THE WORST POSSIBLE ROOMMATES

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I froze in the doorway, my fingers tightening around the handle of my suitcase as I stared at the man standing beside the window. For a moment, I wondered if I had somehow walked into the wrong room. I looked down at the housing slip in my hand and checked the number again before glancing at the door. Room 214. There was no mistake. My stomach sank when I realized exactly who was standing inside.

Jace Anderson. He turned at the sound of my voice, and the surprise on his face lasted barely a second before that familiar, irritating smirk appeared. His dark hair was slightly messy, as if he had just finished running his hands through it, and he was wearing a university basketball shirt with black shorts. Even standing casually beside the window, he looked exactly like the star player everyone on campus talked about. You remember me, he said, amusement flickering in his eyes. How could I forget? I muttered, stepping inside and letting the door shut behind me.

Seven months had passed since the championship game, but I still remembered every second of it. We had been down by one point with only four seconds remaining. I had the ball in my hands, and for the first time that season, I genuinely believed we were going to win. I had driven toward the basket, only for Jace to appear out of nowhere and steal the ball. He sprinted down the court, scored just before the buzzer, and ended the game. His team celebrated while mine stood there in silence. What had stayed with me wasn’t even the loss. It was the way Jace had looked at me afterward. He had smiled and mouthed, Better luck next time. I had spent seven months wanting a chance to beat him. Apparently, the universe had decided to put him in my bedroom.

You’re my roommate? I asked, even though I already knew the answer. Jace glanced at the empty bed beside his. Looks like it. I dropped my suitcase beside the bed. This has to be a mistake. I thought the same thing when I saw your name on the housing list. I narrowed my eyes. You could have requested a different room. So could you. I just got here. And I just unpacked. I pulled out my phone. I’m calling housing. Go ahead. His calmness irritated me. I called the housing office and explained that there had clearly been an error with my room assignment. After several minutes on hold, a woman finally returned to the call and confirmed what I already feared. Your assignment is correct. Room 214 is your designated accommodation for the semester.” I glanced at Jace, who was sitting on his bed and watching me with obvious amusement. There has to be another room. We’re completely booked at the moment. You can submit a transfer request, but we can’t guarantee when another room will become available. I sighed heavily. Fine. Thank you. I ended the call and shoved my phone into my pocket.

Well? Jace asked. We’re stuck together. His grin widened. Looks like you’ll have to survive me. I’ve survived worse. Really? Because you look terrified. I’m not terrified of you. Good. He stood and walked toward his desk, leaving me to unpack. I tried to ignore him, but his presence filled the room. It was impossible not to remember that he was the same guy who had beaten me when it mattered most.

After several minutes of silence, Jace finally spoke. What position do you play?  I glanced at him. You know what position I play. I want to hear you say it. Point guard. He nodded thoughtfully. Explains the attitude. I grabbed a shirt from my suitcase and threw it at him. He caught it easily, laughing. Nice shot. Give it back. He tossed it onto my bed. You know, you’re not as intimidating off the court. And you’re even more annoying than I remember. That sounds like a compliment. It wasn’t. He chuckled and returned to his desk.

I continued unpacking, but the question he asked next made me pause.  What happens if you lose your scholarship? I slowly turned toward him. What? Your scholarship. What happens if you lose it? My expression hardened. That won’t happen. I didn’t ask if it would. Then don’t ask. He studied me for a moment before nodding. Fair enough. I turned back to my suitcase. He didn’t know anything about my life, and I wasn’t planning to explain it to him. My scholarship wasn’t something I could afford to lose. My mother had sacrificed everything to help me reach this university, and my younger sister had spent months telling everyone back home that I was going to become a professional basketball player someday. Failure wasn’t an option. I had worked too hard to get here.

That evening, I changed into my training clothes and headed for the basketball hall. Jace followed a few minutes later, and the moment I stepped onto the court, my irritation disappeared. This was the reason I had fought so hard to get into the university. The polished wooden floor, squeaking sneakers, bouncing basketballs, and shouts from the players around me made everything feel familiar. Coach Daniels gathered us at center court. This season, we’re not here to make up numbers, he announced. Last season ended with a loss, and I don’t intend to repeat it. His eyes swept over the team before settling briefly on me and Jace. We have new players, returning players, and enough talent to win the championship. But talent means nothing if you refuse to work together.

Carter and Anderson. Both Jace and I looked up. You two will work together during today’s offensive drills.  I stared at Coach while Jace looked far too pleased.  Coach.... No arguments, Coach interrupted. Carter, you’re one of our strongest new recruits. Anderson, you’re our captain. If you two learn to play together, this team will be dangerous. Jace picked up the ball and walked toward me.  Ready, roommate? Don’t call me that. Why? That’s what you are. Before I could answer, Coach blew the whistle.

Jace moved first. I followed him across the court, trying to predict his next move. He changed direction quickly, but I matched him. He passed the ball toward me, and I caught it before sending it back. The first few minutes were messy. We collided twice, missed several passes, and argued over positioning. Eventually, Coach blew the whistle and marched toward us. You two are talented, he said, his expression hardening. But you’re playing against each other instead of with each other. If you can’t fix that, neither of you will get what you want this season. He walked away before either of us could respond.

Jace bounced the ball once and looked at me. He’s right. I raised an eyebrow. Don’t get used to hearing me say this, but I agree. Then let’s try again. This time, something changed. I stopped trying to beat him, and he stopped trying to prove he was better than me. We moved together. I passed the ball, he returned it, and I drove toward the basket. I jumped, released the ball, and watched it drop cleanly through the net. Nice, Jace said. I looked at him and found a genuine smile on his face. You’re not completely useless. He laughed. And you’re not as bad as I thought. Careful. That’s almost a compliment. Maybe it is.

For the rest of practice, we worked surprisingly well together. By the time Coach finally dismissed us, several teammates were staring at us as if they couldn’t believe what they had witnessed. Jace walked beside me as we left the court. You know, he said, we could actually make a good team.” I glanced at him. Don’t get carried away. He laughed softly. See you back at the room. I shook my head as we walked toward the dorm. I had arrived at this university determined to beat Jace Anderson. Now I was being forced to live with him, train with him, and somehow work alongside him. I thought that was going to be the worst part. I had no idea it was only the beginning.