LOGINTrish's POV
It was 8 p.m., two hours after Joseph, the obnoxious guy had left the house. Miss Britney and I just couldn’t pull ourselves away from each other. We spent some time chatting, getting to know each other better. She showed me around, and I could only imagine how big, luxurious, and splendid the place was. She might as well have been a CEO to afford such a home. Finally, she led me to my bedroom, and I couldn’t believe it. The space alone could engulf the small flat Mom and I had shared.
“Miss Britney… are you sure this is my room?” I asked with a bright smile.
“Yes, yes, love,” she said cheerfully, clearly knowing I loved it.
“This was the room I set up for your mom whenever she stayed over.”
“Really? Mom slept here?” I asked.
“Yep,” Miss Britney said, holding my hand.
She walked me inside and showed me around, and that’s when I lost it. I cried like todler again, like an actual little girl. She wrapped me in her arms and sat me on the bed, gently wiping my tears.
“Th… thank you so much, Miss Britney. How could I ever repay you?” I sobbed.
She pulled me closer, rubbing my back and tucking the loose strands of my sweaty hair behind my ear.
“No no, don’t say that. You don’t need to repay me. Just be a good girl for your mom and me. Work hard, live well… that’s enough.”
I nodded as she left, and within minutes, she returned, arms overflowing with fine dresses from her collection. I hadn’t even owned half as many clothes before. She came in with Baggies, hoodies, late-fashion designs, panties, bras, night & home wears – delicate dresses, all for me.
“My goodness, Miss Britney!” I exclaimed.
“A mom’s gotta spoil her only daughter, right?” she laughed.
“It’s… it’s too much! Aren’t these yours?” I asked.
“I haven’t worn them yet, so someone has to.” She said.
“And besides,” she continued, a mischievous glint in her eye, “We’re the same height and body size. So they fit you perfectly. Your mom always teased me because my height, body, and shape matched yours.” She laughed, a warm, genuine sound.
“I told youuu, you don’t need to worry about any of your things at home. Anything you need Trishy, just tell me, and I’ll happily get it for you.” She added with a bright smile.
I couldn’t help but smile back too. Miss Britney and I were indeed the same height and shape. We were both petite, barely five feet tall, and slender with tight midsections and surprisingly curvy hips and waists. It was wonderful talking with her. For some reason, it felt eerily like I was talking to my own mother. She possessed that playful, easy rapport you find between a mother and her teenage daughter, a connection that made me want to know her more and draw closer to her at every opportunity.
Just as Miss Britney and I were happily absorbed in a long series of shared discussions, her son, Joseph, showed up.
“Mommm, I’m back!” Joseph’s voice echoed sharply from the front door, breaking the comfortable silence of the room.
“That’s Joseph. He actually didn’t stay out too late today,” Miss Britney announced, a hint of maternal pride in her tone.
She gently took my arm as we both rose from the bed in my new room.
“You know, Joseph can seem a little bit... off sometimes. But trust me, he’s not a bad kid. He’s not arrogant, so just try to get along with him, okay?” She said, her voice dropping slightly,
I widened my eyes internally at her statement. Off? First of all, why did he have to come home now? I was fully relaxed and present in this moment of unexpected comfort until he showed up. Now, I felt that unwanted, familiar knot tightening in my chest again. Miss Britney and I were having a perfect, restorative, pseudo-mother-daughter interaction, and now her freak of a son had to show up and ruin the moment.
Secondly, how could she say he isn't a bad kid? A guy who goes around dating twenty different girls at school in just one calendar year is clearly a bad kid to me. An immoral one that no girls should be around. He pretends to be calm when his mom's around but he's a freak outside and honestly, it's so sad Miss Britney doesn't know her son, if only she'd came to our school when it resumes after summer, she might know what he's truly like, a crafty pervy serpent. Even when he found out my mom passed, instead of being sympathetic, he took the liberty to flirt with me, and pretend like he unintentionally touched my butt. But I know how he is so I don't blame him much. Just like my deceased mom, his mom is a single mom too, and speaking to her up close, she's kind-hearted, charming in every way, and still goes through the difficulty of raising a child alone, so to me, it's only natural Joseph turned out to be such a nasty guy, I'd say.
"Josephh we're right here, come," Miss Britney called out.
He walked certainly like the Joseph Roland of Mthland High I know, right to the
door of my new bedroom.
"Hey, any problem?" He asked with his piercing eyes fixed on me.
Miss Britney shouted, clapping her hands.
"Great! Now you're here, this is the perfect time to get to know Trish well. You two haven't really spoken since she came today, so I'll leave and let you two chat, okay?" She said, her eyes darting between us.
Every bone in my body screamed for her to turn back as she left the room, leaving us two alone. See you tonight, he'd said earlier. Like a pervy little... Now she was gone, what would he do?
"So, again, I'm Joseph Roland," he said, smiling and walking towards me.
"Yh... I know," I barely muttered, my back pressed against the wall, calculating the distance to the door.
"So, since you go to the same school I go, I'm guessing you know the type of guy I am. No hiding it then." He smirked, the predatory gleam in his eyes intensifying.
Wow! The true guy behind the mask was finally revealing himself. I tried not acting out of line, knowing this was his house at the end of the day. But I was ready to fight if he tried anything stupid.
“Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?” I said firmly, struggling to keep the tremor from my voice.
"You know the f**k I mean, come on, Mom's not here. And I've been yearning for it since my eyes spotted you today. Let's get into it then and have some fun." He laughed, a deep, unsettling sound that filled the small room.
It wasn’t a laugh, it was a slap; sharp, humiliating, and somehow waking something fierce in me instead of fear. Did it even cross his mind that I’m only here because my mom is gone, and I have nowhere else to go and no one left to help me?
"Aren't you ashamed of yourself, even at this time? You think it's all about yourself, right?" I shot back, pushing off the wall and taking a step forward to meet his gaze head-on.
"I'm Joseph Roland. I do what I want, so yes, it's all about me." He stopped just a foot away, his height towering over me, a smug, arrogant look plastered across his face.
I felt utterly detraited and reduced, and full of blinding anger. Is he trying to take advantage of me because I'm at my weakest point? He thinks I'll slip up? Is it because Mom's gone? Does he think I'm vulnerable now? The thought fueled a dangerous, defiant energy inside me.
"If you think I'm the type any idiot like you could get into my space, you're wrong. Maybe I'll let your mom know about this. She should know her precious son is trying to get into the pants of her guest – someone he literally met today. A girl who just lost her mother. I'm sure she'd be thrilled." I spat out, my voice tight with fury.
He threw his head back and laughed loudly, a truly shocking sound of utter disregard.
"Oh, man, you're funny. What, you think my mom's gonna do, kill me? Ground me? Please. I'm her sweet boy. She wouldn't believe a word you say. She already likes you, Trish. She’d think you were making it up for attention." He took another step, closing the gap entirely.
I stood my ground.
"I can't believe a human being could be like this! Even when you know I lost my mom today, you're still nasty, asking me for… s*x? How could you!" I said, slamming my hand onto the wooden desk next to me, the sharp crack echoing in the hallway.
Miss Britney yelled from afar.
"Everything okay? What was that noise?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
"Calm down, pretty," He whispered.
I could smell stale alcohol and a hint of expensive cologne. The proximity was suffocating. His eyes, usually piercing, now held a glazed, reckless quality.
"You see, I know you're going through a lot after what happened to your mom, but that's why I'm here. To make it all go away." He smirked again, a gesture that made my skin crawl with revulsion and an unsettling spark of... something.
"And you think it's s*x, huh? Unbelievable! You leave this room this instant! You must have gotten drunk before you came in," I said angrily, trying to push him back, but he didn't budge.
He finally conceded, a slow, infuriating smile spreading.
"Okay, okay, I admit, I got a bit drunk. But seeing you pretty tonight, it's worth it. Let's not rush. We are roommates, after all." He said confidently.
He gave a wicked casual wink, then slid a hand over the front of his pants like it was some kind of prize and strutted out with a smug smirk, leaving the door ajar.
A string of curses immediately ran through my mind. Even if he was Joseph Roland, how can a guy be that cruel? Does he really think girls are made of paper; something to wrinkle, tear, and toss aside whenever he wants? We’re human too. We break, we bleed, we carry our own storms. Guys like him… honestly, the world would be better off with fewer of them. And yet, hating him doesn’t erase the strange feeling I’m going through especially because… I’ve never been that close, that attached with
any guy before. It scares me how much I feel it. And to think… we're actually gonna be roommates from now on?
(Trish’s POV)Miss Britney’s finger hovered over the 'Accept' icon.Joseph’s hand was still clamped over his mouth, his eyes wide, looking like he was staring at a live grenade.“Hello? Britney Roland speaking.”“Miss Roland? Good evening. My name is Miss Forger. I’m the homeroom teacher for Class 3-B at Mthland High.”The voice was too young. It had a slight tremor, the sound of a twenty-one-year-old who had spent the day realizing she was drowning in a sea of toxic teenagers. I felt my heart hammer against my ribs. Joseph went deathly still, his eyes fixed on the phone as if it were a ticking bomb.“Miss Forger?” Britney’s tone shifted, the razor-edge of her professional voice softening into the cautious curiosity of a parent. “Is everything alright? It’s a bit late for a school call, isn't it?”“I’m calling regarding Joseph and Trish,” she said. “Your phone number is listed as the primary contact on both of their school records.” Forger said. I closed my eyes, waiting for the word
(Trish's POV)"Say it again," I breathed, my voice trembling so hard the words barely left my throat. "Say it to my face, Joseph. Tell me I'm the reason your life is falling apart."The kitchen was a cathedral of cold marble and sharp shadows. Joseph stood across from me, his chest heaving, his school tie ripped open at the collar. He looked at me like I was the damage, like everything unraveling around him was something I'd caused. He didn't see my fear, or how small I felt standing there. He only saw someone convenient to blame for the mess he was desperate to outrun."You heard me," he hissed, his eyes bloodshot and terrifyingly dark. "Everything was fine. We had a plan. And then you brought that—that 'filth' Christian into this house. You brought the school's eyes into our living room!""I didn't bring anything! Christian must've followed us! Anaya barged in here after all!" I shouted, slamming my hands against the counter. The vibration rattled the empty glasses. "I spent every
(Trish's POV)Friday morning was a cold, clinical execution. I hadn't eaten; the very idea of swallowing felt impossible. Joseph hadn't looked at me once since we woke up. He had retreated so far behind his "Hard Man" mask that he looked like a statue carved from ice. We left the house separately, a tactical move that felt like a funeral procession.Room 3-B was a pressure cooker. The air conditioning hummed, but it couldn't mask the thick, cloying scent of Anaya's perfume or the restless energy of the other "problem" seniors."Final presentations," Miss Forger announced, snapping her ruler against her palm. "First up: Joseph Roland and Anaya Sterling."Anaya didn't walk to the front; she sauntered. She adjusted the podium, her eyes flicking to me with a sharp, jagged triumph. Joseph followed suit, stopping a foot behind her, his hands buried in his pockets."Our project is on 'Macbeth'." Anaya began, her voice sugary and loud. Anaya did most of the talking. She stood at the front wi
(Trish's POV)I sat at a mahogany table in the back corner of the library. My laptop was open to a blank document.Because of the limited time given for presentations, we were instructed to hurry up with our assigned partners. Christian Vane sat accross from me, his chair angled so close our knees occasionally brushed. He wasn't looking at the British Literature text; he was looking at me, his gaze sharp and analytical."You're distracted today, Carpenter," Christian murmured, tapping a rhythmic beat on the table with his pen. "Dark circles under your eyes. A certain jumpiness. Did you have a rough night?""I'm fine," I said, my voice sounding thin even to my own ears. "Can we just focus on the thesis? I want to get this done.""In a hurry to get home?" He tilted his head, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "Or just in a hurry to get away from me?"Before I could answer, the library doors swung open. Joseph walked in, looking like he hadn't slept a second. He was followed closel
(Trish's POV)I was in the kitchen, leaning against the cold marble of the island, trying to wash the lingering taste of the school day, and the memory of Christian Vane's peppermint breath with a glass of water. The house was finally quiet. Miss Britney was at her late-shift volunteer gala, and for the first time since the "Pair Up Project" had been announced, I thought I could finally breathe.Then I heard a heavy thud of the front door groaning open, followed by the clicking of heels that sounded far too sharp and far too confident to be Miss Britney's soft step."Joey? You in here? The door was unlocked, as usual."The voice hit me like a bucket of ice water. High, melodic, and laced with an entitlement that made me pissed.Anaya Sterling barged into the foyer.I barely had time to set my glass down before she rounded the corner, sweeping through the living room and into the kitchen. She looked like she'd stepped off a runway, her cream-colored trench coat perfectly tailored, her
(Trish’s POV)Room 3-B smelled like expensive cologne and old chalk - too many egos, and not enough air. Following the chaos of the Greenland game, the administration had decided the best solution was to lock all their highest-performing "problems" in one place and call it progress. Senior capstone. One room. No escape.Joseph sat in the back corner, his chair tipped slightly away from the rest of the world. Three weeks of detention hadn’t softened him; it had refined him. His face was a mask of cold, quiet indifference, but it was the calm of something dangerous. He hadn't looked at me once since we stepped onto campus, the Silent Pact holding firm like an invisible wall between us.Miss Forger snapped her ruler against her palm, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. “This is not a social club. Your senior capstone is a take-home project. Monday to Friday. Presentation this Friday. I’ve assign







