The layers of Kaid Isherwood (The 1st book in the 'Layers' series)

Chapter 2

Kaid Isherwood's POV

The dormitory hallway stretched out before me like an endless labyrinth of questionable decisions and poorly chosen air fresheners. I quickened my pace, the weight of inevitability pressing down on me. It wasn't the looming specter of midterms or the persistent gossip mill of the student body that unsettled me—it was the arrival of my new roommate. Sharing my space with someone was uncharted territory, and quite frankly, it wasn't a trek I was keen on making.

By the time I reached my dorm, the faint hum of voices and clattering dishes signaled that most of my fellow students had already retreated to their rooms or gathered in the communal kitchen. With a practiced swiftness, I darted into my room and slammed the door behind me. A satisfying thunk echoed through the space. It wasn't particularly melodramatic—just efficient. Time was of the essence; the new guy would be here soon, and I had to make sure the room wasn't entirely uninhabitable.

Surveying the space, I realized something shocking: there was an actual bed on the other side of the room. Not just a neglected pile of questionable linens, but a fully functional bed. I blinked at it, as if it had materialized out of thin air. Beneath the scattered detritus of old textbooks and... what was that, a fossilized sandwich? I discovered that the floors were wooden. Who knew? I'd lived in this room for six years and had never given them a second thought.

I had just managed to restore some semblance of order when the sound of shattering ceramic echoed from the kitchen. Ah, yes, the unmistakable herald of drama. Intrigued, I left my room—the last one at the end of the hall and, for reasons unknown, the largest—and headed toward the commotion. The other students were already deep in conversation when I arrived.

"You mean you're in room 8B?" one of them asked, his voice tinged with incredulity.

"Yeah, what's the big deal?" replied an unfamiliar voice—my new room mate, undoubtedly.

"That's Isherwood's room," the first voice declared ominously, as though announcing the location of a cursed burial ground.

From my vantage point, hidden behind the pantry door (yes, my room had a secret passage to the kitchen; more on that later), I could hear every word. The boy's voice wavered slightly. Good. He was already uneasy. Time to make my entrance.

I emerged from the pantry with all the subtlety of a thunderstorm. The chatter ceased. My expression was, as always, inscrutable. Years of practice had honed it into a weapon of mild intimidation.

"You must be my new roommate," I said, my tone devoid of inflection. "Let's go."

The boy - just slightly taller than me - gulped audibly but followed without protest. As we ascended the ten steps to my room, I took note of his shifty glances and deliberate avoidance of eye contact. It was almost endearing. Almost.

"I'm going to apologize in advance," I began as we reached the door. "I was in the middle of tidying up when the plate dropped, so things might be... less than perfect."

I opened the door, revealing a room that could generously be described as "lived in." His side of the room was modestly furnished with a bed, dresser, desk, and window. He seemed unimpressed, or perhaps resigned.

"It's fine," he said with a shrug. "I have three older brothers. I'm used to chaos."

I nodded and turned my attention to my own bed, where a box of study materials threatened to spill over. Quickly, I shoved it into my closet and shut the door with a satisfying click.

"What's your name?" I asked as he set down his meager belongings: a school bag and a single suitcase.

"Lucan Ashworth," he replied, extending a hand. "Nice to meet you, Kaid."

"Indeed," I said, shaking his hand briefly before retreating to my bed. "I haven't had a roommate before, so this will be... enlightening."

Lucan's eyebrows furrowed. "How did you manage that?" he asked, glancing around the room. "This place is huge. How did you not have to share?"

"The room hasn't been used since 1999," I explained. "The previous occupant was a legend—Mikey Laidan. Infamous for being the worst student this school has ever seen. The room was rumored to be cursed, so no one wanted it. Naturally, I took it."

Lucan's eyes widened. "A curse? Seriously?"

I smirked faintly. "The students love their ghost stories. Personally, I've found the solitude rather refreshing."

He nodded slowly, seemingly processing this revelation. Meanwhile, I pulled a Sharpie from my nightstand and began doodling intricate designs on my arm. It was a habit born of boredom and a mild disregard for permanence.

Lucan unpacked in silence, sneaking occasional glances in my direction. Eventually, I retrieved a Kool-Aid from the mini-fridge hidden under my bed and offered him one.

"You hide a fridge under your bed?" he asked, incredulous.

"Obviously," I replied. "Theft prevention. Kool-Aid is a hot commodity."

He accepted the drink, clearly questioning my life choices but too polite to say so.

As the evening wore on, Lucan finally broached the subject everyone wondered about.

"Are the rumors true?" he asked, leaning against the wall.

"Define 'true,'" I said without looking up.

"That you're a mystery. That you rarely go to class. That you give people the wildest explanations for why you're here."

I chuckled. "Oh, those. Yes, they're all true. Although I could have gone further. Told them I was half-hippogriff or a pantsless fairy fleeing gorgons. They wouldn't have known the difference."

Lucan stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "You're... weird."

"Takes one to know one," I quipped.

Later that night, when most of the dorm was asleep, I decided it was time to reveal my secret.

"Lucan," I said solemnly. "What you are about to see must remain a secret."

"What are you talking about?" he asked warily.

I opened the door to my closet, revealing the hidden staircase. "Follow me."

We descended into the passageway, the air cool and tinged with the faint smell of mystery. At the bottom, I pushed open the pantry door, and we emerged in the kitchen.

"This is why I don't eat with the others," I said, gesturing grandly.

Lucan's jaw dropped. "You have a secret kitchen? What else are you hiding?"

I smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"