Chapter 3: Runaway Roommates and Kitchen Disasters

Before I could finish, two strangers shoved me aside, scrambling to shake Alex’s hand.

No way, that fast…

A crowd gathered in seconds, people whispering, phones whipped out to snap pics. Alex’s face went pale, like he’d just seen a ghost.

People crowded in, eyes wide and starstruck. Alex looked helpless, glancing at me for backup.

He mouthed, “Help!” I nodded, already plotting our escape route.

I mouthed, “You got this!” even though I had no clue what to do.

He shot me a pleading look. I gave him a thumbs-up, trying to look reassuring even though I was just as lost.

Soon, it was a full-on mob. I grabbed a random baseball cap, squeezed in, and jammed it on Alex’s head. “Hide your face, come on!”

I yanked him by the wrist, weaving through the crowd like we were dodging TMZ. Someone shrieked, and I nearly lost my grip on Alex.

I dragged him out, elbows flying, people screaming like we were Taylor Swift and her secret boyfriend.

We ducked behind a vending machine, breathless and wild-eyed. The crowd was still chanting Alex’s name. Total chaos.

We finally got clear, but the mob wasn’t done yet. Alex scooped me up, sprinted away, grabbed two rental bikes, and we pedaled like we were in the Tour de France until we lost them.

I nearly wiped out twice, but adrenaline kept me upright. When we finally ditched the mob, we parked behind a convenience store, both of us gasping like we’d just run a marathon.

Leaning against a wall, I wheezed, “Why am I invisible, but you’re a total heartthrob magnet?”

I wiped sweat from my forehead, half-laughing, half-ready to scream. “Seriously, what gives?”

He wiped his brow. “Want this superpower?”

He wiggled his eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood. I snorted—couldn’t help it.

Before I could answer, a black Tesla screeched up. A guy in sunglasses rolled down the window, flashing a megawatt smile. “Hey, let’s hang out. I’d love to get to know you.”

He looked like he’d stepped right out of a music video—perfect hair, shiny watch, the works. I rolled my eyes. Maple Heights was relentless.

Alex and I traded a look. I yanked the cap down over his head. “You’re wearing this forever. Don’t take it off.”

I shoved the cap down so far it nearly covered his eyes. There was no way I was letting some rich playboy scoop him up.

The guy laughed, teeth gleaming. “You’ve got my attention, man.”

He revved the engine, sunglasses glinting. “Call me.” He tossed a business card out the window, and it landed at Alex’s feet.

Alex shivered, holding out his arm. “Look, goosebumps! That was creepy.”

He rubbed his arms, genuinely creeped out. I couldn’t blame him one bit.

I smacked his hand down. “If you don’t want to be someone’s trophy, run!”

He didn’t need to be told twice. We grabbed our bikes and took off, hearts pounding, legs burning.

We pedaled for another half hour. I spotted a 7-Eleven and yelled, “Stop!”

My legs were jelly, my throat felt like sandpaper. The neon lights of the 7-Eleven looked like a mirage.

Inside, I bought a pack of masks and shoved them at Alex. “You’re never taking this off in public again. I am done running for my life.”

I grabbed a Gatorade and chugged it, glaring at Alex. “You’re officially in disguise from now on.”

He nodded, pulling on a mask. The cashier, who’d been eyeing him like a celebrity, looked absolutely crushed.

She sighed dramatically, shoulders slumping. I almost felt bad for her—almost.

Alex, meanwhile, was transfixed by the rows of breakfast sandwiches. His stomach let out a growl loud enough to turn heads.

He pressed his face to the glass, eyes wide. "I haven’t eaten all day," he said, voice muffled by the mask.

“I’m starving,” he admitted, rubbing his belly.

His stomach growled again, so loud the cashier started giggling.

I sighed. “Don’t eat this. Let’s get real food. I’ll treat you to pizza.”

I tossed a few snacks on the counter anyway—just in case. My treat.

I made sure our Uber driver was a woman, the pizzeria had an all-female staff, and we got a private booth, just to be safe.

I checked reviews, triple-checked the staff roster, even called ahead. At this point, I was full-on paranoid.

Alex finally peeled off the cap and mask, exhaling in relief. “So, what now?”

He ran a hand through his hair, finally able to relax. His eyes sparkled in the dim light of the booth.

“We’ll talk later.” I scanned the menu. “You brought me here, you’re responsible!”

I shot him a mock glare. “You owe me big time for today’s cardio.”

He protested, looking genuinely apologetic. “How was I supposed to know saying something would make me appear?”

I couldn’t stay mad. The puppy eyes got me every time.

I ordered extra pepperoni out of guilt. He deserved a treat after the day we’d had. Besides, pizza fixes everything.

After all that cardio, we absolutely demolished the pizza—no leftovers in sight.

Cheese strings everywhere, sauce smeared on our chins. We laughed so hard we nearly cried, finally feeling like normal college kids again.

But, of course, our problems weren’t over.

I slammed the table, making the plates rattle. “You ever think maybe you were sent here for a reason?”

Alex looked startled, nearly dropping his slice. I leaned in, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

He set his slice down, suddenly serious. I could feel the shift in the air between us, like something important was about to happen.

“Maybe you’re supposed to do the capturing this time.”

I pointed at him with my fork, daring him to argue.

He panicked. “Me? I’m just an app, why would I—”

He nearly dropped his soda, eyes wide as saucers. I smirked.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re the chick magnet! From now on, I’m the app, you’re the player.”

I folded my arms, feeling a weird surge of power. For once, the tables had finally turned.

He tried to refuse, but I glared. “Either help, or cough up the pizza.”

He gulped, then nodded, looking more nervous than I’d ever seen him.

But before we could chase any boys, a bigger problem landed in our laps.

Alex had no ID, no place to stay. Classic isekai move.

We scrolled through Craigslist and every apartment app we could find, our budget shrinking with every click. I started to miss my old dorm room—at least it didn’t have mystery stains.

We scrounged for an apartment. Our budget was tight. The first place had a blood-red mirror, a flickering hallway light, and an inside temperature that could freeze a polar bear.

The landlord tried to sell it as “vintage charm.” I wasn’t buying it. Not for a second.