Chapter 1

During the spring semester of my freshman year, a new confession popped up on the campus feed:

Hey guys, is it totally normal to catch feelings for your roommate's boyfriend?

The moment it went live, the comment section blew up.

I sat right at my desk, listening to my roommate scoff from across the room, laughing about how disgusting that girl was.

Little did she know, I was the one who posted it.

I leaned back in my chair, scrolling through my phone. The replies were already drowning in pure venom.

I tapped on the screenshot to read the full confession:

Hey admin, quick question. Does anyone else get butterflies over their roommate's boyfriend when he’s on FaceTime 24/7? She always leaves him on speaker. His voice is ridiculously hot, and as a total sucker for deep voices, I think I’m genuinely falling for him. I love the way he talks, love how he looks. Every time they call, I do a full face of makeup, put on my shortest skirts, and "accidentally" walk into her camera frame. He’s even mentioned me a few times—saying stuff about her cute roommate. Doesn't that mean he’s noticing me? I’m so into him. Any advice?

It sounded completely shameless. Yet, my heart rate didn’t even spike.

My roommate, Harper, had just stumbled across the post too. She swiveled around in shock, leaning over my shoulder.

"Chloe, did you see this home-wrecking trash?!"

I knew what she was talking about. I was about to nod when I caught her wording. "Home-wrecking trash?"

"Yeah! That’s what everyone in the comments is calling her. She knows her roommate has a man, yet she’s out here trying to steal him."

Harper shoved her screen in my face.

I quietly locked my own phone and scanned her screen instead:

[Zero shame. Literally lusting after her own roommate's guy.]

[Every day on this campus we hit a new low. Imagine being proud of being a side piece.]

[This girl really thinks she’s that girl, huh? Must think she’s a ten. Newsflash, sweetie: guys aren't blind, and nobody wants an easy pick-me.]

[I feel so bad for the roommate. She’s probably totally clueless while this snake schemes behind her back.]

[Her profile picture is cute though. Bet she uses it as bait. Pretty face, rotten soul.]

The top comments were dripping with malice. I didn't bother scrolling further; I had already read the rest earlier.

The profile picture on the post showed a girl's silhouette from behind, standing against the sunset. Slender frame, sundress fluttering in the wind—an effortless, aesthetic shot.

Harper zoomed in on the profile picture, squinting.

"Wait, this pic looks kind of familiar..." Harper tilted her head, thinking hard. "Chloe, why does this look like you?"

I didn't answer.

Seeing my blank face, Harper pulled her phone back with a chuckle. "Nah, definitely just a random Pinterest picture. You’d never do something that gross."

She shook her head. "Don't you think she's disgusting? Like, if you're down that bad, keep it to yourself. Why post it online just to get dragged?"

"Yeah. Literally asking to get dragged," I agreed smoothly, then looked her in the eye. "Do you really think that girl actually likes her roommate's boyfriend?"

Harper looked confused by the question. "Well, she literally said so herself. People like that are just messed up."

Once Harper went back to scrolling and turned away, I let out a slow, quiet breath.

The dorm had barely settled into silence when loud, obnoxious chatter echoed down the hall. The voice grew louder and louder until it stopped right outside our door.

"Babe, hold on a sec, let me grab my keys... Mhm, yep, I'm right outside our room."

The door swung open, and the campus feed's "poor, innocent victim" strutted in.

Ashley was staring down at her screen, locked into a FaceTime call. In her other hand, she dangled an iced coffee, her tone sickeningly sweet:

"Baaaabe~ thanks so much for the coffee! I love you so much, you're the best! Give me a kiss, mwah~"

This exact show played out every single day. A normal person would just text a thank-you, but Ashley lived in mortal fear that we wouldn't know her boyfriend bought her things. Every single gift required a loud, dramatic repeat performance inside the dorm.

Behind me, Harper had already shoved her noise-canceling headphones over her ears, shutting out the world. I pulled my gaze back to my screen, spotting a brand-new comment under the post:

[Am I the only one who thinks this girl is being completely sarcastic?]