Page 3 of My Roommate from Hell
I hand over the stack of paper and put my license on top of it.
“Thank you,” he says, taking a moment to read my license. “Owen.”
I fight the blush I feel coming on with everything I have.
He scans the forms, then hands me a new one.
“Just need your signature,” he says. At the back of the office, two staff members are whispering and staring at me. They fall silent when they notice me watching. What is going on?
I hand back the form and the pen, swapping them for a welcome brochure and a key card.
“Your room’s on the third level,” says the receptionist. “You can take the elevator or the stairs, your choice. And hey, good luck.”
“Um, thanks.”
Mom and I go over to the ancient elevator and I press the brass button. This is the kind of elevator that looks like it could break at any moment. Surely that’s why he wished me luck. Why else would he?
Outside, the protest is still going. They’ll go away eventually, right? And I’m sure my worries of being caught in the crosshairs of an order of demon hunters is unfounded. Hopefully. Mom and I go into the elevator, and the doors close behind us.
I look at my key card. It doesn’t feel totally real to me yet, and I’m worried that it all could be snatched away. I’ve been distantly stressed for months that I’m going to be told there’s an issue withmy scholarship, that it actually was supposed to go to some other Owen Greene and I’m fresh out of luck. Given Mom and Dad’s money situation, I’d need loans to study here if I didn’t have the scholarship, and the thought of that much debt is not my idea of a good time.
I catch Mom looking at me.
“Here’s good,” I say, because I can tell what she’s thinking. “Promise.”
“I just want it to be perfect for you.”
It’s a nice thought, and I really do appreciate it. But that’s not possible, because Ashley’s not here. All the demon stuff and scholarship worries would be easier to deal with if things were the way they should be. Clark Hall is a co-ed dorm, so she’d maybe even be in the same building.
Instead, she hasn’t even read my message yet.
The elevator stops, and the doors open. The third-level hallway is loud and chaotic. A pair of guys are having a NERF gun battle, someone is playing electronic music, and a girl has set up a ring light and is standing in front of a dorm room filming herself.
Mom and I go down the hall, dodging the other students and NERF bullets until we reach the room with the number on it matching my key card. Room 387.
We stop in front of it.
I can hear voices through the door. I’m not exactly eager about the prospect of having to share a room with someone, but I’ve read online that that’s normal, and for a lot of people, it becomes their favorite part of college, where they meet a friend they have for the rest of their lives. My roommate’s a guy called Rohit. We’ve messaged a few times and he seems really nice, and I’m hoping we become friends. It could just as easily not work out and turn into a nightmare, but I don’t want to think about that.
I knock on the door and hang back. Even though I have a key, I figure it’s better to be polite.
I stand up straighter and try my best to look like a good roommate. Someone friendly, quiet, and clean. I picked my outfit today, my nicest jacket over a button-down and jeans, for that very reason.
The door opens, and it takes me a moment to figure out exactly who I’m looking at.
Because standing there, smiling at me, is none other than the king of Hell.
CHAPTER TWO
“Hello!” he says.
I blink as my brain struggles to catch up to what I’m seeing. There’s no mistaking him because he’s extremely famous. He is the king of an entire other dimension, after all.
Even with that title, he does look mostly human. His pitch-black hair is perfectly swept back, accentuating his killer jawline and contrasting with his skin, which is as pale as carved stone. His dark brown eyes are warm but give off a sense of keen intelligence, and are flecked with orange embers. His outfit is as immaculate as his personal grooming: black suit over a silky black shirt, the only pop of color being his red tie square.
He should not be here. And not because I don’t believe in demons or anything.
If I’m meeting anyone’s parents now, it should be Rohit’s. I should not be standing in front of Maleilius, the king of Hell.
