Chapter 2-Wrong House

ISLA'S POV

I picked up my suitcase and dusted off my jeans.

What an entrance.

I pulled the folder containing my documents from my bag and checked that everything was still there. Transfer letter. Identification. Registration papers. Everything I needed.

I had one more thing to do before I could settle into my new life at Blackridge. Find the administration building.

I turned away from the courtyard and followed the signs toward the main reception. The walkway felt different now. Quieter. Like the whole campus had exhaled after Ryder and his crowd disappeared inside.

The receptionist looked up when I approached. “Can I help you?”

“I’m a new student,” I said, placing my transfer letter and documents on the desk. “Is this where I complete my registration?”

She sat behind the front desk, typing furiously. “Name?”

“Isla Green.”

Her fingers stopped…just for a second and then she looked up. The smile she gave me seemed forced.

“First year?”

“No.”

“Transfer.”

She glanced through the papers before looking back at me. “Why would anyone transfer in their third year?” she asked, confusion plain on her face.

“Personal reasons,” I muttered.

She just stared at me. I stared back. I just couldn't tell why, but something about her expression made my skin prickle. Finally, she looked down at her computer.

“Room assignment?”

I handed her my documents. She scanned them then her brows furrowed.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.” She clicked something, her eyes moved rapidly across the screen. Then she looked at me. “Your housing has been changed.”

My stomach dropped.

“What?”

“Your original accommodation is unavailable.”

“Unavailable?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She smiled. “Maintenance issue.”

I looked around. The administration building was practically empty.

“Then put me somewhere else.”

“I have.” She slid a keycard across the desk.

I looked at it. Blackridge East Residence. “You’ll just have to improvise and stay there for now until your accommodation is ready,” she said.

“Thank you.” I said, picking up the keycard.

As I turned to leave, the receptionist spoke again. “Miss?”

I looked back at her and she was staring at me strangely. I waited for her to speak, wondering what she was going to say. Her mouth opened, then closed…she was clearly hesitating. That made me even more curious and confused.

“What did you want to tell me?”

A shadow crossed her face. “Never mind.”

My eyes narrowed. “That’s helpful.”

She didn’t smile. “Just make sure you follow the university rules.”

I almost laughed. “I’m not a child.”

Her gaze sharpened. “If you want to survive here honey…follow those rules.”

The laugh died in my throat. For a second, neither of us spoke…then she looked away.

“Welcome to Blackridge University, Ms. Green.”

I didn't wait another second, I left the administration building. But the moment the doors closed behind me, I stopped.

What the hell was that?

I looked down at the keycard in my hand, then toward the corridor leading to the residence halls.

A strange feeling settled in my chest.

But right now I needed a good shower before anything else. Exhaustion was finally seeping into my bones. I made my way toward the residence halls, dragging my suitcase behind me. The path twisted. Signs were unclear. I took a wrong turn and ended up standing in front of a group of guys throwing a football.

“Excuse me, please. Do you know where the East Residence is?”

One of them stopped mid-throw. “Wait. Did you say East Residence?”

“Yeah. Something wrong?”

“No. Not at all.” He pointed down a quieter path lined with tall trees. “That way. Good luck, bro.” He tapped my shoulder before walking away.

Strange, I thought as I started following the direction he gave me. I also noticed the odd looks most students gave me as I went that way. Whispers. Side glances. One girl actually slowed down and stared like I was walking into a restricted zone. I ignored all of them.

I paused when I reached the place.

A house stood there.

It didn’t look anything like a student residence. No student coming and going. Just a large, dark two-story house with black shutters and a heavy wooden door. The lawn was perfectly cut. The windows reflected the late afternoon light like mirrors.

I was confused. Was I in the right place?

I climbed the steps and walked to the door. I pressed the keycard against the reader. A soft click. The lock released.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

And froze.

This definitely wasn't a student residence. It looked more like someone’s private house. Everything was in place. Perfectly organized. The kind of organized that made my skin crawl. The interior was mostly black and brown. Leather couches. Dark wood floors. A massive television mounted on the wall. A hockey stick leaned against the staircase. The whole place screamed male.

Why the hell did that woman send me here?

If I wasn’t holding the keycard, I would have thought I had the wrong address.

I closed the door behind me. The sound echoed.

Now how the hell was I supposed to know which room belonged to me? Maybe I’d just take any unoccupied room.

I looked around. The living room was empty. The kitchen beyond it was spotless. No dishes in the sink. No open bags of chips. Nothing.

“Hello?” I called out.

No answer.

Just as I turned, I felt a presence behind me. Like someone was watching. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I spun around.

Nothing.

Empty hallway.

My heart started beating harder. I told myself I was being stupid. It was just a quiet house. That was all.

I opened the first door on the right. A bedroom. Bed made. Closet empty. Desk clear. It looked unoccupied. I stepped inside, suitcase still in my hand.

Just as I was about to close the door, a leg appeared, blocking it.

I screamed and stumbled back.

The door was shoved open the rest of the way.

And my heart sank straight to the floor when I saw who was standing there.

Ryder fucking Rowan.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?”