The Unlikely Resident of Room 313

Chapter 2

A boy in my room was wonderful, welcomed development on Move-In Day.

If I knew why he was here in the first place.

For a moment, I was tongue-tied and flabbergasted, wondering if the suitcase had in fact hit me, and this was all a dream. Pausing at the door, I blinked, waited, expecting the scene to change to me sprawled out in the stairwell. But no—this was not a dream.

The boy stared out the window above the bed, lost in thought. My eyes followed the way his long legs rested on the headboard, and the sun illuminated his honey brown hair golden. Gorgeous was an understatement. What a pleasant surprise, my mind hummed. My parents would have a stroke if they found out.

But where did he come from? I checked the number plate outside the door again. Room 313.

"Uh, hello?" I said, slowly stepping into the room. No response. "Hello?" I repeated. "Hello?"

He definitely heard me that time. My eyes narrowed at whatever game he was playing.

Finally deciding I was worth his attention, the boy turned to look at me, and my eyebrows shot up, taking in the way his color-block sweater and light wash jeans made him look more ready for a Tommy Hilfigure runway than a dorm room.

"They really need to figure out the air conditioning," he said with an exaggerated shiver from the bed. "I think I can see my breath."

The words tumbled out before I could stop them. "You're not Noel Parker."

He inclined his head affirmatively. "I'm not."

I waited for him to introduce himself. But he didn't seem to be a man of many words. Instead, the ghost of a smile flickering over his lips, and he remained silent, eyes lazily sliding over me from head to toe until my confusion transformed into irritation.

"So who are you, exactly?" I asked. "And what are you doing here?"

His eyes were unsettling pools of jet black under the fluorescent light. "Well, I should ask you the same considering you're in my dorm room."

No. That wasn't right. "This is actually the girl's floor."

The corners of his lips lifted into a smirk. "Well, it looks like we have a problem, don't we?" Mischief played over his features and he glanced out into the chaos overtaking the third floor. "Maybe we're roommates? Ever thought of that? It could be like one of those novels."

My mouth dropped open. "We're not because this is my room. See?" I jingled the backup key. "My key. And my roommate—"

Oh, crap. My roommate transferred to another dorm yesterday.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood up, gaining a good five inches of height over my five-feet, eight-inch height. His expression was arrogant; he enjoyed seeing me flustered, it seemed, and held his gold key to the light. "Oh my God. We are roommates!"

My eyes widened to disks and whatever snarky remark waited on the tip of my tongue vanished instantly. There was no way—no. There was no way. This was reality; not some quirky college romance movie. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I shook my head, and then smiled at the stranger. "Well, this was fun. It was so nice meeting you, but I gotta go."

"Leaving so soon, roomie?"

I laughed. "You're leaving, too."

My "roommate" pushed a hand through the silky strands that rested on his forehead. "I'm afraid I can't do that."