Mr Rude & Me (Undergoing Editing)

The last moving box thumped to the floor of what was supposed to be my new dorm room, only it wasn't. Instead of the familiar twin bed and sterile white walls, I was staring at a beat-up leather couch, scattered takeout containers, and a drum kit crammed into one corner.

"Uh, excuse me?" I called out, my voice a little too high. "Is anyone here?"

A moment later, a head of impossibly messy dark hair peeked out from a doorway, followed by a pair of piercing eyes that seemed to take in my perfectly ironed blouse and sensible ballet flats with an immediate, visible disdain. He was shirtless, displaying an impressive array of tattoos, and a faint smell of something like stale coffee and engine oil clung to him. My eyes widened. This was definitely not the pristine room I'd been assigned. And this was definitely not the friendly face my roommate was supposed to have.

"What do you want?" he grunted, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. His voice was rough, like gravel, and his expression left no doubt: I was an unwelcome intrusion.

My jaw tightened. "I believe you're in my room." I gestured vaguely at the chaos around me. "This is 3B, isn't it?"

He pushed off the frame, stepping fully into the living area, a sneer twisting his lips. "Yeah, it's 3B. My room. And you're not my roommate, sweetheart. I already have one."