Page 8 of The Roommate (One Night #1)

“You make it look like it’s magic ‘Cause I see nobody, nobody but you, you, you”

Addictions have never been known to be good.

I remember when I was addicted to music. My Mum gave me headphones after I couldn’t deal with the incident . I drowned in the noise, day and night, because silence? Silence was worse. Silence meant remembering. Silence meant reliving the night of the incident again and again.

I was addicted because then, I could easily ignore the chaos of my mind. So I played my music loud enough to deafen the world. Loud enough to drown out my own thoughts. Loud enough that I was nearing ear damage.

But then I saw her face—my Mum’s broken, helpless expression—that made me want to burn those fucking headphones. I stopped listening to loud music ever since. Those headphones, though, are still alive and with me.

Then came her.

Edaline.

She is a different kind of addiction—one that doesn’t just drown out the silence but sets my blood on fire. Where music had been an escape, she is a reckoning. A slow, torturous burn that I crave like a fucking drug.

I should’ve known better. Addictions ruin you. They hollow you out until you’re nothing but a shell of need.

But with her, I don’t care.

I watch her from across the hallway of KRU, the delicate curve of her neck, her light brown waves ending at her shoulders, the concentration in her eyes (as if what Michelle is saying is the most wondrous thing she has ever heard), the way her jeans moulds over her perfect ass, and the unfortunate way she hides her body under oversized-hoodies as usual.

“Hey,” An awkward, but loud voice cuts through my thoughts.

A black-haired girl hesitantly waves at Edaline.

“You have beautiful eyes. I’ve never seen something like that.

Are you sure you’re not secretly a supernatural creature who lures your admirers and makes them your prey?

Because if so, then that makes me your prey too. ”

A super awkward silence that follows looks painful. I walk with the group, watching them in confusion. Is she…flirting with Edaline?

A redhead—black-haired’s friend considering that they’re holding hands—senses the weirdness, and interrupts the silence. Her voice is too low for me to understand what she is saying, but it seems enough to comfort Edaline. Huh .

Saaya replies, “I’m so sorry. That was weird. I just thought that oh you’re so pretty and I kind of wanted to talk to you. I’m sorry, I’m just really bad at socializing. I’m Saaya, by the way.”

“Hi. I’m Edaline. It’s nice to meet you both, and thank you Saaya.” Edaline’s voice is soft, sweet— nothing like the way she is with me.

“Oh, don’t thank me. What I said is a fact, for real. You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. So blue. No offense, Vesta. Anyways, where are you from?”

I’m assuming Vesta is the redhead.

“I’m from Mayrindale.”

“Oohhh. You’re from Britain? You don’t have a British accent.”

Edaline hesitates, “My birthplace is actually Silveridge.” She elaborates after seeing the confusion on Saaya’s face. “It’s a little more than twelve hours away from here.”

Wait—what?

My heart rate spikes up at the name of Silveridge.

Both at the unwanted memories that assault my mind and the fact that Edaline is originally from Silveridge.

The same place that haunts my nightmares, that is drenched in bad memories.

The same fucking place where the incident happened.

I count from 100 to 1 and try to calm my racing heart.

“That’s so cool. I’m from India. You’re lucky that you can go to your birthplace on weekends. I can’t. I miss my home a lot, lot.”

She says nothing but only smiles in response.

“And this is the library.” Her shoulders sag in relief, when Michelle interrupts their weird conversation.

“Before entering, let me make a few things clear. You don’t talk.

You don’t whisper. You don’t fucking breathe too loud.

” A student snorts. Michelle’s gaze snaps to him, “This isn’t a debate.

Break the rules, and the librarian will kill you. I won’t save you.”

Seriously, do all the authority figures here have a stick up their asses?

The Kingsbury Royal University was built in the 1860s by the ruthless, wealthy royals. It exudes restrained power and reeks of old money. I doubt there are any students here who aren’t from an affluent society—other than the scholarship ones.

KRU is an exclusive, elite, influential, private university.

But beneath the polished surface, it feels like the ghosts of the dead—whose blood this university is built over—haunt the shadows and judge whether you are worthy enough or you belong with the dead.

Only the walls know its secrets. It is also rank #1 university in the Ivy League.

Each corner of KRU is built with such intricate designs, stone version of the Victorian Era. The library is no exception—vast with looming arches, towering shelves, and the scent of aged paper mixed with something darker.

The woman—librarian stands behind the mahogany desk, her silver hair coiled into a tight bun and her eyes watching us like a hawk.

But my attention doesn’t linger on the books or the old woman, as the nightmarish pictures flash behind my eyes at the sudden onset of silence. Not even a single whisper. Not even of feet shuffling. Nothing.

My attention stays on her.

Edaline .

I don’t dare remove my eyes from her.

It’s too quiet in here for my liking, and she is the only chaos right now. She is my music right now. I will my brain to imagine everything I would do to her if—no, when she gives in. This seems to be working since neither the incident , nor my mum’s funeral flashes in my mind anymore.

Fuck, it’s bad. I’ve got it bad. She isn’t my solace or anything, no, she’s a goddamn witch.

Edaline .

Her name is a fucking prayer on my tongue at this point.

This addiction, it won’t go away until I take what’s mine. And for that, she will have to lose in whatever unknown game we have started.

I close my eyes for a moment, and take a long deep breath—soaking up the ancient smell, altered with distinct smell of coconuts and sea.

When I open them back—wait—where’s she? Where’s everyone?

“Looking for me?” Her whisper slithers down my spine, igniting every nerve.

I don’t turn. Not yet.

Edaline is standing too close; I can hear her uneven breathing. I can feel her, the heat of her body, the challenge in her presence.

And what—just what I wouldn’t give, as my fingers twitch with the need, to turn around, pin her against the bookshelf and eat her beautiful wet cunt until she begs me to stop.

I had her in my arms this morning. I had touched her soft, most delicious curves, but it wasn’t enough. I need her, all of her, like I need my next breath.

I feel her touch. Her featherlight touch—hesitant and testing—on my back, making my pulse riot like a caged beast.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Blueberry.”

She laughs, low and throaty, and it crawls under my skin like a live wire. “You started it.”

Fuck.

I whirl on her then, my control snapping like a brittle bone. My hands slam on either side of her, pushing her back against the bookshelf. I lean into her, pausing only a breath away. Her breath hitches, but her eyes—those goddamn eyes—burn with defiance.

“Say it, Aiden, that you want me and I’ll be yours.” She taunts me.

Every muscle in my body coils like a predator poised to devour.

But I don’t.

Because she doesn’t get to win by default.

I grip her throat, putting a little pressure. Her lips part—not in fear—but rather, in anticipation. A part of me wonders if she will completely submit to me right now, like she did that night, or if she will fight. I hope it’s the latter.

I graze my nose against the shell of her ear, “You want me that bad, Blueberry? That you cornered me in a library.” My other hand trails down her side, “You want me to wreck you? You want me to make you scream?”

“You talk too much.”

“Then shut me up.”

My thumb traces the delicate line of her jaw. Her pulse flutters beneath my fingertips, but she doesn’t say anything. “Nothing to say, Blueberry? Where did that sharp tongue of yours go?”

Her lips curve, just slightly—a smirk that doesn’t reach her eyes, but it’s enough to make my blood run hotter. “Maybe I’m just waiting to see how long it takes before you break.”

“You think I’ll break first?” A laugh escapes my throat.

“I believe ,” she breathes, “you’re the one who can’t stop touching me.” Her gaze flicks down to where my hand still lingers near her hip. “So, you tell me, Aiden.”

“You’re awfully calm today for someone who gets riled up just by my existence. Does it have something to do with a very eventful morning, I wonder?”

Her cheeks flush. “And you’re awfully obsessed today for someone who claims not to care.”

“I never said I didn’t care.”

“Then say what you do mean.”

“You first.”

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

“No?” I drag my thumb along her bottom lip, watching as her breath catches. “Then what is it?”

“A game that you really enjoy playing.”

An involuntary grin takes over my mouth. “And what’s the prize?”

Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips— fuck , she has no idea what that does to me. Everything that she does to me. “You tell me.”

“You want to know what I’d do if you lost?”

“I want to know, why are you so afraid to admit you want me?”

I could kiss her right now. I could shut her up the way we both know I want to. But that’s the problem—she knows . And she’s counting on it.

So instead, I take a step back, releasing her. Her breath leaves her in a rush, as if she hadn’t realized she was holding it.

“You’re right,” I say, smoothing my shirt like nothing happened. “It is a game.” I tilt my head, studying her.

Her brows knit together.

I turn towards the door and don’t look back. But I hear her sharp inhale. The quiet, frustrated sound she makes when she’s this close to snapping.

Good.

Let her stew.

Because when Edaline finally breaks—when that careful control of hers shatters—it’ll be worth every second of the wait.