Nothing But Danger (Tyler Galpin x Reader)

The Rules of Room #17

Weems' shapely silhouette haunted the top of the staircase, an unwelcome ghost in a pale-jade dress. Behind her, Rowan and Xavier lingered, like Ursula's thug eels from The Little Mermaid. Traitors.

"I've spoken with your roommates. We have much to discuss."

You winced, sheepishly leaning against the oak, anaconda-thick banister that twined alongside the staircase. You'd hoped to evade snobby Weems and her irrational curfew. 

"Miss Austin," Weems sternly said, towering over you like an ethereal, black apparition from the top of the stairs. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"While I'd love to stay and chat about Christmas Past," you sarcastically evaded, "I have to be up early for Outcast Anatomy at 8:15." You briskly bounded up the stairs, two steps at a time, and shouldered around Weems.

"If you'd wanted a full night's rest, you shouldn't have missed curfew," Weems sniffed, clamping a delicate, manicured hand on your shoulder. Weems was one of those gifted individuals who could make anyone feel as if they'd done something horribly, sinfully wrong.  

"It's not my fault I missed curfew," you defended, flashing glares at Xavier and Rowan. They'd probably rejoiced to report you in their crusade to kick you out. "There was a gun and everything. Ask your pet sheriff." 

"I will ask him," Weems declared, rather unsympathetically. "In the meantime, I regret to inform you that all of you, (y/n) included, will stay in room 17 for the remainder of the semester."

"But why?" Rowan whined, staring at Xavier for backup. Xavier heaved a sulky, dramatic sigh, as if sharing a room with you was as low on his to-do list as kissing a wombat. 

"Yeah, why?" You challenged. "I'm not particularly married to either of them." 

"Because I am the principle," Weems frigidly stated, straightening her professional posture. She deflated slightly, exhaling. "And because telekinetics have a tendency toward madness." 

"So, you think Rowan and I are going to go insane unless we live together?" 

"I think, as the only two telekinetics in the school, it would be propitious for you to room together. Perhaps you can help control each other." Weems brusquely swept down the staircase, abandoning you with Rowan and Xavier. "My decision is final. Goodnight." 

"Thanks for telling Weems, guys," you sarcastically said, shoving open the creaky door to your dorm. "I'm so glad we're building a trusting, fuzzy relationship." 

"It's not personal," Xavier pointed out, following you inside. You squinted at Xavier. You got the strangest feeling that he used that aloof sentence a lot. 

"We need to make a contract," Rowan bossily declared, waving a thin sheet of lined paper in the air. You raised your eyebrows, intrigued.

"A contract," Xavier incredulously repeated. "Can't we just play it by ear? Nevermore has enough rules as it is." Xavier was opposed to the contract. That was all it took to convince you. 

"I'm down," you snatched a purple gel glitter pen from a mason jar on your desk. An obnoxious, faux peacock feather coiled out from the top. On Rowan's paper, you wrote "Roomie Rules" in swooping, violet cursive letters. Xavier scoffed, but Rowan clasped his pale hands together, pleased. 

"Rule #1: No morning showers," you cackled, shooting a delightfully wicked look at Xavier. You didn't feel bad. Besides, you sort of needed the bathroom for morning makeovers. 

"We're really doing this?" Xavier huffed, nodding in disbelief with his tongue in his cheek. Rowan nodded encouragingly, jotting down the first rule. "Fine." He smiled cheekily, toeing your 12th pair of high heels, lined neatly on the floor. You gasped in protest as it tumbled over. "Rule #2: Put your shoes away." 

"Where am I supposed to put them?" You groaned. Xavier gave a "not-my-problem" shrug. He smugly leaned back, hands propped behind him on his bed. 

"Rule #3," Rowan continued, blissfully unaware. After an aggravating thirty minutes of chaotic debates, veiled attacks, and thorough scribbling, Rowan reverently pasted the final draft on the wall, scotch tape pinning down its corners. 

Roomie Rules

Rule #1: No morning showers

Rule #2: Put your things away (especially shoes)

Rule #3: No nudity

Rule #4: No tattling 

Rule #5: No loud music

Rule #6: No painting in the dorm

Rule #7: No making out in the dorm

Rowans final, nonnegotiable rule had made both Xavier and you groan audibly. 

"You can't be hooking up with people in here," Rowan had firmly asserted, shoving his glasses up his nose with decisiveness. "It's rude and it makes everyone uncomfortable." 

At 2am in the morning, Rowan finally allowed Xavier to switch off the light. Drenched in exhaustion, you flopped onto your mattress. Morning classes tomorrow would be hell. 

"Goodnight, Xavier. 'Night, Rowan," you mumbled, proud of yourself for making the charitable gesture. 

"Goodnight," they echoed in drowsy unison. Like shifting sand, you felt a habit settling into place.

Silence. 

"My girlfriend's going to kill me over that last rule," Xavier absentmindedly said to the dark ceiling. 

"You have a girlfriend?" You snickered, a little surprised. "Who is she?" 

"Bianca." 

Your stomach dropped in disgust. Bianca, the catty, self-impressed girl who'd humiliated you, had kissed your roommate. 

Ugh. Bringing her down would be harder than you'd thought.