This has been my baby for the past year. It's in part a love letter to my boyfriend, in part a love letter to myself, in whole a celebration of my favorite tropes and bits and pieces of romance media. See below the read-more for a sneak peak.
If you want to read it before it's release, only FOUR more advance review copies are available on booksprout!!
Tropes:
Trans male mc
Forced-proximity
Opposites attract
Enemies to lovers
HEA, no cheating
John pounded on the door for the third time, loud enough to rattle it against its old metal hinges. He folded his arms, scowling as someone on the other side of the door shouted, “turn off the music.” He tapped his foot impatiently, taking note of the sounds of bodies shifting and bottles clinking. He’d need to write that in his report later.
He expected this kind of behavior from freshmen, but this building was mostly upperclassmen like himself. They tended to be smart enough not to throw parties in their rooms, especially not in the room right above an RA. After three years as a Resident Advisor, he was acutely aware of just how thin the walls were.
John was told his role was to “facilitate connections and maximize residents’ enjoyment of their college experience.” That mouthful of a job description was a part of the university’s PR. He was more of a glorified rent-a-cop. When bulletin boards are vandalized, fire alarms are tripped, and drunk college students vomit on the lobby floor, he was the guy who had to clean up and write the paperwork. And unfortunately for him and for the poor souls celebrating a Friday night behind the door, he was in charge of busting parties and taking names.
The door creaked open and a six-foot tall doe-eyed kid braced himself between it and the door frame, blocking John’s view of the rest of the room. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“Could you open the door all the way?”
The kid blinked down at him. After a pause just a tad too long, he said, “Um. No?”
John held himself back from rolling his eyes. “I’m an RA. I need you to open the door so I can see inside.”
He held eye contact with the kid, who broke after a few more seconds, grumbling an excuse as he stepped out of the way.
“Whose room is this?” John asked the crowd.
They were all around his age, dressed in dark clothes, hiding the plastic cups and glass bottles behind their backs. They stared at him nervously, until someone tapped their knuckles on the top pane of the open window. “Hey man, we’re getting busted!”
Long, jean-clad legs and beat-up tennis shoes popped over the window sill. The person they were attached to gracefully climbed down from his seat on the tiled roof.
John was expecting to see some dumb freshman with a handle of vodka in one hand and a joint in the other. He wasn’t expecting to see the cocky guy he’d just met at the orientation for the prestigious scholarship they shared.
Hayden looked him up and down, smirked, then said to the room of people around him, “Hold on a sec, guys. I’ll handle this.”
He placed a hand on John’s shoulder, gently but firmly guiding him to stand just outside his room, then shut the door behind them.
Hayden was seemingly unbothered by the neon flashing of the light-up necklaces resting on his shirt. The messy hairstyle, piercings, and stylish yet casual outfit were all the same as when John first saw him in the Great Hall, chatting with alumni and business school professors. Hayden attended the same orientation meeting that explicitly advised against receiving any type of disciplinary action. And yet, here he was, hosting a party in his dorm room, violating the occupancy policy, noise policy, substance policy, and probably a few dozen more. He was relaxed, while John fumed silently.
Every minute John had spent memorizing policy and procedure for these kinds of rule violations seemed to evaporate into thin air as Hayden’s eyes met his.
Instead of responding cool, collected, and professional, John hissed, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Hayden laughed, leaning his head back against his door. His brown curls brushed the vinyl sticker with his name on it. It was the sticker John had stuck there just a few days previously, in preparation for the fall semester move-in.
“Do we know each other?” he asked.
“We are in the same scholarship cohort,” he said carefully. “I recognize you from the orientation.”
“Hm, that can’t be it,” Hayden tapped a finger on his lip. “Can you give me another detail?”
“Actually, it’s fine if you don’t remember me,” John started, but it was too late.
He winced as recognition flickered in Hayden’s eyes. Hayden’s smooth smile turned into a sly grin that stretched ear to ear.
He snapped his fingers. “You’re the one who —”
“Shut it,” John hissed. He wasn’t prepared to be reminded of his embarrassment.
At orientation, he happened to be speed-walking away from an old high school classmate he’d been trying to avoid. When he saw Hayden, he was startled, and he tripped over his untied shoe, then fell face-first on the floor. The fall itself wouldn’t have been as embarrassing, if he hadn’t reached out in desperation to catch himself and ended up whipping a tablecloth off a nearby table, spilling platefuls of Hor D’oeuvres and wrapping himself in the parachute of blue fabric.
Hayden clapped a hand on John’s shoulder. “I’m so glad I found you. I wanted to thank you for giving me an excuse to exit from the painful conversation I was having with the vice chancellor.”
John’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. He shrugged Hayden’s hand off his shoulder. “I’m happy to be of service, but I don’t have time to talk about that. Right now, I’m only here to talk about whatever's going on in your room.”
Hayden tucked his hands into his pockets and gave John a charming smile. The bright white of his perfect teeth made John’s stomach flip over. “What, are you mad you weren’t invited? Y'know, I wouldn’t have clocked you as the party type.”
“Wha — that’s not — shut up, you know what I’m talking about,” John whispered through his teeth. He looked both ways over his shoulder, ensuring the hall was otherwise empty.
Hayden was putting him in an incredibly difficult position.
John had already violated policy by letting Hayden close the door behind him. He shouldn’t be letting Hayden talk at all. He should be informing him of the policies he was violating, asking for his student ID, documenting every person in his room, and asking him to thoroughly search his room for all of the alcohol present. If there was alcohol, the policy violation would turn into a legal investigation. Getting caught drinking underage, and providing alcohol to other underage students was an automatic boot from the Sentry program.
He knew if he followed housing protocol, the chances of Hayden losing his Sentry scholarship were almost guaranteed.
As he stared up at his smirking face, John couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“You’re violating at least three housing policies right now,” he finally managed to say. “Do you understand what that means?”
Hayden raised an eyebrow. “Obviously. But you’re going to explain it to me anyways, aren’t you?”
John huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Give me your student ID.”
Hayden’s charming smile turned into a frown. Then, his dark eyes flitted up and down John’s body and he licked his upper lip. “I don’t usually invite strangers to my parties, but I can make an exception for someone like you.”
John stiffened. “Excuse me?”
Hayden looked up and down the hallway, then reached for the doorknob with one hand, and held his other hand out to shake John’s. “There’s no need for you to write me up. Come on in, see what all the fuss is about.”
John’s eyes darted between the tattooed forearm outstretched in front of him and Hayden’s winning smile.
“Are you trying to bribe your way out of this?”
Hayden chuckled again, a deep sound that reverberated through John’s rib cage. He pushed off the door behind him and took half a step forward so their chests were only a foot apart. “C’mon, sweetheart, live a little. I’ll even throw in a VIP tour.”
He was suddenly acutely aware of how much taller Hayden was than himself. He grit his teeth and took a clumsy step backwards, trying to put more distance between them, but Hayden’s intense gaze filled the empty space.
“You can’t bribe your way out of getting reported,” John said, his voice more confident than he felt.
“I’m not bribing, we’re just having a discussion. Do you really need to run and tattle-tale? No one’s going to get hurt, we’re just having fun. Fun that you could join in if you wanted.”
John’s head was spinning from an overload of information. Ultimately, if he had to choose between letting Hayden off the hook and potentially risking his job and his scholarship, John would choose himself every time. But this wasn’t a standard policy violation situation. If he turned Hayden in, everyone in their scholarship cohort would know.
John would be violating the camaraderie that made scholarship recipients so well connected. This was the same camaraderie that guaranteed them internship offers before the end of the semester.
He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and Hayden wasn’t making it any easier to think straight, with his blinding smile and absurd offer.
“C’mon, I’m sure you have something you need to relax from.” Hayden egged him on.
That struck a nerve.
John had plenty of things going on in his life he wished he could take a break from. Plenty of things that were none of Hayden’s business.
The difference between John and Hayden was that John knew better than to jeopardize his future for a few hours of fun.
He took a deep breath. “You don’t know what I have going on.” He said, delivering each syllable like a punch. “You’re putting the both of us in a really tough spot right now. Give me your student ID. Now.”
Although Hayden was incredibly charming, John was absolutely not interested in his offer. He was already risking his job by hesitating. He wouldn’t risk it further by taking the bribe. John didn’t care about parties, he cared about affording his education. He wasn’t going to throw his future away for something so temporary and meaningless as dancing in someone’s hot, crowded dorm room.
When he realized John wasn’t playing around, Hayden deflated. He grimaced, but after a moment, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a black leather wallet.
John detected the anxiety in his posture, the way he held his shoulders more stiffly and his fingers began shaking as he flipped through his wallet looking for his student ID card. A twinge ran up his spine, and he looked up and down the hallway once more. There was no one else to witness what he was about to say. He clenched his fists and weighed the options in his head.
Like always, he was treading a very thin tightrope, over a sea of negative possibilities. One wrong move, and he would tumble over the edge. It wasn’t something he could recover from.
And yet, despite Hayden’s annoyingly cocky exterior, John had a shred of empathy for his position. He imagined how it would feel to have his scholarship ripped out from under him.
He took Hayden’s outstretched card, pulled his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture of the front and back. “Someone will reach out to you tomorrow morning. About the noise complaint.” He looked up and gave Hayden a very pointed look. “So keep the noise down. You get me?”
Hayden perked back up again. “You mean…you’re not going to tell them about the party? Or the liquor?”
John winced. “I really wish you wouldn’t have said that.” He couldn’t exactly play dumb anymore after that admission. “Yes, Hayden, God, I’m cutting you some slack. Now keep quiet and don’t make me regret it.”
Hayden’s smile lit up — a more playful version of the charming smirk from a few moments earlier. His smile of relief was boyish and asymmetrical, and he pushed his hair off his forehead to reveal a smattering of freckles John hadn’t noticed before.
“Man, you’re alright. I knew I’d get along with you.”
“You wish,” John muttered.
Ignoring John’s comment, Hayden held his hand out again for a handshake. “What was your name again?”
“Don’t worry about it.” John ignored the offer for a handshake and shoved the student ID back in Hayden’s chest. He turned on his heel to head back towards the stairwell.
“You can still come hang out, if you want!” Hayden called after him as he stomped down the hall.
John grimaced and shook his head. “Trust me, I’m good,” he called over his shoulder.
No exceptions.
That was a rule told to him time and time again regarding university housing policy. Not for someone’s first time being caught, not for friends, and certainly not for fellow scholarship recipients. Connections shouldn’t get anyone out of disciplinary action. John just broke that rule, and if anyone found out, Hayden and him would both be in hot water.
There was a reason John didn’t like to break rules. Not because he cared about the precious sanctity of order in his dorm, but because he didn’t get the benefit of the doubt like other students.
Instead of watching a mind numbing reality TV competition to relax before bed, John furiously typed out a short, watered down report of his confrontation with Hayden, thinking to himself, that was a really, really stupid decision.
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