The sound of drilling wakes me up. I moan in protest and pull the pillow over my head. It’s useless. With the notoriously thin dormitory walls, even the previous neighbor’s snoring in the next room sounded as loud as if we were spooning in the same bed. I was forced to sleep with my headphones on sometimes to drown out the sound, waking up with headaches. Now, even the headphones won’t help, not with this level of noise.

I kick the pillow aside and lie on my back, letting the sound assault me. The morning sunshine outlines the edges of the thick drapes that conceal the glass balcony door. Five rooms on my side of the building have exits to the same balcony, so the thick drapes are mandatory to avoid the prying eyes of my neighbors coming out for some air, or a smoke.

I check my watch. The party ended early in the morning, so I only slept about three hours. It’s Saturday, so no classes today, but I need to work on a project due on Monday. How I will manage that on so little sleep is anyone’s guess.

Still, if that’s the price of hanging out with the cool crowd, I’m more than willing to pay it. High school was a time of good grades and poor social status, and I’m not repeating the same mistakes in college.

There’s a pause in the drilling, and I hear shouts of protest coming from the other rooms. Apparently, I’m not the only one who’s been rudely awoken by this unexpected alarm clock. The dormitory is like a hive with its small, thin-walled rooms, and we know everything our neighbors do, from drilling to farting to hooking up. Of course, some things can be kept secret, but only if you’re really careful.

The snoring neighbor moved out last week, allowing me a few nights of blissfully uninterrupted sleep, but now, apparently, a new one is moving in, and is making himself comfortable. Resignedly, I push away the blanket. It doesn’t really matter who lives to my right as long as Dex remains to my left. Dex doesn’t snore or fart or anything, not that I can hear. He’s very discrete. The only time living next to him makes me uncomfortable is when Liz comes over. They talk quietly, and giggle, and then they stop talking, and then, eventually, comes the rhythmical creaking of the bed, the sound I hate with a passion.

On such occasions, I usually go to the common room and sit there, pretending to study, or watch TV with the others, until Liz goes away. Dex emerges sometime later, looking flushed, and heads to the kitchen for a drink, batting off jibes from the guys. He doesn’t look at me, but I see the irritated skin on his neck where she kissed him, leaving a hickey, marking him.

She can mark him all she wants. He still likes me more. He told me so.

As the drilling resumes, I roll out of my bed and head to the shower.

When I emerge into the common room fifteen minutes later, Dex is already there, together with Carl and Emanuel. They’re sitting on the couch, drinking coffee, staring glassy-eyed at the TV screen. The drilling sounds more muffled in here, but it still can be heard.

“What’s up,” I say.

They hum something unintelligible, not looking at me. Being woken up on Saturday morning by drilling would make anyone unfriendly, so I don’t read too much into it, and just head into the kitchen.

The empty pizza boxes are still there, and the smell has gotten worse. It’s almost nine o’clock, and soon Caroline will come to see if all is fine in the dorm. If she sees this, all won’t be fine. Judging by the state of the guys on the couch, it’s going to be me cleaning up again, to save everyone from her wrath. I’ll need a coffee first, though.

I come back with my cup, and Dex moves a bit to make space. I sit down as if it was nothing special, but inside, my heart flutters. I love how he always acknowledges my presence, while other people look right at me and act as if I’m not there.

“W’sup?” he says, sipping his coffee.

“Fine,” I say, taking a sip from my cup. Dex is sitting right next to me, his thigh touching mine. The morning is improving fast.

“Think he’s done?” says Emanuel, and I notice the drilling has stopped.

“Hopefully,” Dex says. “Just how many walls does he have?”

“If he starts again, I’ll knock him out,” says Carl.

He sounds pissed, and I wonder if that’s because of the noise, or because I have arrived, and we’re now packed in like sardines on the couch. He’s not comfortable with sitting in such close proximity to other dudes. Confirming my second guess, he gets up, and now there’s more space, and Dex’s thigh isn’t touching mine anymore, which is a bummer.

I hear steps in the corridor, and then an unfamiliar guy walks in. He’s tall, with big, muscular arms, perhaps even bigger than Carl’s. His hair is cropped short, and there’s an ugly scar on the left side of his face, crossing his cheek from the outer corner of his eye to his mouth. He looks like he’s pushing thirty, while most of the students here are in their late teens and early twenties, and that makes me think that perhaps he’s not the new neighbor but some friend of his, or an older brother, who came to help the new guy settle in.

“Morning,” he says, his eyes passing over us before fixing on Carl, the only one standing. “Where can I get a cup of coffee around here?”

“Just who the fuck are you?” says Carl.

“Greeley’s the name,” says the new guy. “Just moved into room 305.”

“Oh hell, we heard that.” Carl puts his empty cup on the TV stand and slowly walks towards the new guy. “It’s your first day here, so I’m only giving you a warning.” He stops almost nose-to-nose with the newcomer. They’re roughly the same size, but Carl is blond and red-faced, while the new guy has a darker complexion. “If you ever make noise like that in the morning again, I’ll come to your room and teach you to really hate your life, you piece of…”

The new guy’s fist shoots out. It happens so quickly that I barely register the movement. The scar-adorned face maintains a neutral expression, yet his fist acts as if it had a life of its own. It connects with Carl’s face with sickening force, and the next moment, he is on the floor.

He sits up and begins to get to his feet, but then pauses, apparently thinking better of it. He shakes his head, looking dazed.

“Take a break,” says the new guy, and then he looks at us. “I don’t like to be threatened before breakfast.” His eyes pause on me, and my heart stops for a moment under his piercing gaze. “I’ll ask again—where’s that coffee machine?”

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