I'd sell my soul just to do something normal, like any other guy my age. Simple stuff. Go out with friends, play a game, watch a movie without feeling like I'm being watched.
But no. That's too much to ask when your parents act like throwing you into the wild is bad-parenting 101.
Why is it so impossible for me to do…anything without my mom trailing behind me like a shadow? Of course it's impossible. I'm Elisha Kings. Luck isn't a word that exists in my dictionary.
"Mum," I said, practically pleading, "you don't need to come upstairs. I know you want to check if my roommate is decent, or if the bathroom is clean, or if the rug doesn't have dust mites, or if the ventilation's okay." Even I sign at the absurdness. "I know. I get it. But I'll be fine. I'm not ten anymore."
My boxes sat in the middle of the floor, my bag slung over my shoulder, and still, she hovered, hand reaching for the heaviest one. In a dorm full of guys, with my mother dressed like she's off to a gala instead of dropping me off at college…absolutely not. I know men.
She gave me that look, her usual sweet, pouting, ridiculous that worked when I was five. "I know. But we followed Ellie up to her room, and she didn't complain. Your father helped her set up her bed and her desk…"
I groaned. "Ellie's not me."
Her eyes narrowed just a fraction, that motherly edge cutting through her sweetness. "I'm not saying you can't handle it. I'm just—"
"Just what?" I snapped. "Trying to baby me like I'm fragile? Mum, I'm leaving in five minutes. You don't need to hover. I can manage to walk up the stairs, talk to my own roommate."
She tilted her head, not backing down. "It's not about that. It's about—"
I groaned, staggering back from her. "Ellie's a girl. Of course she's going to be emotional. You can't have that with me. See? Dad doesn't even care. He understands."
The trunk slammed behind me, and Dad ambled over, his huge frame practically filling the small space between us all. He had that ridiculous baseball cap perched crookedly on his head, looking like a giant trying too hard to be casual. God, my parents.
"Well," he said, his deep voice rumbling like a distant train, "my approach is different from your mother's, but come on… don't act like that. You're still our little boy. We just… care about you."
Embarrassment tore through me, hot and relentless. I know I'm not some chiseled hero with rippling muscles, and yeah, my bangs hang in my face like I tried to style them in the dark. But come on, I'm supposed to be a grown guy here. Too grown to have my chest squeezed by embarrassment because my parents won't leave me alone.
"Please," I said, waving my hands like I could physically push their love away, "don't say that. This isn't some cheesy college movie where the boy has to cry because Mom hugs him. I love you both, but really… stop. I'll be fine."
I paused, my voice softer now, a bit desperate. "If it makes you feel better, I can… do a video upstairs. Show you my room, the bathroom, the whole setup. Happy now?"
Mom raised an eyebrow, lips twitching like she was barely holding back a smirk. Dad just shook his head, letting out a grunt somewhere between amusement and defeat.
Mom looked at Dad and gave a little nod. "That sounds great. I want to see everything. You know, you might start developing allergies if you don't—"
"Mom!" I shot her a glare sharp enough to cut glass.
Dad chuckled again, heading to the driver's side, swinging the door open. Mom followed, graceful as ever, still managing that impossible mix of sweetness and control.
"Have a wonderful semester," Dad called out. "And call us if anything goes wrong, okay?"
"You know everything will be fine," I muttered, rolling my eyes.
"And call your sister so she doesn't miss you too much," Mom added, her tone warm but teasing.
"Yeah, whatever," I said, stepping back. I watched as their jeep rattled down the driveway and disappeared around the corner.
The moment they were gone, the air felt… different, lole someone had lifted a weight off my shoulders. No Mom. No Dad. Just me.
The yard was buzzing with other students dragging suitcases, some clinging to their parents, whining, probably the same way I'd tried to push mine away when we'd arrived.
I hauled my two heavy boxes by their handle, each one threatening to tip over under their own weight.
The school's dorm building stared back at me. It was a towering structure of pale stone and dark glass, balconies lined with ornate railings, and ivy crawling up one side like it had been there forever. The kind of place that made you feel small just looking at it. Dad and Mom had looked at me like I'd discovered fire when I said I wanted to go here. Like I'd finally decided to do something with my life.
All that mattered now was finding my room and figuring out this whole "adulting" thing.
I almost didn't make it. A blur of movement zipped down the stairs, and I barely had time to mutter, "Oops. Sorry, man," before nearly colliding with him.
He was… something else. A guy who looked like he'd wandered straight out of a college ad, wearing a single tank top clinging to his shoulders.
"Watch where you're going, man!" he snapped.
I didn't bother apologizing again. My hands were full, my back was screaming, and frankly, his attitude annoyed me more.
"Okay, this is going to be fun," I muttered under my breath, dragging my boxes up the winding staircase. The stairs twisted and curled like they were trying to trap me, and by the time I spotted my door, my arms were trembling, and I had to set the boxes down just to catch my breath.
I shifted the strap of my travel bag, wincing as it dug into my shoulder, and finally allowed myself a moment to look around. The hallway smelled faintly of boys, if anyone caught my drift.
The number on the door stared back at me. My personal room.
Before I could even touch the doorknob, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I dug it out, expecting spam or some automated welcome message or worse, my parents requesting a video call.
Lena. I smiled, lifting the phone to my ear. "Lena, what's up, babe?"
"Do not babe me," she snapped. "Six hours, and I don't get a call from you. I thought you died or something!" Her voice had that tonethat made me want to duck under a table.
Lena was basically a softer, slightly scarier version of my parents. Only instead of worrying about whether I'd eaten or slept, she wanted my attention. Constantly. We'd been together since sophomore year of high school. Long distance wasn't exactly ideal, but somehow it worked. Or at least, I liked to tell myself it did.
This distance, I told myself, was necessary. Without it, we'd have broken up months ago. She was drifting, I was drifting, and this, this stupid, inconvenient, six-hour call delay kept us alive.
"I didn't. I mean, I wish I did, but I didn't. I promise. It's my parents, you know how they are." Lena knew exactly how my mom operated: the whole "no one stays too long in your room" thing. I loved crashing at her place, it was freedom I didn't get at home.
Her sigh came through the line. "God, I forgot your parents were the ones dropping you off. How are you, by the way? I should have asked."
"Fine. Just about to enter my room," I muttered, placing my hand on the knob and froze.
The door opened.
And there he was.
A guy. Naked. Ripped. Like he'd been carved from whatever Greek mythology or something with abs, chest, arms, all of it.
I almost drowned at how he has everything I don't have. Everything tight and perfectly proportioned.
I tried, tried not to look down. But my brain betrayed me. His dick was swinging like some twisted carnival ride, and I felt my stomach twist in a combination of horror, confusion, and… something else I didn't have time to name.
"Uh…whoa. What the…fuck?"
The phone was still in my hand, Lena's voice fading behind my frozen state. I think I forgot how to breathe for a second.
My brain short-circuited. Words completely abandoned me. Then:
"Whoa! Dude! What the hell?!" I shouted, spinning around like the world had just flipped upside down.
"What's that?" Lena's voice came through the phone, panicked. "Is something wrong?"
"Jesus Christ! I—Can't you fucking get that away from my face?!" I shouted, still not turning back.
"What the hell, man?" He finally spoke, voice so thick with an accent I wondered where he came from. "Can't you knock?"
"That's my fault? I have the right to be here. This is my room too." His tone made me want to rip my hair out. "For the love of God, ain't nobody want to see that…junk."
Lena was still yammering away on the phone, oblivious to my inner meltdown. "Babe, what's going on?"
"I'll call you later," I snapped, slamming the phone into my pocket. She was going to hate me for it, sure, but right now I didn't care.
"Y-you can turn. It's decency to knock on a door," he muttered, as if trying to regain some shred of dignity. "Everyone knows that."
"Apparently," I said, voice dripping sarcasm, "I forgot it's decency to also not walk around the room naked, especially a room you share with another dude."
"So it's better if it's a female who sees me naked then?" He frowned and I actually paused to ask myself if he actually asked that.
Barely two minutes in, I wanted to punch him, but somehow I stayed put, fists tight, glaring at him like he'd personally insulted my entire life.
I ground my teeth and looked around the room. It was a disaster. Clothes were everywhere, some spilling out of open boxes. I wondered if he'd actually packed all his stuff here. Shirts were bunched in one corner, jeans thrown over a chair, socks scattered across the floor like confetti. His bed was even worse, blankets twisted and tangled, another open box dumped haphazardly on the mattress.
"Did a biohazard happen here or what?" I muttered. Mom would freak out if she saw this place. Thank God she didn't follow me up.
"Not that I need to explain myself," he said, shrugging. "I'm just settling in. I came in yesterday afternoon. I'll tidy up. Just don't touch my stuff. Your bed's there." He pointed to the bed in the corner, half the room away.
"No kidding," I muttered, dragging my boxes in. Whoever this klutz was, I just knew he was going to make my life miserable.