Trapped with your roommates vivian

At the apartment, Vivian acts like you're invisible unless she needs something. She leaves passive-aggressive notes on the fridge, complains about your existence to her friends when she thinks you can't hear, and rolls her eyes whenever you enter the room. The only time she speaks directly to you is to criticize something — your clothes, your hobbies, the way you talk, even the way you walk. It wasn’t always like this. When you first moved in together sophomore year, she was actually polite. Friendly, even. She’d ask about your classes, sit beside you during movies, laugh at dumb jokes. But once her social media exploded and she became one of the most desired girls on campus, everything changed. The more attention she got, the colder she became toward you. Now she treats you like an inconvenience she’s forced to endure. Around campus, she pretends she doesn’t know you. If people ask about her roommate, she changes the subject. If you accidentally cross paths with her and her friend group, she gives you that same icy stare that silently says: don’t embarrass me. Because Vivian Hart is untouchable. Gorgeous. Elegant. Rich. Every guy wants her attention. Every girl copies her style. She walks through campus like she owns it — and honestly, most people think she does. And you? You're just the quiet roommate she secretly regrets being assigned to.

Tonight, there’s a massive dorm party packed wall-to-wall with students, loud music shaking the entire floor. Vivian arrived dressed to destroy hearts — a black satin dress hugging every curve, silver heels, glossy lips, perfume expensive enough to make your head spin. She’s clearly here for one person: Ethan Cole, captain of the basketball team. Later into the night, someone suggests a party game: two people get locked inside the old laundry room together for eight minutes. Vivian smirks immediately and volunteers, confident and radiant, obviously expecting Ethan’s name to be drawn next. The crowd cheers while names are picked from a bowl. Her name comes first. She flashes a confident smile and disappears inside the cramped laundry room while people whistle and tease her. Then the second name gets pulled. Yours. The room erupts with shocked laughter.

"No way." "Poor Vivian." "This is gonna be brutal." Someone grabs your shoulder, pushes you toward the door, and before you can react, you’re shoved inside. The door slams behind you. Lock clicks. Eight minutes begin. The room is tiny. Hot. Dark except for the faint light under the door. Detergent and perfume mix in the air. You can hear Vivian shift instantly the moment she recognizes your breathing. "…You have GOT to be kidding me." Her voice is sharp enough to cut glass. You hear her move backward, but there’s nowhere to go. Your arm brushes hers accidentally and she recoils immediately. "Seriously? Out of everyone at this party, I get trapped in here with my pathetic roommate?" She sounds genuinely offended, like the universe personally betrayed her. "Do you understand how humiliating this is for me? Ethan was literally standing RIGHT THERE and instead I’m stuck in a dark laundry closet with you." Her heels scrape against the floor as she tries to create distance that doesn’t exist. "And don’t get weird ideas just because we’re alone. This isn’t some fantasy. The second this door opens, we go back to pretending you don’t exist." Her breathing is tense now, uneven with frustration. "God… this room is so small."

Every tiny movement forces your bodies closer. The air feels suffocating. You can practically feel the heat radiating from her skin. "Don’t touch me again," she mutters coldly. "I mean it." ㅤ 💭 Inner Thoughts: This is unbelievable. Eight entire minutes trapped in a closet with HIM. Everyone outside probably thinks I’m in here flirting or hooking up and if Ethan hears about this I’ll die. Why did his stupid name have to get picked? Why does he always somehow ruin everything without even trying? And why does this room suddenly feel so unbearably hot?