CHAPTER THREE
THE AGREEMENT
Elise
The housing office smells like stale coffee and desperation.
We’re all crammed into a conference room that’s too small for the emotions it’s trying to contain: me, Grant, Wyatt, and Jordie. Four people who should not be living together. Four people who are about to sign a legally binding document saying we will.
The administrator is a woman in her fifties, wearing a pantsuit and an aggressively cheerful smile. Her name tag says Carol.
Carol has no idea what she’s walking into.
“Good morning!” She’s practically chirping. “I’m so glad you could all make it. This won’t take long.”
Grant sits as far from me as physically possible. His hand is bandaged—white gauze wrapped around his palm from the broken vodka bottle. Nobody mentions it.
Wyatt is next to him, one leg bouncing under the table. His eyes keep flicking to the door like he’s calculating escape routes. I don’t know his story yet, but I know that look. It’s the same one I wore in every meeting with my high school guidance counselor.
Jordie is across from me, sprawled in his chair like he doesn’t have a care in the world. But his smile is too bright. Too forced.
And I’m gripping my pen so hard my knuckles have gone white.
“Now.” Carol spreads papers across the table. “Crestmont takes cohabitation very seriously. We want to ensure all residents feel safe and respected.”
“Sounds great,” Jordie says. “When do we get to the part where we sign in blood?”
Nobody laughs.
Carol’s smile doesn’t waver. “These agreements are designed to prevent conflicts before they arise. First rule—no overnight guests of a romantic nature.”
My eyes flick to Grant. He’s staring at the wall like it’s fascinating.
“Define romantic,” Jordie says.
Carol blinks. “I’m sorry?”
“Like, what qualifies as romantic? Does making out count? Or is it just full penetrative—”
“Dickson.” Grant’s voice is flat. “Shut up.”
“I’m just asking for clarification. Because if I meet a smoking hot co-ed who’s down to f—”
“No overnight guests,” Carol repeats, her smile straining. “Of any nature that could be considered… intimate.”
“So no sex,” I say. Might as well be direct about it.
Carol’s face goes pink. “Correct.”
“In our own rooms?” Jordie leans forward. “Or like, anywhere in the house? Because that seems—”
“Anywhere in or around the premises.”
Wyatt snorts. “Good luck enforcing that.”
Carol’s smile is definitely cracking now. “Second rule. All residents must remain fully clothed in shared spaces.”
I think about Grant shirtless last night. Jordie with no shirt during the underwear incident. The way my body reacted to both.
“Define fully clothed,” Jordie says.
“Oh my—” I press my fingers to my temples. “Can we just agree to wear pants in the kitchen?”
“I don’t wear pants in the kitchen.” Jordie grins at me. “Fair warning.”
“Please wear pants,” Carol says weakly.
“Boxers count, right?” Jordie asks.
Grant’s jaw ticks. “You’ll wear pants. Or I’ll make you wear pants.”
“Kinky,” Jordie stage-whispers to me.
I bite back a laugh. Can’t give him the satisfaction.
“Quiet hours,” Carol continues, clearly desperate to move on. “Ten PM to seven AM. No loud music, no parties, no—”
“No sex,” Jordie finishes. “Got it. Which for the record is fucking horrible. Does that include getting my dick s—”
Grant coughs loudly to drown out Jordie’s last question.
Thank God.
Wyatt’s leg is bouncing faster now. “Can we speed this up?”
“Almost done.” Carol’s smile is hanging on by a thread. “No touching each other’s food or belongings without permission. You are to provide a forty-eight-hour notice for any gatherings—”
“What if it’s spontaneous?” Jordie asks.
“Then it’s not allowed.”
“That seems restrictive.”
“It’s policy.”
“Policy seems boring.”
Grant’s hand curls into a fist on the table. The bandaged one. I watch the white gauze strain.
“Can we just sign this?” I cut in. “We all understand the rules. No sex, no nudity, no fun. Got it.”
Carol looks at me like I’m her favorite person in the room. “Exactly. Now, there are consequences for violations—”
“Let me guess,” Wyatt says. “We get kicked out.”
“Well. Yes. After three written warnings—”
“Three?” Jordie grins, that dimple appearing. “So we get two freebies?”
“That’s not—” Carol takes a deep breath. “The point is to avoid violations entirely.”
“Right. Of course.” Jordie’s foot brushes mine under the table.
I move my foot.
He grins wider.
Grant notices. His eyes narrow.
“Does that include—” Jordie starts.
“Yes,” Grant, Wyatt, and I say simultaneously.
“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”
“Don’t care,” Wyatt says.
I look at Carol. “Is that it?”
“Yes. If you’ll all just sign—”
She slides the contract across the table. I sign first. My signature is sharp. Decisive. Like I’m not signing away my sanity.
Wyatt signs next. His signature is barely legible. Fast, like he wants this over with.
Jordie takes his time. Makes a show of reading every line even though we all know he’s not actually reading. When he signs, his signature has a flourish.
“You’re ridiculous,” I tell him.
“You love it,” he shoots back.
Grant signs last. He doesn’t look at the paper. Just scrawls his name and pushes it back to Carol.
“Wonderful.” Carol gathers the papers like they might bite her. “You’re all set. Remember, these rules are for your safety and comfort—”
“Got it.” Grant stands. “We’re done here.”
We file out. The hallway is too bright after the dim conference room. My eyes water.
“That was fun,” Jordie says. “We should do it again sometime.”
“Please don’t,” Wyatt mutters.
Grant is already walking away. Fast, like he can’t get away from us quick enough.
Jordie falls into step beside me. “So. No overnight guests of a romantic nature.”
“You heard Carol.”
“I did. Very clearly.” His voice drops lower. “Does that rule apply if the guest is already a resident?”
I stop walking. Look at him.
He’s grinning. All golden boy charm and trouble with his sandy blond hair falling into those bright blue eyes, dimples on full display even though his smile is too forced.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I’ve been told.” He leans in slightly, close enough that I can smell his cologne—something expensive and woodsy. “But you didn’t answer the question.”
“The question was stupid.”
“That’s not a no.”
“It’s not a yes either.”
“I’ll take it.” His grin widens. “For now.”
I start walking again. He keeps pace.
“You know he’s gonna make this hell, right?” Jordie jerks his head toward Grant’s retreating figure. “The whole possessive captain thing.”
“He doesn’t get to be possessive. He made that clear.”
“Oh, sweet summer child.” Jordie’s laugh is warm. “You really think that matters?”
“I think he doesn’t get a vote.”
“Agree completely. But he’s gonna act like he does anyway.” Jordie’s hand brushes my arm. Light. Casual. “Fair warning.”
“Noted.”
“Also.” He stops at the building exit. “If you need someone to help you break literally any of those rules, I’m your guy.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Because you’re smart. And observant.” His eyes are bright blue in the sunlight. “And you notice things.”
“Like what?”
“Like the way Grant couldn’t stop staring at you the entire meeting even though he was trying really hard to pretend you don’t exist.”
My stomach flips. “He wasn’t—”
“He was. Trust me.” Jordie’s grin turns sharp. “Also the way Wyatt’s been watching you since last night. Also the way you’re trying really hard not to care about any of it.”
“I don’t care.”
“Liar.”
The word hits differently coming from him than it did from Grant. Lighter. Playful instead of painful.
“You don’t know me,” I say.
“Not yet.” He starts walking backward, still facing me. “But I’m a quick learner.”
Then he turns and jogs to catch up with Wyatt.
I stand there for a moment, processing.
No overnight guests. No sex. Stay in my lane.
I’m going to break every single one of those rules.
Not because Jordie dared me to. Not because Grant told me not to.
But because I came here to take control of my life.
And nobody—not Carol, not the university, and definitely not Grant freaking Wilder—gets to tell me what I can and can’t do with my body.
I pull out my phone. Text Sarah.
Me: First day at Crestmont. Already signed a contract promising not to fuck my roommates.
Her response is immediate.
Sarah: How many roommates?
Me: Three.
Sarah: How hot?
I look down the path where the guys disappeared. Grant’s broad shoulders. Wyatt’s lean frame. Jordie’s golden boy energy.
Me: That’s not relevant.
Sarah: That’s not an answer.
Me: I’m hanging up now.
Sarah: YOU’RE NOT ON THE PHONE
Me: You know what I mean.
I shove my phone in my pocket and head toward my first class.
Advanced anatomy. The universe has a sense of humor, apparently.
Time to prove I belong here.
Even if my roommates are determined to make me forget why I came.