Tara didn't know which was louder that morning, the chirping birds outside her dorm window or the pounding headache from staying up too late plotting her next revenge.
She squinted at the time.
7:32 a.m.
Late.
Again.
"Oh no, no, no" She shot up, nearly tripping over the stack of books beside her bed. Her alarm clock had been reset… again.
She froze.
There, sitting at the small dining counter with a smug smile and a bowl of cereal, was Liam Kingsley hoodie half-zipped, hair perfectly disheveled like he'd just walked out of a magazine spread titled 'How to Look Effortlessly Hot at 8 a.m.'
"Morning, sunshine," he drawled. "Sleep well? You didn't hear your alarm? That's weird."
Her jaw dropped. "You You changed it again, didn't you?"
He shrugged, spoon tapping the bowl innocently. "Me? Why would I mess with a poor, innocent scholarship girl's alarm? I have better things to do with my time."
"Like gaslight me into insanity?" she shot back, grabbing her toothbrush and stalking to the bathroom. "You're unbelievable."
"Flattered," he said, and she slammed the door in his face.
By the time Tara left for class, she had planned seven different ways to get him back, all involving toothpaste, glitter, or his precious designer sneakers.
Unfortunately, karma worked faster.
Halfway across campus, her phone buzzed with fifteen notifications. Messages. Mentions. Reposts.
Her stomach dropped when she opened one.
📸 @CampusConfessions:
"When your roommate is too broke to pay rent, so she pays in company 😉 #RoomieGoals"
Attached was a photo. Them.
At the dorm common room from last night when she had been yelling at him after the toothpaste incident. The angle made it look like he was leaning close, whispering something flirty in her ear, her face slightly turned toward him, both mid-smile.
It looked… intimate.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."
The comments were brutal:
They'd make a cute couple tbh.
Isn't that the scholarship girl? Bro's got taste.
Rumor has it they share a dorm. 👀
She could feel her blood boiling. She wasn't just mortified — she was exposed.
And Liam? Oh, he was about to die.
She stormed back into their dorm between classes, kicking the door open so hard it nearly rebounded on her.
"Liam Kingsley!" she shouted.
He looked up from his laptop, unfazed. "Wow, full name. Someone's mad."
"Did you see this?" she demanded, shoving her phone in his face.
He leaned closer, scanning the screen, and… smiled. "Oh. That's actually a good angle. I look great."
"Are you serious right now?!"
He glanced at her, calm, teasing, eyes gleaming. "Relax, Tara. It's just a rumor. People forget things in two days."
"Yeah, except now everyone thinks I'm sleeping with my billionaire roommate!"
"Well," he said, leaning back on his chair, "you are living with your billionaire roommate. Technicality."
She grabbed one of his textbooks and hurled it at him. He dodged, barely.
"Okay, okay! Chill, tiger," he said, hands up. "Look, I'll fix it. I know someone who runs that page. I'll have it taken down."
Her glare softened just slightly. "You'd… do that?"
He smirked. "Of course. I can't have people thinking I'm easy."
"Ugh!"
By lunch, it was everywhere.
Whispers followed her through the cafeteria. A group of girls at the next table pointed, pretending to scroll through their phones. One mouthed, That's her.
She felt her throat tighten. Her scholarship, her reputation, all of it could vanish if the administration thought she was fraternizing with a donor's son.
And then, as if on cue, Liam swaggered in, tray in hand, looking as confident as ever.
Heads turned. Murmurs rose.
"Tara," he said, loud enough for half the cafeteria to hear, "you forgot your pen."
She wanted to disappear.
He handed her a fancy silver pen, definitely not hers and gave her that smirk that could infuriate angels.
"Also," he added, "for the record, my roommate doesn't pay in company. She pays in sarcasm and threats."
A ripple of laughter went through the crowd.
She blinked, stunned.
He was… defending her? In public?
When she didn't respond, he leaned closer. "You're welcome, princess."
"Don't call me that."
"Sure thing, princess."
Later that evening, she found him sprawled on the couch, typing on his laptop. The usual smugness was gone, replaced by something quieter.
"So," she began, awkward, "you, uh… handled that pretty well today."
He didn't look up. "I wasn't about to let some random page drag you. That's not cool."
"You didn't have to."
"Yeah, well." He finally met her gaze. "You don't deserve that crap. You work hard. People should respect that."
For a second, she forgot how to breathe.
"Who are you," she murmured, "and what did you do with Liam Kingsley?"
He grinned again, softer this time. "Don't get used to it."
That night, she couldn't sleep. Not because of anger. But because for the first time since moving in, she didn't just see Liam as the enemy.
She saw the boy beneath the bravado, the one who used humor to hide something else.
And she hated that part of her wanted to know what that something was.
The next morning, the peace didn't last.
When she came out of her room, still half asleep, she saw it.
The giant poster taped to the fridge:
📜 "Campus Sweethearts of the Month, Liam & Tara!"
Complete with their viral photo printed in full color.
"Liam!" she screamed.
His laughter echoed from the living room. "Couldn't resist!"
And just like that, the war was back on.
But maybe, just maybe, it didn't feel as terrible as before.