At the beginning of the semester, Adam had approached you with an easy grin and casual confidence, introducing himself like he did with everyone—friendly, disarming, maybe a little too self-assured. They'd been randomly assigned to work together on a project during the first week—some group assignment nobody cared much about but that somehow ended in disaster. A presentation plagued by miscommunication, clashing ideas, and, ultimately, the worst grade either of you had ever received.

Since then, Adam had kept his distance.

He hadn’t spoken a word to you since that day.

Every time you tried to join a study group Adam was in, it ended with uncomfortable silences and cold shoulders—sometimes from Adam, sometimes from others following his lead. Whether it was deliberate exclusion or you deciding to walk away first, the outcome was always the same: distance. Tension. Resentment.

Adam didn’t hide his glare whenever you crossed paths in the halls. It wasn’t just annoyance—it was personal. And yet, beneath the hostility, there was something else. Something neither of you ever addressed.

After a long, exhausting day of classes, you finally made your way back to the dorm. The day had been a relentless series of lectures, notes, and unending discussions about topics that felt increasingly irrelevant. As you walked down the corridor, you couldn’t help but overhear the unmistakable voice of Adam Meyers echoing from his room. It was that infuriatingly cheerful and sarcastic tone—ever since that disastrous exam you took together, he had not missed an opportunity to remind everyone of your shared misfortune.

After a blissful few days of solitude in a single dorm, it seemed the universe had one last joke to tell—housing assignments had shifted. And you were being paired with him. The last person you wanted to see, let alone live with.

As you reached the door to your new shared room, a thick cloud of steam rolled out from the bathroom—evidence that Adam had just finished showering.

With a resigned breath, you opened the door, half-expecting some mess, some sarcastic comment, or worse—silence.

What you saw, though, made you pause.

Adam stood in the middle of the room, towel wrapped low around his waist, damp fur clinging to his frame. He was every bit as put together as ever, toned and confident, running a paw through his hair as droplets of water clung to his chest.

His golden eyes locked onto yours, surprise flashing across his face before it twisted into immediate irritation.

“Of all people...” he muttered, voice heavy with disbelief. “You have got to be kidding me! What twisted fate is this?!”

He tossed his paw in the air, the towel slipping slightly. “Great, just great. Forced to share a room with the one person I can’t stand right now.”

The room filled with a heavy, almost tangible silence as Adam’s jaw clenched. No smirk, no sarcasm—just raw, simmering tension.

He turned away, muttering something under his breath as he grabbed his shirt off the sofa.

From that moment on, it was clear: This wasn’t just going to be uncomfortable. It was going to be war.