The first week flew by faster than Sage had expected.
The lectures were stimulating,. She had already filled half her notebook with notes. Her professors were stern and the business school buzzed with ambition. It was exactly where she wanted to be.
But the one thing she hadn't quite managed to adjust to was Jaxon.
On the surface, everything seemed fine. They said polite hellos, shared occasional joke and generally stayed out of each other's way. But beneath the politeness was a growing tension—an invisible line that seemed to tighten with every passing day.
It wasn't just that he was a guy. It was everything else. The little things, the way he lived, the things he did without even thinking.
It started with the kitchen.
Sage had spent the entire night cleaning it—wiping down the counters, organizing the spices she brought and lining the cabinets with shelf paper. She took pride in a tidy space.
But Jaxon didn't seem to share it.
By the fourth morning, Sage walked into the kitchen to find a half-eaten slice of pizza on a paper towel, an open bag of chips on the counter, and a sink full of dishes.
Her jaw tightened.
She placed her mug on the counter with more force than necessary and crossed her arms. The sound of running water came from the bathroom, followed by the thud of the door opening.
Jax stepped out shirtless, towel draped around his waist, his damp hair dripping onto the floor as he headed toward the fridge. He stopped when he saw her his eyebrows raised.
"Oh. Morning," he said casually, opening the fridge door.
She stared at him her lips pressed into a tight line.
He noticed her silence and glanced at the mess behind him, and scratched his neck. "Sorry about that I meant to clean it up after my shower."
"Right," Sage said, her voice clipped. "You meant to."
He raised an eyebrow, shutting the fridge door. "Is there a problem?"
"This isn't a frat house. It's a shared space and I'm not your maid."
"Whoa, okay," he said, holding up both hands.
"You left food out all night. You didn't wash your dishes. And—" she gestured to the puddles trailing behind him, "—you're dripping water everywhere. Again."
He looked down at the floor, then back at her. "It's just water."
"It's my floor too."
He sighed and grabbed a paper towel, bending to wipe the droplets. "Look, I get it. You like things tidy. That's cool. But maybe don't go full control freak on me before I've had breakfast?"
Sage's eyes widened. "Control freak?"
"I didn't mean it as an insult," he said quickly, straightening up. "It's just—you've been on edge all week. Maybe cut me some slack."
Sage folded her arms tighter. "I didn't ask to live with someone who leaves his dirty laundry in the hallway and sings in the shower at 2 a.m."
"I wasn't singing," he said with a smirk. "I was humming.''
She glared at him. "This isn't funny."
Jax face grew more serious, his tone softening. "Look, Sage. I'm not trying to make things difficult. But I've always lived pretty laid back. I clean eventually, I don't freak over crumbs. It's just how I am."
"Well, maybe your last roommate tolerated that, but I won't," she snapped.
He stared at her for a second, then turned toward his room. "Fine. I'll clean up."
Sage watched him walk away, frustration burning under her skin. She didn't like confrontation, but she also refused to let herself be walked over. She'd worked too hard to get here—to have it disrupted by someone who thought 'eventually' was good enough.
She stormed off to her room, slamming the door shut. The walls trembled slightly at the impact.
An hour later, she emerged with her bag slung over her shoulder, heading to her afternoon lecture. As she passed the living room, she noticed the kitchen was spotless. Every dish was washed and stacked and the counters wiped the foor was also dry. Even the half-eaten pizza was gone.
---
That night, she came home to find Jaxon on the couch watching something on his laptop. The volume was up loud enough that she could hear the explosions from across the room.
She tried to ignore it and headed to the fridge for a bottle of water. But the noise grated on her nerves.
"Can you turn that down?" she asked.
"What?"
"I said, can you turn it down?"
He paused his video "I didn't know it was bothering you."
He raised his eyebrows. "You literally play lo-fi beats on a speaker while you study. Like… loud enough for the neighbors to hear."
"That's different."
"How?"
"It's study music and it's soothing."
He gave her a look. "It's repetitive as hell."
She narrowed her eyes. "So now we're criticizing my music taste?"
"No, I'm just saying—if we're keeping score, you're not exactly noise-free either."
They stared at each other for a long moment. Then, Sage sighed, turning away. "This isn't working."
Jax sat up straighter. "What's not working?"
"This. Us. Living together."
He was quiet for a second. "So what do you want to do?"
"I don't know. Maybe talk to housing again. Find someone to switch with. We clearly aren't compatible."
He leaned back against the couch, rubbing his temple. "You know, I thought we were doing okay. I've been trying."
"Trying?" she laughed dryly. "Leaving your towel on the bathroom floor is trying?"
He stood his face hardening. "You know what? You're right. This isn't working. But don't act like you're perfect. You treat this apartment like it's your kingdom, and I'm just some peasant messing it up."
She blinked, taken aback. "That's not true."
"It is. You want everything your way. And I get it—you've got a plan. You've got rules. But life doesn't always follow them, Sage."
She felt her face heat, a mixture of anger and embarrassment rising. "At least I have standards."
"And maybe if you loosened up a little, you'd realize not everything needs to be controlled."
The silence between them was deafening.
Finally, he turned and walked to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Sage stood frozen, her fingers tightening around her water bottle.