RIVER

I stare at the boy standing in front of me; there is no way the mysterious Taylor I had spoken to over text was a boy. It made no sense. The automatic system had paired us together, and when I saw his name, I assumed that it had to be a girl. The university systems have never made mistakes like this ever. They were the best and have proven it for years now.

I stare at him again, hoping this was a dream, even though I would never dream about a boy as gorgeous as this; it being a dream was the only explanation for what I was seeing right now.

"Are you going to keep staring at me, or are we going to sort this out?" I stared at him, the tone of his voice leaving me confused.

"You're in the wrong house." I managed to say, gathering my strength and walking to the room, digging through my bag. I take out the file containing all of my documents, and I search through until I find the rental agreement. I walk back out, and he is still standing there shirtless; he didn't even think of putting something on to cover up, almost as if he was enjoying the attention.

"Here's my agreement for this house, and my roommate is Taylor, a nice girl in 300-level theatre arts," I say, feeling my chest rising and falling as I realise that Taylor is a unisex name and this boy standing here could also be a student in theatre arts.

"Well, I am Taylor DeLuca, and I am in my 3rd year of theatre arts," he responds without missing a beat.

"Impossible!" I scream even though nothing about the situation is impossible.

"And you must be River Wilson, first-year pharmacy," he recites as if he were at a play.

"Yes, but..." There is no explanation here. I had been so comfortable with the name and the house that I had not bothered to ask what gender Taylor was. I never thought Adlerbridge University's off-campus housing system would make a mistake.

"So you are really my roommate?" I ask, and he nods, his hair swaying with his head movement.

"I have a similar one," he adds, dropping the agreement to the counter out front.

"I am sure there must have been some kind of system mixup; I will go to the housing office and have all of this figured out," I tell him, and he shrugs as if saying I could do whatever I wanted. I walk back into the room and pick up my shoulder bag and keys, ready to go complain and get all of this sorted out.

My father would be so disappointed if he got to know that I was sharing a house with a boy. In reality, I do not know what he was going to feel, and I was just assuming this.

"Where are you off to?" His voice stops me before I can get halfway through the living room.

"To the housing office"

"They are closed."

"Huh?"

His hand points to the fancy wall clock, and my eyes follow his hand and land on the clock, stating a few minutes after five pm. "The office closes by five, and even if you leave now, the place would be locked," he explains, not looking in my direction. I had no idea where I was __going, so there was a chance I would have missed my way, but it was a risk I was willing to take, so I wouldn't end up spending the night in the same room as this boy.

"Oh," I say as I slowly lower myself into the couch.

"You can go tomorrow," he explains, and I want to tell him how all of that would ruin my schedule. I plan to get all of my admission-related issues and class schedules sorted tomorrow, but if I have to go to the office, then that would disrupt my plan. I look at him once again, and I know he does not care about what I do, so I nod.

"Okay then, I guess we would have to share the house for tonight," I say, and his response once again is a shrug. I do not want to have a conversation with him either, so why was he being so rude?

I walk into the room and close the door before locking it from inside. I sit on the bed and stare at the empty wall ahead. I turn my head to my suitcase, still sitting pretty in the room. I was somehow glad that I had fallen asleep instead of unpacking; I would have been too stressed to have to pack it up again. I'm lost in thoughts of how the hell this could happen to me when I hear a knock on the door. My roommate is a boy. A hot, shirtless, arrogant, smirking boy. This was a Greek tragedy, and I was the main character, about to suffer. I did not need to stay with him too long to know he was the kind of boy who broke hearts and rode motorcycles in leather jackets.

"River?"

"Do you need something?" I called back without bothering to stand up.

"Are you going to get the door?" His question was accusing, and I hated it. I stood up and walked to the door before slightly opening it and putting my head through the crack.

"How can I help you?"

"Aren't you going to have dinner? I was going to have some pizza, and I was wondering if you wanted me to order some for you."

I didn't expect him to care about what I ate, so I stared at him for a while, and his response was a raised eyebrow. "Well? What is your answer?" he asked, and I cleared my throat.

"I am not sure if I want pizza, but thank you for asking." I am about to shut the door in his face when my stomach rumbles. I have been too nervous to eat on the plane, and I haven't had anything to eat aside from a few slices of apples my father had cut open in the morning.

"Your mouth is saying one thing, but your stomach is saying another. Which should I believe?" He asked, amused by what was going on.

"I'm not hungry; I just have an upset stomach," I lie, trying to cover up how embarrassed I am.

"Are you sure? I mean, I think you should...."

"Don't worry," I say, cutting him off, ready to slam the door in his face, but before I can even react, his hand is pulling mine out of the room. I stumble forward and touch his chest by mistake; my hands linger just enough to feel his hard rock abs. It was like touching marble sculpted by sin. I hated myself immediately. I jolt backwards and stand free of him.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" I say in a hushed, screaming tone.

"Getting you dinner," he turned as if nothing had just happened. "Do you want anything extra with the pizza? Maybe some garlic bread or salad?"

"I will take the garlic bread," I murmur. Why was he being kind? Bad boys don't offer garlic bread.

I couldn't believe what had happened, but I was hungry, and his offering food was not the worst thing in the world.

RIVER

Taylor was quieter than I would have loved to be during dinner, and I could not be happier. When I offered to pay for what I had eaten, he waved it off. I did not like being indebted to him, so I planned to leave him a few bills when I moved out by tomorrow. I have no idea how long the wait would be at the housing agency, but I must get it done by tomorrow so my life can get on track, and I have no reason to lie to my father.

I look down at my phone. I had promised to check in with him before I went to bed, but now that I could not be honest, it was hard. I wonder if there would be other things I couldn't be honest about with him. Was this going to be the reason that I drifted from him? I try to focus my mind on the present and stop worrying about what has not happened yet.

I take my phone and call my father. I hear screaming and muffled sounds in the background. "Dad," I groan into the phone.

"Kiddo, I am just taking one drink," he defends almost immediately.

"And one drink would spiral into a few bottles, and then you would be drunk. Who's going to pick you up and make sure you get home safe tonight?"

"You don't have to worry about that; I am a grown man who can take care of myself." I want to counter him, but I can't.

He went through these phases, drinking more than usual and disappearing into bars while I cleaned up the consequences.

"Make sure you get home tonight."

"Yes, ma'am," he teases, and I sigh. He should not be teasing me when he was the one in the wrong. "Are you all settled in?"

"Nope." I want to tell him why, but I can't seem to bring myself to do so. "I fell asleep and figured I could do it tomorrow," I add. It's not a lie, only a half-truth, and until I sort this out, he does not need to find out.

"Huh! River Rainbow Wilson? You did not follow a schedule?" he says, and I roll my eyes. "I guess you are taking my advice after all," he adds.

"I told you I will," I lied, knowing that once this housing situation was behind me, I was going to go back to my tight schedule. That was the only reason I was able to get anything done in life. I believe that everyone should have a schedule they follow to the letter so that they will never worry about not getting this done.

"Okay, let me let you get some rest so you can do all you have to do early tomorrow," he says as if he knew what I was about to say.

"Good night, Dad. Don't stay out late, and make sure you eat something once you go home. You know what beer does to..."

"Good night, kiddo," he cut me off and cut off the call before I could ramble on. I plug the phone into the bedside and lie on the bed. I had made the bed because I had no other option.

My alarm goes off at five am, and when I look out, the sun is still down. I say a little morning prayer before I get out and begin to do a little warm-up in the room; that is the only way I can get my body moving.

I play a soft, low-fi beat, making sure the volume is not loud enough to wake Taylor. I take out my things and go to the bathroom so I can freshen up for the day. Once I am done with my bath, I go into the room and put on a white tee neatly tucked into a pair of mom jeans.

I put on a necklace my father had given me when I turned fifteen; it had belonged to my mom, and he waited so long to make sure I would love and cherish it. Wearing it always made me feel like she could still see me, like someone was watching to make sure I didn't mess it all up. I toss my hair into a neat ponytail before taking a double look at myself in the mirror. By the time my morning routine is complete, it is already seven am.

I am a bit hungry, as I was the kind of girl who always wanted to have breakfast, but I did not know what I was supposed to do. I knew that if I left the room now, I could get a place to eat some bread and coffee before I got to the using agency. I had done a little research and found out exactly where it was, three miles from the house, and it would take me forty minutes on foot, which means if I left now, I would be in time to meet them open by eight.

I slip out of the house to the empty street and begin to walk, following the directions on my phone, stopping to check if I would see a place to eat something before the craziness of the day descended. I see a coffee truck that sells a few scones and coffee; left with no choice, I get one scone and a cup of Americano and then find a place to sit.

I finally made it to the housing agency, and I was greeted by a woman who looked like she was in her thirties and twenties at once. Her face looked older, but her clothes and energy screamed 'forever 23.'

"Hello, ma'am, I am River Wilson, and I..."

"We do not have any rooms left; this semester was brutal." Hearing her say that made my heart skip a beat, but I was sure that I would be able to convince her to swap me with someone else.

"Oh no, I already have a room," I say, and she looks at me as if I had gone mad.

"Then why are you here?"

"There was a mix-up," I say, setting the file on the table that separated us and pulling out the rental agreement. "My roommate is a boy." She looks up at me as if I had just spoken a foreign language. I clear my throat and reaffirm.

"My roommate is a boy."

RIVER

"How did this happen?" she asked me, taking the agreement from my hand as she began to tap on the keyboard. I calmly explain the situation to her, and she looks up at me after staring at her screen for a while. She looks at me as if I am being ridiculous or maybe joking with her; when she sees I am waiting to hear from her, she drops the papers on the table.

"You had me worried for a second," she says as if she had solved everything, but in reality, she had done nothing.

"Well, shouldn't you be? I am supposed to have a girl roommate, but..."

"You have a boy," she nods, and I tilt my head, trying to understand what she meant.

"And you don't think that's an issue?"

"Of course not, how can it be? The house you chose is a shared house, meaning that both genders can cohabitate there," she explained, and even though that should be enough to clear the air, my mind still can't understand what she meant. "You did not specify in the agreement that you wanted a girl, so we went with the next person on the list, and it happened to be..." She looked down at the papers in front of her before adding. "Taylor Deluca"

"I thought Taylor was a girl," I cry out in frustration.

"You've said so, but as we've established, Taylor is a boy, and going back and forth isn't helping us both." I stare at her because I don't believe her one bit.

"Can I at least swap rooms and have a girl roommate?" I ask, and she shakes her head as if she is about to deliver great news.

"I am sorry I cannot do that; if you find someone who wants to swap, then I would happily help you, but without their consent, I can't change their room." I eyed her and couldn't believe how unhelpful she was being. Do I begin to knock on people's doors asking them if they want to swap rooms with me?

If anyone asked me that, I would think they had gone mad and slam the door in their face. I groan, and she smiles. "It's not such a bad thing," she adds with a smile. "One of the best relationships I had on campus was with a boy I shared a bed with." I was almost certain that the situation was different, but I was not in the mood to talk about what her life was like.

"Is it possible I can change housing?" My mind was spinning, trying to find a place to live. I could not think of living with Taylor for the rest of the session; it could not work. What was I to tell my father when he called?

"Well, you can try, but I am sure that all housing around campus and on campus is full." For some reason, she seems to be enjoying this more than she should. "Just take the house and don't make a big deal out of it." She is ready to dismiss me, and I can see it. I sigh and take the agreement form from her desk and step out, feeling my life slip from my hands.

This was not how the start of my morning was supposed to go. I was supposed to come in here, have the issue resolved, and then go to my department to get my class schedule, but now I wonder if the day was cursed already from the start. I stay rooted in place for a few more seconds before I turn and begin to walk back to the apartment. I should be going to school, but my day was ruined. Why ruin it further? By the time I had walked forty minutes and was at the top of the hill, I was panting and huffing so much that I did not know how much longer it would take me to catch my breath. I see a motorcycle parked in front of the house. I wonder how I had not noticed it this morning when I left.

I open the door, and I see Taylor standing in the kitchenette, shirtless, pouring water into his mouth. I stand and take a deep breath, trying to focus my eyes on anything but his toned abs and slightly more visible tattoos on his side. If only that lady at the housing agency had seen this, she would not have said it was not a big deal and would have tried her best to help me out. How was I to deal with this?

"You are an early worm," he says, closing the bottle and dropping it to the counter before wiping off the remains of water on the corner of his mouth.

"And you sleep in," I return. I don't know why I said that when I was supposed to be talking about our situation.

"So you are getting back from the housing agency, I guess." He ignores my remark and walks out of the kitchenette towards me. I take a step back, not because my brain tells me it's the right thing to do. "What did they say?" a teasing smirk on his face.

"You already knew what they would say, didn't you?" I asked, shocked he had allowed me to waste my entire morning walking back and forth, only to get disappointed.

"It's already too late to try and switch houses," he says, almost repeating what the woman had said.

"And you could not have told me this yesterday?" I ask, feeling my blood boil. He felt like a prankster in that moment, and I hated it. "You made me ruin my entire day just to get that news at the housing agency?" My voice rose a bit, but as soon as I realised the change, I stopped talking and threw a glare at him.

"With how uptight you seem, would you have listened to me?" His question strikes a chord in my entire being. He is right; there was nothing he would have said that would have made me relent. I would have still gone back and forth without thinking about it. "See," he adds with a head tilt and then the smirk over his face.

"I guess you are my roommate," he exclaims, not smiling, still smirking at me.

I take a deep breath and nod. "I guess I am," I mouth to him, and he claps his hand. Was I really doing this? Living with a shirtless boy who made water look scandalous? Maybe the woman at housing was right. Maybe I was cursed.

"You strike me as a girl who would like to make rules that must be followed. I will listen to you," he says as if he were giving them an opportunity. I frown and sit on the couch for the first time, feeling how soft it is. Maybe this place can't be that bad; it would be a year, and I would make sure to change my housing and double-check it all so this does not happen again. How bad can a year be?

"Are you giving the rules or not?"

"I want to write them out."