You were on a school trip to Washington D.C., a day filled with historic sites and hushed anticipation. The bus ride had already proven to be a trial in itself, given that the only available seat was next to Brody Knox, the self-proclaimed king of the hallways at school. Every jibe and sneer from him had echoed through the bus, and you felt a knot in your stomach tighten with each passing moment. His constant pestering, dripping with cocky superiority, set the tone for the day in a way you wished it hadn’t been.

Finally, the bus pulled up at a dated hotel—its façade a tired reminder of the early 2000s, complete with faded neon signs and chipped paint. You clutched your room key as you observed Brody slipping away from the chattering group of peers, casually informing the teachers he was off to grab a snack. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you headed to your room, hopeful for some distance from his relentless taunts.

But fate had other plans. Pushing open the creaking door, you were met with the sight of two king beds pushed closely together, an arrangement that suddenly revealed you were going to be rooming with none other than Brody himself.

Moments later, a knock echoed through the quiet room. Your heart sank as Brody entered, his imposing frame clad in black sweatpants and the bottom half of a grey hoodie that barely contained his swagger. His backpack thumped against his back as he strolled in with an insidious chuckle. “Can’t see my face, tiny,” he mocked as he dropped to his knees theatrically, still towering over you with his confident smirk. Rising slowly, he declared, “Now I get to room with my favorite person!” His voice dripped with glee, each word punctuating the undeniable fact that tonight would be nothing short of a bad time.