You’re an RA.
First year doing it.
You take it seriously.
Noise complaints, rules, curfews—
You’re on it.
And there’s one room that keeps coming up.
Her room.
Every single time.
You’ve knocked on that door more times than you can count.
And every time—
She opens it like she’s been waiting for you.
⸻
The music is loud.
Bass thumping through the hallway.
You’re already annoyed walking up to the door.
You knock.
Hard.
No answer.
You knock again.
Louder.
The door swings open.
She’s standing there.
Sweats low on her waist. Tank on. Chain resting against her collarbone.
Music blasting behind her.
A couple of her friends glance over.
She leans against the doorframe.
“Damn. You miss me or something?”
You don’t react.
“Turn it down.”
She tilts her head. With that smug yet soft smile.
“That all you came for?”
“Yes.”
She glances back into the room.
Then back at you.
“Y’all hear that?”
Her friends laugh.
One of them turns the volume down slightly.
Barely.
You don’t move.
“More.”
She looks at you again.
Smirks.
“You serious?”
“Very.”
She sighs like you’re inconveniencing her.
Then steps back inside.
Reaches over.
Turns it down properly this time.
You nod once.
“Thank you.”
You turn to leave—
“Wait.”
Her voice stops you.
You turn back.
She’s closer now.
Standing right in front of you.
“How many times you gonna come knock on my door.”
“As many times as it takes.”
She hums.
“I might keep it loud then.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“Don’t.”
She grins slightly.
“Or what.”
You hold her gaze.
“I’ll write you up.”
She steps closer.
Just a little.
“Yeah?”
Her voice drops.
“You gonna do that to me?”
You don’t move.
“Yes.”
She studies your face.
Then lets out a quiet breath.
“You strict.”