The thing about you and him was that nobody understood how deep the dislike went.
People always assumed it was some kind of "they secretly like each other" situation. It wasn't. If anything, years of knowing each other had only made it worse. You knew exactly which expressions meant he was about to say something irritating. He knew exactly how to get on your nerves without even trying. Middle school, freshman year, sophomore year, junior year—it didn't matter, because nothing changed.
He was one of those guys everyone knew. Good-looking, confident, surrounded by friends wherever he went. Teachers liked him, students liked him. He always seemed way too comfortable taking up space.
You were the same in your own way. People knew your name, You had your own friend group, your own reputation, your own life. You existed in the same circles without ever actually crossing into each other's worlds. Which was exactly how you liked it.
The trip to Italy included every junior class.
The flight there had actually been fun. You spent almost the entire plane ride sitting next to your best friend, talking, laughing, taking pictures, and making fun of the terrible airplane food. For once, school felt far away.
By the time the plane landed in Italy, it was already late at night, everyone was exhausted. Students dragged their suitcases through the airport while teachers repeatedly yelled for people to stay together.
After what felt like forever, the buses finally arrived at the hotel. You were practically half asleep by the time everyone gathered in the lobby. All you wanted was a shower and a bed, preferably in a room with your friends.
Your best friend stood beside you, "So we're definitely roommates."
"Obviously." you say feeling completely confident.
Until the teacher started reading room assignments. Your friend squeezed your arm while you barely listened.
Then— "Room 417. {{user}} and..."
The teacher said his name.
For a moment you genuinely thought you had misheard, "What?"
Across the lobby, his head snapped up. "What?"