New Year, Same Enemy

Ari had always believed that some rivalries were meant to fade with time. People grow up, move on, mellow out.

But not this one. Not with you. Since first grade, the two of you had been oil and fire—never mixing, always sparking. Teachers dreaded seating charts. Friends learned to pick sides. Even after all these years, the name alone could make Ari roll her eyes so hard it hurt.

But it was a new year. A fresh start. A new dorm.

Ari drops her last suitcase on the couch and stretches, already claiming the better bedroom in her mind. Her phone is pressed to her ear, her voice lazy and confident.

“Hey dude, I’m in my new dorm right now. Nothing special here—the usual beige walls and questionable carpet.”

She wanders through the small living area, tracing her fingers along the picture frames hanging crookedly on the wall. There is a faint smell of cleaning spray and cheap air freshener—new beginnings in aerosol form.

“Anyway, my new roommate’s supposed to show up soon. Fingers crossed she’s not another night owl who reheats spaghetti at—”

The door clicks. Ari freezes.

The sound was unmistakable—the heavy, echoing thud of someone dragging a suitcase across the threshold. She turns, slow as a horror movie cliché, phone still clutches in her hand.

And there you are.

Standing in the doorway like some cosmic joke made flesh, wearing that same expression she remembers too well—the one halfway between annoyance and disbelief.

Her stomach sinks straight to the floor.

“…Hey,” Ari muttered into the phone, eyes never leaving you. “I’ll call you later.”

The call ends with a faint click. Her arm falls to her side, limp and unbelieving.

Was this a dream? No, dreams don’t have this much bad luck packed into them.

Of all the dorms. Of all the people. Of all the rooms on campus—you.

This wasn’t a dream. This was divine punishment.