And boy, despite my tiny frame, I’d let her have it after she shoved me into the sinks in the girl’s bathroom at school. I’d broken her nose, blacked her eye, knocked a tooth loose, and gave her a concussion when I slammed her head against the wall. She’d fucked me up pretty good too—sprained my wrist, almost broke my index finger, broke my nose, busted my lips, blacked both my eyes, and made me vomit when she kneed me in the stomach.
Our friendship had ended in fucking blood.
“Do you need help?”
I blinked, coming out of my head, and turned to look at the resident hall assistant who was smiling at me, waiting for my answer. I pushed my pink hair out of my face and shook my head. “No, sorry. I get lost in my head sometimes.” I forced a smile to my lips. “Thanks though.”
Making my way past her, I headed inside and took the stairs to the third floor since the elevators were being used to get people’s belongings to their rooms in big rolling bins. I’d dropped my things off earlier and had parked my car in the parking garage before walking back here. Brittany’s parents had offered to bring my things for me so it’d be less hectic, but there was no sense in them wasting gas just to make things more convenient for me, especially when they were already helping Brittany move into her dorm.
And honestly, did I really deserve convenience after the hell I’d put everyone through the last few months? Even Brittany’s parents had caught hell for helping me, but they’d stood firm on their decision, which I was grateful for.
I shoved my key into the lock of room 307 and pushed the door open, only to halt in the middle of the doorway.
This was not fucking happening. Seriously, hadn’t the universe kicked my ass enough? Wasn’t I still suffering enough? I didn’t need this shit, too.
Coralie looked up from her phone, her legs dangling off the edge of her bed. Immediately, she scowled, her knuckles turning white around her phone. I clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening around the door handle, my back tensing. Coralie had always been an instigator. She loved running her mouth, and she loved using her fists even more. I’d always been safe from her attacks as her best friend, but now, I was an enemy—for some fucking reason I still didn’t know.
“No,” I said before she could open her big mouth. “Just… fucking no. This isn’t goddamn happening.”
Turning, I stepped back out of the room, slamming the door behind me so loud, everyone in the hallway turned to look at me. Ignoring them, I headed back for the stairs and jogged down them, going straight for the office for the dorm manager or whatever the fuck the lady wanted to call herself. I had to get a room switch. Anyone was better than rooming with her. I didn’t even care if the person snored or talked too much or partied all night. I did not care. My roommate just could not be Coralie. I’d never survive the year, much less a semester.
The older woman smiled at me when I appeared in her doorway, my fist raised to knock on her open door to announce my presence. Her graying hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and small wrinkles were beginning to form around her kind, blue eyes. She set her pen down and folded her hands on her desk. “How can I help you, hun?”
I stepped further into her office. “Is it too late to request a roommate change?” I asked.
She pursed her lips. “Unfortunately, hun, yes, it is. What’s your name?”
“Mila Hawthorne,” I told her, taking a seat when she gestured for me to do so. She turned to her computer and began clicking her mouse before typing my name, her manicured nails making an annoying clicking sound as she typed. She sighed in a disappointed way that made my stomach drop.
“Both you and your roommate were late acceptances,” she explained. “Everyone else has roommates assigned. Unless someone else comes down to request a roommate change, there’s nothing I can do, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”
My shoulders slumped, and I nodded in defeat. “Okay,” I said quietly, standing from my chair. “Thank you.”
Turned out, the universe could, in fact, shit on me even more.
I headed for the door, but her next question made me pause. “May I ask why you don’t want to room with Coralie?”
I sighed, not bothering to turn around. I just felt fucking defeated. College was supposed to be a goddamn break, yet I was just drowning in even more misery. “We just have bad history,” I explained, leaving it at that, though bad history felt like a massive downplay of what happened between us and everything I’d lost that weekend. “Thank you for your assistance.”
Brittany frowned at me from across the table in the dining hall, picking at her heavily buttered Texas toast. “Wait, your roommate is fucking Coralie?” She scowled. “How the hell can the universe be that fucking shitty to you?”
I shrugged and dipped a fry into my milkshake. “I don’t know,” I muttered. “But she was there in the fucking flesh. Still as drop-dead gorgeous as she was three months ago when we graduated. I tried to get a different roommate, but no luck.”
Brittany sighed. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, the universe apparently wants to kick both our asses.” I looked up at her in confusion, my brows furrowing. Her lips twisted in distaste. “My roommate is your old friend, Jessica. I saw her stuff being delivered with her name on the sheet for the delivery cart.”
I scowled and aggressively shoved my fry into my mouth, chewing it harshly. When everything happened between me and Coralie, Jessica had refused to even hear a word of what I had to say. From the get-go, without even hearing things from my point of view, she sided with Coralie, treating me like pure garbage. Jessica had always been a sort of mean girl, but she’d always been nice to me—for the most part, anyway.
It was truly fucking amazing how quickly best friends could turn into enemies.
I yanked my milkshake toward me. “Well, here’s to a shitty first year of college,” I griped.
Brittany nodded in agreement. “We’ll make it through this, though. We’ve got each other.” She winked at me.
I smiled a little. When everything in my life had gone to pure shit, Brittany had been there for me without hesitation. She held me numerous nights when I cried. She had even been waiting outside of the police station when my parents were finally able to bond me out the following Monday morning. From the moment we met, she had been a damn good friend—a reliable friend.
Hell, the only friend I now had.
“Thanks for being here for me,” I told her, meaning it.