The Roommate Pact: No Strings Attached

The next afternoon, the sky over Manhattan turned a bruised, sickly purple. A heavy humidity hung in the air, the kind that preceded a violent storm.

Inside Unit 4B, the tension was just as thick.

Kiera was sitting at the dining table, a stack of papers in front of her. Brendon was on the sofa, a textbook open on his lap, but his eyes were on her.

"I finished the agreement," Kiera said, not looking up.

She slid a piece of paper across the table. Brendon got up and picked it up.

1. No guests without 24-hour notice.

2. Quiet hours start at 10 PM.

3. No use of the other person's personal items (this includes the Netflix account, Brendon).

4. Absolute secrecy. No one can know we live together.

Brendon read the last one twice. "Absolute secrecy? Why? Are you ashamed of me?"

Kiera finally looked at him. Her eyes were hard. "I'm a freshman, Brendon. I'm trying to rebuild my life. If people find out I'm living with the 'Simp of Sigma Chi,' I'll never be taken seriously. Especially in the music department."

"The Simp," Brendon repeated, the words tasting like ash. "Is that what you call me?"

"That's what everyone calls you," she said. "I don't want to be part of your circus."

Brendon signed the paper without another word. He felt a sudden, sharp anger. He wanted to tell her that he was doing this for her. He wanted to tell her that he was protecting her from the fallout of his family's crimes.

But he'd made a pact. No past.

A low rumble of thunder shook the windows. Kiera flinched, her hand flying to the edge of the table.

Brendon noticed. He remembered. Kiera had always been terrified of storms. When they were together, she used to hide under the covers, and he would play her favorite movies until she fell asleep.

"It's just a storm, Kiera," he said, his voice softening.

"I know what it is," she snapped, though her face had gone pale.

She began gathering her papers with frantic movements. Another bolt of lightning flashed outside, followed almost instantly by a deafening crack of thunder.

The lights in the apartment flickered.

Kiera froze. Her breathing became shallow and fast.

"Kiera?" Brendon stood up.

"I'm fine," she whispered, though she was clearly anything but.

She turned and headed for her room, but as she reached the hallway, the lights flickered one last time and then died completely.

The apartment was plunged into total, suffocating darkness.