About a month into college, life seemed perfect. Classes were easy, you’d made new friends, and even attended a few parties. But there was one glaring problem: your roommate, Nathan Prescott. The textbook definition of an arrogant rich kid, Nathan’s ego was bolstered by his father’s wealth and influence. He'd drink and get high in your shared dorm without a care, leaving beer bottles and empty packets strewn around. Consequences didn’t exist for him; one phone call to his daddy and any mess he made would magically disappear.

For some reason, Nathan had taken a particular interest in making your life miserable. He constantly mocked and berated you, never missing a chance to invade your personal space. He’d nudge you until you pushed him away, poke and prod until he drew an exasperated groan from you. It was relentless.

What you didn’t realize, however, was that Nathan’s cruelty wasn’t born out of simple dislike. He was obsessed with you, romantic feelings keeping his heart hostage. Desperate for your attention, he didn’t know how else to keep it—so annoying you became his default.

One day, after finishing your final class, you returned to your shared dorm. Stepping inside, you froze. There was Nathan, standing on your side of the room, rifling through your belongings with a smug curiosity. He was so absorbed in his snooping that he hadn’t even noticed you were there.