Alexis

I actually wanted to puke when I saw Kaylee Thompson standing in the doorway.

“You!?” We exclaimed together.

“Why are you here?!” I yelled.

“Why are you here?!” She yelled back.

“This is my room!” We both yelled in unison.

“Shut up!” Came a yell from a couple doors down.

Kaylee walked in, slamming the door behind her. She dumped her grimy bags down on the ground and sat on the dusty hardwood.

“What’s your room number?” I asked angrily.

“204.” She said. “You?”

“204.” I replied.

“You sure?” She asked, obviously about as happy as I was.

“Yes.” I seethed.

“So…” She said. “I guess we’re roommates.”

“I guess we are.” I said. “But I get the bottom bunk, and I need at least half the closet…and there is no way in hell your nasty clothes will touch mine. Got it?”

“Got it.” She said, hopping to the top bunk. “Welcome to paradise.”

Yeah no kidding.

As annoyingly tomboy as she was, I had to hand it to her. Kaylee Thompson was very athletic. Pretending to scroll through an aggravatingly monotonous Instagram feed, I watched as she effortlessly swung from the rafters to hastily make her bed. Within 5 minutes, she had completely, albeit messily, unpacked.

“Alright, Sunshine. As fun as this is…Imma go play basketball.”

“What?”

“Basketball. The orange one…”

“Yeah I got that. Have fun.”

“You don’t really want me to have fun do you, princess?

“Shut the hell up. I hope you die.”

“I love you too!”

With a wink and a wave, she sprinted out of the door.

Jesus, she annoyed me. Like, way more than normal people. It was literally almost as if she had a handbook on how to piss me off.

After 20 minutes of trying to fend off boredom with social media, I was almost tempted to actually go out and talk to people. I laid back and stared at the bottom of Kaylee Thompson’s bunk, trying to process what had just happened. I couldn’t stand 5 minutes of her, let alone a full year.

Goddammit.

A buzz from my ever-present phone startled me out of my stupor. I looked down to see a “Heyyyyy girrrlllll! You unpacked?” lighting up my screen.

Man. My CD collection of guilty pleasure looked so inviting from inside my open bag.

Ok. Wait. That sounded bad.

Horror movies.

My guilty pleasure is horror movies. I’ve got a huge collection, but it’s not exactly a share thing, if you get what I mean.

My screen lit up again “Alexis? You there?”

With a sigh, I slid the notification left and responded “Yeah! Totally! I’m on my way!” I then added a few odd emojis.

Screw it.

I got out of bed, fixed my hair, corrected my posture, and moseyed out the door.

Here we go.