final grade. If I flunked it, my pre-med advisor would officially drop me from the track, and my parents would have every excuse to cut me off completely.

"Just focus," I whispered to myself, rubbing my tired eyes. "You can do this. Just a few hours of quiet review."

I sat down, opening the book to the chapter on reaction mechanisms. I had just started highlighting a line when the floor beneath my chair began to vibrate.

A low, deep thump rattled my desk.

I paused, my highlighter hovering over the page. The thump morphed into a violent, rhythmic pounding that shook the very glass of my bedroom window. Bass. Heavy, agonizingly loud bass. Within seconds, the muffled sound of shouting, laughing, and clinking glasses cut straight through my bedroom door.

I checked my phone. It was 8:30 PM.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I muttered.

I stood up, threw my bedroom door open, and stepped out into the hallway. The sight that greeted me made my jaw drop. The pristine, luxury living room was completely unrecognizable. At least forty college students were packed into the open space. The expensive white quartz island was covered in bottles of cheap vodka, light beer cans, and stacks of red solo cups. Sticky liquid was already pooling on the polished concrete floors. A strobe light was flashing against the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the music was so loud I could feel it in my teeth.

I marched through the crowd, shoving past a guy in a varsity jacket who spilled his drink near my shoes. I spotted Joshua by the kitchen sink, looking utterly overwhelmed as he handed out solo cups.

"Joshua!" I yelled over the roaring music, grabbing his arm.

He jumped, turning to look at me with wide, guilty eyes. "Astrid! Hey! I didn't know you were out of your room!"

"What the hell is this?" I screamed, gesturing wildly to the crowd. "You told me this place was quiet! I have a major organic chemistry midterm in less than twelve hours!"

"I-I know, I'm sorry!" Joshua shouted back, wincing. "I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen. It's his birthday week, and he just texted the whole swim team to come over!"

"Where is he?" I demanded, my blood boiling.

Joshua pointed toward the leather sectional. Sitting right in the center of the chaos, surrounded by three laughing girls in tight dresses, was Calix Russo. He was wearing a dark designer t-shirt, a smirk plastered across his handsome face as he threw back a shot.

I stormed over to the couch, stopping right in front of him. I crossed my arms, glaring down at him with every ounce of fury I possessed. "Calix. We need to talk. Right now."

Calix slowly tilted his head back, his dark eyes locking onto mine. The girls around him went quiet, sensing the sudden spike in tension. He didn't look angry; he looked entirely amused.

"Well, look who finally decided to join the real world," Calix drawled, his voice cutting through the noise with effortless arrogance. "Want a drink, Sinclair? Or are you too uptight for fun?"

"Turn the music down," I said, my voice shaking with rage. "I don't care if you want to get wasted, but throw this party somewhere else. I have a career-defining exam tomorrow morning at eight."

Calix let out a short, mocking laugh. He stood up slowly, towering over me, a red cup dangling from his fingers. "Let me explain how this works, sweetheart. I don't care about your exam. I don't care about your schedule. This is my apartment. If I want to throw a party, I throw a party."

"I pay rent here!" I snapped, stepping closer, refusing to back down. "Four hundred dollars a month gives me the right to sleep in my own room without my walls vibrating!"

"Four hundred dollars?" Calix sneered, leaning down so his face was inches from mine. "That's pocket change. You bought a room, Sinclair. You didn't buy a voice. If you can't handle the noise, pack your little trash bags and go sleep in the campus library."

"You are a selfish, entitled prick," I whispered, the profanity slipping out before I could stop it. "You think because your family owns the building, you can treat people like garbage. Some of us actually have to earn our future."

Calix's smirk vanished, his jaw tightening as his eyes darkened with a flash of genuine anger. "Watch your mouth in my house. Go back to your room, lock the door, and study. Or leave. I really don't give a fuck either way."

Realizing I was fighting a losing battle, I forced myself to turn around. I marched back down the hallway, slammed my bedroom door shut, and locked it. I shoved my noise-canceling headphones over my ears, turned my study playlist to maximum volume, and buried my face in my textbook. But even with the headphones, the heavy bass cut straight through the walls, mocking my desperation. Tears of pure frustration gathered in my eyes as I tried to force the chemical formulas into my brain.

...

Out in the kitchen, away from the roaring crowd by the windows, Joshua cornered Calix by the massive stainless-steel refrigerator. The music was still blasting, but the tension between the two roommates was palpable.

"Are you trying to drive her out on her very first day?" Joshua asked, his voice laced with frustration as he gripped a clean towel. "What the fuck, Calix? She was crying when she walked back to her room."

Calix took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling back on Joshua. His expression was cold, but there was a flicker of irritation in his jawline. "She's annoying. She thinks she can move into my space and start dictating terms."

"She's a student trying to pass a class!" Joshua hissed, stepping closer so the guests wouldn't overhear. "And you're the one who told me to find a subletter in the first place! You practically begged me to find someone last week."

Calix glared at him over the rim of his cup. "That was entirely confidential, Collins."

"Well, it's just the two of us talking," Joshua argued, throwing his hands up. "You told me your father tightened the screws on your trust fund and that your personal seasonal bills were soaring. You said you needed someone to cover the extra eight hundred dollars a month for utilities and building fees because you were short on cash this semester. I found you a tenant who paid upfront without asking questions!"

"I told you to find a roommate," Calix growled, his voice dropping into a dangerous register. "I expected a guy. A swimmer, or a soccer player from the athletic house. Someone who would drink a beer, keep his mouth shut, and stay out of my way. I didn't expect you to bring a fragile, beautiful pre-med girl into my apartment who looks at me like I'm a goddamn criminal."

Joshua stared at him, a sudden smirk breaking through his anxiety. "So you admit she's beautiful?"

"Shut the fuck up, Joshua," Calix snapped, his knuckles turning white around his cup. "She doesn't belong here. She’s distracting, she’s rigid, and she’s going to be a problem. I'm just making sure she knows exactly who handles the rules in this place."

"By ruining her exam?" Joshua shook his head, turning back to the counter. "That's low, even for you."

Calix didn't answer. He turned his back to the kitchen, his dark eyes drifting down the dark hallway toward Astrid's closed door, his mind completely unreadable.

...

Astrid Sinclair

It was 11:45 PM. The party showed absolutely no signs of stopping. If anything, the crowd had grown larger, and the air in the apartment smelled heavily of stale alcohol and cheap weed. I sat on the edge of my bed, my head buried in my hands. It was impossible. I couldn't memorize a single mechanism with the walls shaking like an earthquake.

Giving up, I pulled off my headphones and decided to go to the kitchen to grab a glass of water to clear my throat.

Before my feet could even touch the floor, a heavy thud rattled my bedroom door.

I froze, my heart instantly leaping into my throat.

The silver doorknob began to jiggle violently. Someone was twisting it from the outside, throwing their weight against the wood.

"Yo, is someone in here?" a slurred, aggressive male voice shouted from the hallway. "Hey! Let me in! The main bathrooms are totally packed, and I need to crash in here with this girl!"

The lock clicked uncomfortably under the pressure. The wood groaned as the drunk guy rammed his shoulder against the door frame.

Panic exploded in my chest. My breath caught, and a cold sweat broke out across my skin. I backed away toward the window, my hands trembling.

"I-I... there's someone in here!" I called out, my voice cracking with absolute terror. "Go away! The door is locked!"

"Come on, open the fucking door!" the guy roared, hitting the wood even harder. The frame shuddered, a small crack appearing near the top latch. The lock was cheap, and under his weight, it was about to give way. "Just open it up!"

"P-please, stop!" I cried out, my voice breaking completely as tears finally spilled over my cheeks. I was trapped. I had nowhere to run.

The handle twisted with a violent, final snap. The lock broke, and the door flew open an inch, revealing the shadowed face of a massive, drunk frat guy grinning down at me.

"There we go," he chuckled slurringly, reaching his hand inside to force the door wide open.

I let out a gasp, shielding my face.

Smack.

A sudden, violent sound echoed through the hallway. Before the guy could take a single step into my room, a massive, tanned hand with defined, angry veins slammed flat against the wooden door frame right above the guy's head.

The sheer force of the impact shook the wall.

"Get your fucking hands off her door," a deadly, freezing voice commanded from the shadows.

It was Calix.

He stood in the hallway, his towering frame completely blocking the light. His jaw was set in a rigid line, his dark eyes burning with a terrifying, protective fury I hadn't seen before. He gripped the collar of the drunk guy's shirt, pulling him away from my room with one effortless, violent jerk.

"Calix, man, I was just—" the guy stammered, his face instantly turning pale.

"Out," Calix whispered, his voice dangerously low as he pinned the guy against the hallway wall. "Get the fuck out of my apartment before I personally throw you off the balcony."

Astrid Sinclair

The silence that followed was deafening.

Outside my shattered door frame, the heavy, thudding bass of the music suddenly cut out. Calix didn't just kick the frat guy out; he marched straight into the living room and pulled the plug on the entire sound system. I stood paralyzed by my bed, my hands still trembling as the ambient noise of the apartment shifted into a low, panicked murmur.

"Everybody out," Calix’s voice boomed through the open space. It wasn’t a yell. It was a cold, venomous command that brooked absolutely no argument. "The party's over. Get the fuck out of my sight before I start making phone calls to the dean."

The sound of rustling jackets, shuffling feet, and whispered complaints flooded the hallway. Within three minutes, the heavy mahogany front door slammed shut, leaving the massive apartment completely, utterly empty.

Except for the two of us.

My heart was still thumping against my ribs like a trapped bird, but as the immediate terror of the break-in faded, a white-hot, blinding wave of adrenaline rushed through my veins. The fear was completely gone, swallowed whole by absolute, unfiltered rage.

I grabbed the physical weekly schedule sheet sitting on my desk—a printed paper grid detailing every single hour of my life—and marched out into the hallway.

Calix was standing by the kitchen island, running a hand through his damp hair, his chest still heaving slightly from the confrontation. He looked up as my sneakers squeaked against the concrete. The protective fury in his eyes from a moment ago had already vanished, replaced by his usual mask of bored, untouchable arrogance.

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" I screamed, the profanity ripping from my throat before I could even think to stop it.

Calix didn't even flinch. He slowly poured himself a glass of water from the fridge dispenser. "You're welcome, by the way."

"Welcome? Welcome?" I took three aggressive steps toward him, shaking the paper in my hand. "Look at my fucking door, Calix! The lock is completely shattered! A drunk stranger almost forced his way into my bedroom because you decided to turn our apartment into a frat house the night before the most important exam of my life!"

"It’s not our apartment, Sinclair," he corrected coldly, taking a slow sip of his water. "It’s mine. I told you that. And last time I checked, you survived. No harm, no foul."

"No foul? I’ve been sitting in that room for four hours trying to memorize reaction mechanisms while my floorboards were literally vibrating!" I choked out, a raw sob of frustration threatening to break my voice. I swallowed it down, forcing my tone to stay sharp. "I paid four hundred dollars to live here. I signed a lease with Joshua. That money was supposed to guarantee me a safe place to sleep and study, not a front-row seat to your mindless, privileged circus!"

Calix set his glass down on the quartz counter with a loud, deliberate clack. He turned his full, towering frame toward me, crossing his massive arms over his bare chest. The mocking smirk returned to his lips, sharper and meaner than before.

"Oh, poor little Astrid," he drawled, his voice dripping with casual cruelty. "The big, bad world didn't bend over backward to accommodate her little study schedule. Did your mommy and daddy raise you in a plastic bubble, sweetie? Did they teach you that if you just follow all the little rules and keep your highlighters color-coded, nothing bad would ever happen to you?"

"Don't talk about my parents," I snapped, my eyes burning.

"Why not? It’s completely obvious," Calix sneered, taking a step closer, crowding my space. "You walk around this campus like your shit don't stink, acting like you're better than everyone else just because you spend twenty hours a day in the library. Look at you. You're wearing a twenty-dollar, faded thrift-store hoodie that looks like it’s been through a paper shredder, and you're lecturing me about my apartment?"

"My clothes have nothing to do with this, you asshole!"

"They have everything to do with it," he shot back, his dark eyes scanning me with brutal efficiency. "You're trying so hard to play the role of the perfect, untouchable Ivy League medical student, but you're broke. You're completely out of your depth, clinging to this rigid, pathetic little routine because you're terrified that if one single thing goes wrong, your entire fragile little life is going to collapse."

"You don't know a damn thing about my life!" I yelled, my voice cracking as I slammed my fist against the counter. "I work for every single thing I have! I don't get a million-dollar allowance from my dad just for swimming laps in a heated pool!"

"Yeah? Well, your hard work isn't buying you a new lock tonight, is it?" Calix stepped directly into my personal space, his shadow completely eclipsing me under the kitchen lights. "You want to talk about your insane schedule? You want to talk about how much better you are than me? Let’s see what’s actually keeping you up at night."

Before I could pull away, his hand shot out like a whip. His fingers clamped around the edge of the printed schedule sheet I was clutching in my right hand.

"Hey! Let go!" I pulled back, but his grip was like iron.

"Let's see it," he muttered, wrenching the paper out of my grasp with a single, effortless tug.

"Calix, give that back right now!" I lunged forward, reaching for the paper, but he simply raised his arm, using his height advantage to keep it completely out of my reach.

His dark eyes quickly scanned the neat, handwritten grid. At first, his expression was completely blank, ready to mock whatever rigid study blocks I had laid out. But as his eyes traveled down to the bottom of the page, toward the weekend and late-night blocks, his jaw suddenly went rigid. The mocking smirk completely vanished from his face.

"What the fuck is this?" Calix asked, his voice dropping into a low, deadly register.

"It's none of your business! Give it back to me!" I shouted, jumping slightly to grab the edge of the paper, but he stepped back, his eyes glued to a specific line highlighted in bright yellow.

"Monday through Thursday, 11:00 PM to 5:00 AM," Calix read aloud, his tone shifting from arrogant mockery to raw, intense disbelief. "Downtown Community Pool. Lifeguard overnight shift."

My stomach dropped into a bottomless pit. A suffocating silence filled the kitchen.

Calix slowly lowered his arm, holding the paper at chest level, his eyes drilling straight into mine. The sheer hostility in his gaze made me want to shrink away, but I forced my spine to stay straight.

"Are you fucking stupid, Sinclair?" he whispered, the words hitting me like physical blows. "The Downtown Community Pool? Do you even know what neighborhood that facility is in?"

"I know exactly where it is," I said through gritted teeth, my voice shaking. "It’s a city-funded facility. They need overnight staff to monitor the maintenance and security locks."

"It’s an underfunded, abandoned piece of shit in the middle of the most dangerous district downtown," Calix snarled, slamming his free hand down on the counter. The violence of the sound made me gasp. "The streetlights on that block don't even work. The back security doors have been broken for six months. The local gangs use the parking lot as a drug drop. And you're telling me you walk into that place alone at midnight for a fucking shift?"

"I have to work, Calix! Not all of us have trust funds!"

"This isn't about a trust fund, you idiot! This is about basic survival!" He took a step closer, his chest nearly brushing against mine, his towering frame completely locking me against the quartz island. His eyes were wide, burning with an intense, chaotic energy that terrified me. "The hourly wage for a city lifeguard is sixteen dollars an hour. Sixteen bucks. You are risking your life, walking through a literal warzone after midnight, for less than a hundred dollars a night?"

"I don't have a choice!" I screamed, the tears finally spilling over my eyelashes, hot and humiliating. "I don't have a choice, okay? You don't get it! You will never get it!"

"Then make me get it," Calix commanded, his fingers tightening around my schedule sheet, crumpling the edges of the paper.

"Give me my paper," I begged, reaching out with a trembling hand, my voice breaking completely. "Please. Just give it back."

"No," Calix said, his voice dropping to a dark, unyielding whisper as he leaned down, his face millimeters from mine, blocking out the rest of the world. "I'm not giving this back. And you're not stepping a single foot out of this apartment after dark until you look me in the eye and tell me exactly why the fuck you are so desperate for cash."

Astrid Sinclair

The air in the kitchen was so thick with tension I could practically taste it. Calix was still looming over me, his presence like a physical weight, his dark eyes fixed on that crumpled piece of paper that held the secret to my desperate, exhausting life. The silence between us stretched out, broken only by the hum of the high-end refrigerator and the distant sound of a siren somewhere deep in the city.

“I-I’m waiting, Sinclair,” Calix whispered, his voice dangerously low. “Why are you working at a death trap for sixteen dollars an hour? Does your family know you’re spending your nights in a place where the police don't even like to stop?”

I opened my mouth to snap back, to tell him that my family was exactly the reason I was here—or rather, their refusal to support a daughter who didn’t follow their rigid, predetermined path was. But before a single word could escape, the heavy mahogany front door didn't just open; it hit the wall with a violent, expensive-sounding thud.

“Calix, darling! Why is it so quiet in here? I thought the party was just getting started!”

The voice was like shattered glass—high, sharp, and dripping with a forced sweetness that made my skin crawl. I didn't have to look to know who it was. Lilith Ryker. I’d seen her on campus, always surrounded by a flock of girls who looked exactly like her, wearing clothes that probably cost more than my entire four-year tuition. She lived in the penthouse upstairs, a place that made this luxury apartment look like a starter home.

Lilith strutted into the kitchen, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished concrete. She was wearing a silk dress that looked like it cost three thousand dollars and carried a small clutch that was likely worth a used car. She didn't even glance at me at first. Her eyes were fixed entirely on Calix, who hadn't moved an inch away from me.

“The party’s over, Lilith,” Calix said, his tone flat and utterly bored. He didn't even turn his head to look at her.

Lilith stopped a few feet away, her perfect pout deepening into a look of genuine confusion. Then, her eyes finally slid to me. The transformation was instantaneous. Her expression shifted from fake adoration to pure, unadulterated disgust.

“Oh,” she said, her voice dropping an octave. “I see. I heard Joshua found a new little pet to help with the bills, but I didn't realize he’d gone scavenging in the bargain bins at Goodwill.”

She walked closer, her eyes raking over my $20 thrifted hoodie and my faded jeans. She stopped just far enough away to act like I might be contagious.

“Is this it, Calix? This is what’s taking up your time tonight?” she asked, a cruel little smirk playing on her lips. “She looks like she smells like public transportation and desperation. Honestly, the building association should really have a stricter policy about who they let past the lobby.”

My face burned. I wanted to scream, to tell her that I worked harder in one six-hour shift than she probably had in her entire life. But the words felt stuck in my throat, weighed down by the sheer humiliation of being dissected like a bug under a microscope.

“She’s my roommate, Lilith,” Calix said. His voice was still calm, but there was an edge to it now, something sharp and jagged. “And she’s busy. We’re busy.”

Lilith laughed, a sharp, tittering sound. She stepped forward, reaching out a manicured hand to trail a finger down Calix’s bare arm. “Oh, please. You don't do ‘roommates,’ Calix. And you certainly don't do... whatever this is. Now, stop playing. I have a table at The Obsidian reserved for ten, and everyone is waiting for the guest of honor. Put a shirt on and let’s go. You can leave the help to clean up the mess from the party.”

I expected Calix to pull away, to snap at her, or maybe even to take her up on the offer just to get away from the awkwardness of our earlier confrontation. Instead, he did something that made my heart stop.

He stepped even closer to me, his chest now brushing against my shoulder. His arm came up, not to push me away, but to rest heavily on the counter behind me, effectively boxing me in even further. It looked possessive. It looked like a shield.

“I’m staying here,” Calix said, his eyes finally moving to Lilith, but they were cold as ice. “I told you, I’m busy. Astrid and I have things to discuss. Important things.”

Lilith’s hand froze on his arm. Her eyes darted between us, her nostrils flaring. “Important things? With her? Calix, look at her. She’s a nobody. She’s a ghost. You’re seriously going to ditch me for a girl who looks like she’s one bad day away from a food stamp application?”

I felt a fresh wave of heat hit my cheeks. I tried to pull back, to slip out from under Calix’s arm, but he didn't budge. If anything, he leaned more of his weight toward me, forcing me to stay exactly where I was. I realized with a sudden, jarring clarity what he was doing. He wasn't defending me. He was using me. I was a barrier, a human wall he was putting up to keep Lilith at arm’s length. To him, I wasn't a person right now; I was a tactical maneuver.

“Get out, Lilith,” Calix said, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous register again. “I’m not going to tell you a third time. Take your table at The Obsidian and find someone else to ignore your boring stories. I’m occupied.”

The silence that followed was absolute. Lilith stood there, her face contorting with a rage that was so raw it was almost ugly. She looked at Calix, then her gaze snapped to mine, and for the first time in my life, I felt the weight of a true enemy.

“You think this is funny?” Lilith hissed, her voice trembling with fury. “You think you can just wander into a world you don't belong in and play house with people who are light-years out of your league?”

“Lilith, leave,” Calix warned.

She didn't move. She stepped right up to the edge of the counter, leaning in until I could smell her expensive, floral perfume. It was suffocating.

“Enjoy your little chat, Astrid,” she spat, my name sounding like a curse word in her mouth. “Enjoy the view from the bottom, because you have no idea how hard it is to stay in a building like this when nobody wants you here.”

She turned on her heel, the silk of her dress swishing violently. She marched back toward the door, her heels sounding like gunfire against the floor. At the threshold, she stopped and looked back one last time.

“You’re a mistake, Astrid Sinclair,” she said, her voice dropping to a cold, venomous whisper. “And I promise you, living in this building is about to become a living hell for you. I’ll make sure of it.”

The door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the cavernous living room.

I stood there, frozen, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Calix finally pulled his arm back, stepping away and giving me space to breathe, but the air felt colder the moment he moved. He was still holding my schedule, his eyes downcast, his jaw set.

“I-I... I need to go to bed,” I whispered, my voice sounding small and broken even to my own ears.

“The shift,” Calix said, ignoring my plea. He held up the paper, his fingers crinkling the edges. “The one that starts at midnight. That’s in twenty minutes.”

“I know,” I said, reaching for the paper with a trembling hand. “I’m going to be late. Please, Calix. Just give it back.”

He looked at me then, and for a split second, the arrogance was gone. There was something else there—something that looked almost like a dark, twisted kind of concern, though I knew better than to trust it.

“You’re really going?” he asked. “After everything that just happened? After she basically promised to set your life on fire?”

“I don't have a choice!” I yelled, the frustration finally boiling over. “I have fourteen dollars and fifty-two cents in my bank account, Calix! Fourteen dollars! If I don't go to this shift, I can't pay the rest of the utility deposit. If I don't pay the deposit, Joshua will have to cover it, and I won't be able to look him in the eye. I don't have a penthouse or a trust fund or a guest of honor spot at The Obsidian. I have a job. And I’m going to it.”

I snatched the paper out of his hand. He didn't fight me this time. He just watched as I turned and ran back toward my room, my heart hammering against my ribs. I grabbed my bag and my keys, not even stopping to look at the broken lock on my door.

As I headed for the front door, I saw Calix still standing in the kitchen, a dark silhouette against the city lights. He didn't say a word as I left, but I could feel his eyes on me until the door clicked shut behind me.

The elevator ride down felt like it took a lifetime. When I stepped out into the crisp night air, the luxury of the lobby felt like a lie. I started walking toward the bus stop, my head down, my hands shoved deep into my hoodie pockets.

I had a six-hour shift ahead of me in the worst part of town, an organic chemistry exam in the morning, and now, the most powerful girl in the building had officially declared war on me.

I looked up at the towering glass and steel of the apartment building, catching a glimpse of the penthouse lights far above. Lilith’s words echoed in my head, a cold promise of the misery to come.

A living hell.

I took a deep breath and kept walking. I didn't have time to be afraid. I had to work.