I'm Not Like Them

Chapter 2

Rania exhaled slowly through her nose, dragging her palms down her face. This was exactly why she never joined them. Men were trouble. Men brought noise, disruption, arrogance. And Avery and Chelsea, for all their glitter and bravado, welcomed it like moths to a flame.

She sat on the edge of her bed, forcing her gaze to the open textbook sprawled across her blanket. Abnormal Psychology. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

But the sounds seeped in anyway—giggles blurred with alcohol, the scrape of a bedframe against the floor, voices dissolving into a haze of liquor and poor choices. Each one clawed at her concentration until the lines on the page broke apart into meaningless ink.

With a low groan, she reached for her headphones on the nightstand. Black, over-ear, her shield against the outside world. Sliding them on, she hovered her thumb over her phone before pressing play. Music swelled instantly, clean and heavy, swallowing the chaos beyond her walls.

The noise dulled, but the irritation lingered.

Rania sank back against her pillows, pulling the comforter up to her chin. In the cocoon of sound, she closed her eyes, willing herself toward sleep. She tried not to think of Avery’s shrill laugh echoing down the hall, or Chelsea’s breathless chatter, or the low rumble of a stranger’s voice woven between them.

Tried not to picture his face, caught for a fleeting moment in the dark hallway earlier—the sharp line of his jaw, the disheveled fall of black hair, eyes she hadn’t meant to meet but did.

Her jaw tightened, banishing the image.

It didn’t matter who he was. He was just another man, another bad decision dragged in from a night soaked in neon lights and reckless intentions. He was theirs, not hers, and she had no reason to let him exist in her world beyond tonight.

And yet, as the music pressed closer against her ears, a restless shiver threaded down her spine.

Because no matter how loudly she played it, she still felt the echo of him there—uninvited, unsettling, and far too close.

***

The sun had barely risen when Rania padded quietly into the kitchen. The apartment was still cloaked in that hushed, bluish light of early morning, and the faint aroma of garlic and fried eggs soon filled the air. She moved with practiced efficiency—cracking eggs, flipping strips of dried fish, arranging rice on plates. Cooking grounded her, gave her a sense of order that erased the restless shiver of the night before.

By the time the table was set, two doors creaked open at once. Avery and Chelsea stumbled out of Avery’s room like synchronized twins, their hair a tousled mess, oversized shirts hanging off their shoulders. They yawned loudly, stretching their arms as if waking from a year-long hibernation.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Avery mumbled before wrapping her arms around Rania’s waist from behind. Chelsea followed, draping herself dramatically over Rania’s shoulder. They sandwiched her with affection, cheeky grins tugging at their lips.

Rania huffed a laugh despite herself. “You two act like I’m your mother.”

“No,” Chelsea said, squeezing her tighter, “you’re our wife. Our hot, hot wife.”

“Speak for yourself,” Avery added with mock solemnity, planting a quick kiss on Rania’s cheek. “She’s mine.”

Rania rolled her eyes and nudged them both toward the table, but there was no real protest in her tone. She was used to their chaotic affection; it was like trying to cage fireworks—impossible, and secretly endearing. They sat down, still giggling and elbowing each other, when Avery’s eyes flicked toward the closed bedroom door. She froze.

Rania noticed. She set her fork down deliberately, her gaze sharp. “Why hasn’t your guest come out yet?”

For a heartbeat, both Avery and Chelsea looked like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar—wide-eyed, blank. Then, as if remembering in unison, they exchanged a guilty glance. “Oh,” Chelsea said slowly, dragging out the word. “He’s, uh, still sleeping.”

Rania slid into the chair across from them, her plate untouched. She raised a brow, voice flat but edged with quiet steel. “I honestly thought you two wouldn’t get up at all after drowning yourselves in alcohol last night. And now I find out you dragged a man in here?”

Chelsea blinked at her, smile faltering. “Jeez, Rania, don’t look at me like that. We met him at the club. He said he’s looking for an apartment to stay in, so—”

“So you brought him here to recommend ours?” Rania cut in, shaking her head slowly. “Girls, seriously. Be careful. You don’t know anything about that man.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, low and warning. “We’re all girls in this apartment. What you did was reckless. Do you understand that?”

Her fork hovered in the air, pointed accusingly at both of them. They exchanged another guilty glance, shifting in their seats like scolded schoolgirls. “This won’t happen again, huh?” Rania pressed. “When he wakes up, give him some food and then get him out of here.”

“Fine, fine,” they chimed together, raising their hands in surrender. They knew better than to argue when Rania put on that tone.

Chelsea leaned across the table, grinning. “But don’t frown so much. You’re too pretty when you’re angry—it’s dangerous.”

“Yeah,” Avery added with a laugh. “Wrinkles age you faster, babe. And we can’t have our gorgeous roommate turning into a granny before her time.”

Rania exhaled, trying to look stern, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “I’m not angry. I’m just saying you two should be more careful.”

“Oh, she’s angry,” Chelsea teased, nudging Avery.

“Totally angry,” Avery agreed, her grin widening.

Rania shook her head and finally dug into her plate. The three of them fell into chatter, teasing and bantering in the way only best friends could—half affection, half mischief. But beneath Rania’s laughter, a part of her still thought about the closed door at the end of the hall.

The stranger was still there.

And she wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the way his eyes had caught hers in the dark.