Roomies in Arms - Part 2

Everyone in this story is 18+

Lex had vanished—presumably back to his glowing altar of cables and ramen—leaving me in the company of Nick and Jax.

We’d made our way to the kitchen, which was surprisingly clean if you ignored the fact that Lex had taped an anime girl to the fridge door and labeled her "Energy Goddess."

Jax leaned against the counter, barefoot, grinning at nothing in particular.

“So,” Jax asked, gesturing vaguely in my direction, “what’s your story, Seb?”

“Sebastian,” I corrected instinctively, then winced. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

Nick raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

“I’m a midterm transfer,” I said, straightening my posture. “Different campus. Different climate. Quite different people.”

“Different people is right,” Nick muttered under his breath with a smirk.

“I was looking for something… quieter. Smaller. Perhaps something a little more, um, grounded.”

“Grounded?” Jax said. “And you ended up here?”

I glanced down at the anime-girl fridge, then at the motivational poster that read 'Grind or Die.' I swallowed. “Yes. Questionable judgment, I suppose.”

Nick chuckled. “Well, we were in the dorms until recently. Great social scene, horrible for actual living. Now we only share a bathroom with two guys instead of a horde.”

“Plus,” Jax added, “having a kitchen means I can actually cook. Well, microwave. But it’s a process.”

“You cook?” I asked, more intrigued than I meant to sound.

“Scrambled eggs and trauma,” Nick said. “Specialty of ours.”

I let out a reluctant laugh before I caught myself. I didn’t laugh easily. Or well. But something about their dynamic—so natural, so physical, so at ease—was disarming.

Then Lex reappeared from his lair, clutching another can of yerba mate like it owed him rent.

“Are we gossiping without me?” he asked, sipping.

Before we could respond the doorbell rang.

Jax glanced up. “More roommates?”

Lex squinted at the door. “Nah, we’re four total. Unless someone’s bringing a pet monkey, which I would not oppose.”

Nick shrugged and headed for the door. “Maybe it’s packages.”

But it was, of course, more humans.

The door swung open and in walked three guys, loud and laughing.

“We’re the new neig… Shit! Nick? Jax?!” the one in front exclaimed, arms already opening for a hug.

Jax blinked. “Brady?”

Nick groaned. “Oh my god.”

They embraced like old friends reuniting mid-battle. It was warm, chaotic, and a little overwhelming.

Nick turned back toward us. “Sebastian, Lex—these are our former dorm neighbors. That’s Brady—jock, loudmouth, don’t let him near a karaoke mic.”

Brady grinned. “Facts and it seems we are once again neighbors.”

“That’s Dan,” Jax continued, gesturing to the guy in the band tee. “Normal-ish.”

Dan nodded like that was a badge of honor.

“And Cameron, Dan’s soulmate” Nick said, pointing to the tall blond who looked like he belonged in a rowing ad.

Cameron gave a small wave, then flopped into the nearest armchair with casual ownership.

Lex raised his can. “I’m Lex. Chaos goblin, tech savant, libertine. This is Sebastian. Imported. Maybe a British royal, I’m not sure but he seems alright.”

“I—” I began, then stopped. No point correcting them. Again. I nodded with what dignity I could summon.

“So, you guys wanted away from the dorms as well?” Nick asked Cameron.

“We wanted more space,” the taller one—Cameron, I would later learn—added. “Dorm showers were practically a biohazard.”

“Are you, like, a professor?” Brady asked, openly grinning.

“No,” I said tightly. “Just British, I guess.”

“Ah, another one.” he replied, as if that explained everything.

The three of them made themselves at home instantly. Shoes came off, drinks were passed around like candy. I stood near the doorway, mildly horrified but not altogether opposed.

Nick and Jax clearly already had a history with them, falling into old patterns with the kind of ease I envied.

“You were all in the dorms too?” I asked, trying to anchor the conversation.

“Yeah,” Cameron said, popping open a soda. “Loud. Chaotic and absolutely no privacy.”

Dan flopped onto the armrest beside him. “And His Grace couldn’t survive without a private bathroom.”

Brady snorted. “Speaking of nobility—where’s Lord Asher?”

The name caught in my ears like static.

Asher.

Is he British? No. Surely not. Couldn’t be... that Asher.

A common name. Still. I felt something twist low in my stomach.

Nick looked toward the hall. “He’s still with you or did he flee back to England?”

“Still with us, just busy showering forever in his new private bathroom…” Brady said. “But he should be right—”

“Sorry I’m late,” came a voice from behind them, and the air shifted.

I looked up, that voice…

And there he was.

His light brown hair caught the sunlight, framing his face like a halo. He looked every bit the young aristocrat, his sharp jawline and his tall stature. As he removed his Prada aviators, his striking green eyes glimmered.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored jacket that hugged his shoulders just right over a crisp white shirt, he exuded an effortless style. His muscular build was evident, though still less imposing than Brady's. Asher carried himself with the confidence of someone who knew he looked good—and he absolutely did.

His eyes locked on mine.

He stopped cold.

“Well I’ll be damned. Sebastian Renfield?”

My throat went dry. “It’s Tucker-Renfield now, actually.”

Lex blinked. “Wait—you two know each other?”

I blinked, stunned. “Asher. I— I didn’t expect—”

Asher stepped fully into the room, grinning. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“You haven’t changed,” I said quietly, still caught between surprise and something deeper I couldn’t name.

Brady whooped. “Oh this is going to be fun.”

I turned, calmly, and opened the nearest door.

It was, of course, a broom closet.

But still I stepped inside, closed the door, and pressed my forehead against a mop.

Outside, I heard Asher, smug and delighted:

“Well, mates, looks like I’m not the only noble Brit around anymore.”