Chapter 2

I missed Freshers' Week Bootcamp because of a minor car accident.

Fortunately, the injury wasn’t too bad—just some swelling on my face.

George, my brother, couldn’t help himself: “Your face looks like a painter’s palette—probably best to stay indoors for now.”

But when I finally sorted out all my paperwork and arrived at Ashcroft Halls, his face was the one with red and blue streaks.

"I don’t like speaking ill of women, but you’ve got an odd one in your flat. Keep your distance."

I laughed at his overreaction and shooed him away, then eagerly pushed open the door to my new room.

“You’re Holly Sutton?”

A girl’s eyes scanned me up and down.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

“Give me your boyfriend’s WhatsApp. Though, tell him not to get his hopes up—I'm not interested in broke blokes. It’s all about their effort.”

My boyfriend? What on earth?

The girl covered her mouth and giggled. “Can’t blame you. It’s my overwhelming charm. Every man fancies me—it’s exhausting, really.”

I was completely dumbfounded.

“Wait, you’re saying my brother... fancies you?”

My nephew’s already old enough to go on errands, love. Also, my sister-in-law, Emily, is a former beauty queen.

“Your brother? You’re so ugly, you look nothing like him. Are you trying to save face by lying to me?”

Okay, I admit George is a bit on the handsome side, but as the son of a factory owner, he spends all day in the workshop, not exactly dressed to impress. And here I was, with bandages on my face, swollen eyes, looking like an absolute toad.

“Whatever, just give it to me. I don’t have time to waste on men like him.”

“Wait a sec, why do you think my brother likes you?” I finally asked, unable to hold it in any longer.

She huffed.

“Your brother’s gaze lingered on me for ten seconds. Then, he looked straight into my eyes and said thank you. If that’s not a blatant invitation, I don’t know what is!”

Mate, your eyeliner looks like it’s drawn with two thick ropes, and your lips are blood red. The fact my brother didn’t run away screaming is a miracle.

I watched as she held out her phone with two fingers, as if she was doing me a favor.

I slapped it out of her hand.

“You’ve got some nerve! Did you get delusional after a pint? You’ve got a death wish if you think you can mess with me. What, did you walk straight out of surgery and forget to empty the rubbish in your brain? My sister-in-law could roll out of bed and still look twenty times better than you. Seriously, grab a mirror from Primark and have a reality check!”

My tirade left everyone in the room frozen.

I shoved past Jess and headed to my bed.

Only to discover that my anger had hit a whole new level.

My bed was covered in clothes and dirty socks—it looked like a landfill site.

“Whose clothes are these? Clear them off, this is my bed.”

Someone gave me a nudge, signaling with their eyes. "That’s Jess Price’s stuff."

"Jess, come clear your things." I repeated.

Jess snapped out of her daze and glared at me like her eyes were on fire.

“You’re new here and don’t know the rules. At home, my mum always cleans up after me. I don’t do chores.”

I looked around and saw a few sympathetic faces. Clearly, they had been dealing with her nonsense for quite some time.

“You don’t do chores? Fine, I’ll handle it.”

I rolled up my sleeves, gathered all the clothes on my bed, kicked open the door, and tossed them into the hallway.

Someone had just mopped the floor, so the clothes landed in puddles. Couldn’t have timed it better.

Jess’s mouth dropped, and she let out a high-pitched scream.

“You’re mad! That was my favorite outfit!”

“Was it? Well, that’s just brilliant, then,” I replied, shaking out my wrists, feeling thoroughly satisfied with myself.

Jess was still screaming and hopping about, probably gearing up to hit me. But at 5'8" and a regular at the gym, she quickly thought better of it. She glared at me one last time before stomping out of the room.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Baines, our halls manager, arrived.