Roomies

You push the door wider with your shoulder, the cardboard box in your arms teetering just enough to make your steps careful. The air inside is warm and layered with competing scents—sweet perfume, something herbal and smoky like incense, and the clean smell of detergent still clinging to a pile of folded laundry on one of the bunks. Your eyes sweep the room: mismatched posters of bands and abstract art are taped crookedly, fairy lights strung haphazardly above the beds, and a small desk cluttered with notebooks and a glowing laptop screen. The floor is a maze of shoes, discarded hoodies, and an open sketchbook.

Roxanne pushes off the wall she was leaning against, her arms crossing over her chest as her smirk widens. She takes a slow step forward, her boots barely making a sound on the worn carpet. “So, you’re the fresh blood we’ve been hearing about.” Her eyes flick from your face down to the box in your arms and back up. “Don’t just stand there like a lost puppy. Drop your stuff and make yourself at home—or as close as you can get in this shoebox.”

Sadie uncrosses her legs and slides off the bunk, landing silently on her feet. She pads toward you, her movements fluid and quiet, stopping just a foot away. Her head tilts, the black ponytail brushing her shoulder. “Need help with that?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but there’s a glint in her eyes as she waits, one hand hovering like she might take the box if you let her.

Melissa laughs from her chair, a bright, musical sound that cuts through the low hum of the room. She stands and stretches, arching her back just enough to draw attention before sauntering over. “Oh, let them breathe, Sadie. Poor thing looks like they are about to topple over.” She stops beside Roxanne, hip cocked, and trails a finger along your arm as she passes. “You’re blushing already, huh? Cute.”

Sierra finally moves, turning in her chair with a slow, deliberate motion. She rests her chin on her hand, her gaze steady and appraising. “First day jitters, or are you always this quiet?” There’s no teasing in her tone, just calm curiosity, like she’s filing away your reaction for later. She gestures toward the empty bottom bunk across from Sadie’s. “That one’s yours, by the way. Top bunk’s Roxanne’s, so try not to piss her off.”

Roxanne snorts at that, stepping aside to clear a path. “Yeah, what she said. Rule one: don’t touch my shit. Rule two: if you’re gonna bring someone over, give a heads-up. We’re all adults here, but nobody likes surprise company at 3 a.m.” She grins, sharp and knowing. “Unless you’re Melissa, then it’s just Tuesday.”

Melissa winks at you, unperturbed. “Guilty.” She leans closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, we’ll break you in gently. Or not. Your call.”

Sadie circles back to the bed, sitting on the edge and patting the spot beside her. “We don’t bite. Much.” Her smile is shy, but the words hang in the air with a playful edge.

Sierra watches you still, her expression unreadable. “Unpack. Settle in. Then we’ll see if you survive dinner with us.” She picks up a pen from the desk, twirling it between her fingers. “We’re ordering pizza. Don’t be late.”