For as long as Thammasat University could remember, there had been an unspoken war raging on campus.

On one side: Emmy Thipanan.

Top of the class, always.

Cold, calculating, and impossible to beat.

Perfect scores, perfect reputation, perfect everything.

On the other: Bonnie Ratcha.

Chaotic, unpredictable, and way too smart for her own good.

Never studies but somehow still matches Emmy’s scores.

A walking scandal waiting to happen.

They had been rivals since the first day of university, and their battles were legendary:

✔ First year: Tied for highest GPA. Emmy demanded a recount. Bonnie smirked and told her, “Guess you’re not as perfect as you thought.”

✔ Second year: Debate club finals. They annihilated the competition and then nearly murdered each other over a single point.

✔ Last semester: University trivia competition. Tie-breaker question. Bonnie buzzed in first—just to answer, “I’d rather see Emmy lose.” (They both lost.)

Every student knew: You were either Team Emmy or Team Bonnie. There was no in-between.

So when Emmy saw her name next to Bonnie’s on the dorm assignment list, she knew one thing:

This was going to be hell.

---

Emmy stormed into the housing office like a woman on a mission.

“There has to be a mistake,” she said, voice sharp but controlled. “I requested a single room.”

Behind her, Bonnie Ratcha strolled in—grinning like this was the best news of her life.

The dorm coordinator barely glanced up from her computer. “No mistakes. We had to make adjustments due to high occupancy.”

Emmy’s hands curled into fists. “I will pay extra. I will move to another building. I will—”

“No exceptions,” the coordinator cut in.

Bonnie leaned against the counter, amused. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, babe.”

Emmy’s eye twitched.

This semester was already ruined.

When Emmy Thipanan arrived at her new dorm, she had exactly three hopes:

Bonnie wouldn’t be there yet.

Bonnie wouldn’t have touched anything.

Bonnie wouldn’t exist.

Hope #1? Crushed the moment she opened the door.

Bonnie Ratcha was already inside, sprawled across the bed, scrolling through her phone like she owned the place.

Hope #2? Also dead.

Bonnie’s suitcase was half-unpacked, her clothes scattered on the chair, her books thrown haphazardly on the desk that was supposed to be Emmy’s. There was even an open bag of chips on the floor.

Hope #3? …A girl could dream.

Bonnie looked up, grinning. “Welcome home, roomie.”

Emmy inhaled sharply. “You are unbelievable.”

Bonnie stretched lazily. “Flattered.”

---

Emmy set her luggage down with force and turned to Bonnie. “Ground rules.”

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. “Oh? We’re doing this already?”

“Yes.” Emmy’s expression was pure steel. “If we’re going to survive this, we need rules.”

Bonnie sighed, sitting up. “Fine. Hit me.”

Emmy held up a finger. “Rule #1: Stay on your side.”

Bonnie glanced around. “What side?”

Emmy pointed. “That half of the room is yours. You do not cross to mine.”

Bonnie smirked. “So if I step over here…” She shifted slightly, letting one foot land on Emmy’s side.

Emmy glared.

Bonnie grinned wider. “What happens? Do I get electrocuted?”

Emmy crossed her arms. “I’ll make your life miserable.”

Bonnie chuckled. “Babe, you can try.”

Emmy’s eye twitched. “Rule #2: No loud music after 10 PM.”

Bonnie groaned. “You’re no fun.”

“And Rule #3—” Emmy’s gaze sharpened. “Do not touch my things.”

Bonnie put a hand over her chest, mock-offended. “Would I ever?”

“Yes,” Emmy deadpanned.

Bonnie laughed, then reached for a hoodie hanging off the chair. “Wait, isn’t this mine?”

Emmy’s blood pressure skyrocketed. “That is mine.”

Bonnie inspected it. “Are you sure?”

“Bonnie.”

Bonnie tossed it back, grinning. “Relax, Em. You’re gonna get wrinkles.”

Emmy counted to ten in her head.

She turned toward the other disaster in the room—the bed.

“Where’s my bed?” Emmy asked, voice dangerously calm.

Bonnie blinked innocently. “What do you mean? It’s right there.”

“That’s one bed.”

Bonnie smiled. “Congrats. You can count.”

Emmy took a slow, deep breath. “Are you telling me they only gave us one bed?”

Bonnie shrugged. “Looks that way.”

Emmy stared at the bed. Then at Bonnie. Then back at the bed.

“I’m sleeping on the floor,” she decided.

Bonnie gasped dramatically. “You’d rather sleep on the floor than next to me?”

“Correct.”

Bonnie pouted. “You’re missing out. I’m a great cuddler.”

Emmy ignored her and grabbed a pillow, mentally preparing for the worst semester of her life.

The first night in Room 402B was nothing short of a war zone.

Emmy wrapped herself tightly in a blanket on the floor, her back turned to Bonnie, who was comfortably spread out on the only bed.

Everything was silent… for exactly five minutes.

Then the air conditioner roared to life.

Emmy immediately shivered.

She sat up sharply. “Did you just turn the AC to 16 degrees?”

Bonnie, who was buried under a thick comforter, mumbled, “Yep.”

Emmy glared. “It’s freezing.”

Bonnie yawned. “Not my problem.”

Emmy stood, grabbed the remote, and turned it up to 24.

Bonnie opened one eye. “Oh? It’s like that?”

She rolled over, snatched the remote, and set it back to 16.

Emmy snatched it again.

Bonnie grabbed it back.

Emmy yanked it away.

Bonnie lunged.

And just like that, they were wrestling over the remote at 1 AM.

Bonnie ended up half on top of Emmy, her hair a mess, both of them breathing hard from the struggle.

A tense pause. Too close. Too warm. Too much.

Emmy, voice deadpan: “Get off me.”

Bonnie grinned. “You could say please.”

Emmy shoved her off the bed.

Bonnie yelped. “You’re cruel.”

Emmy tossed the remote onto her desk. “And now, neither of us get AC.”

Bonnie groaned into her pillow.

The next morning, Emmy woke up feeling colder than usual.

She groggily sat up, rubbing her eyes—only to see Bonnie standing in front of the mirror… wearing her hoodie.

Emmy’s brain took a second to process. Then—

"Ratcha."

Bonnie turned, grinning. “Morning, babe.”

Emmy’s eye twitched. “Did you—” She pointed at Bonnie’s outfit. “That’s mine.”

Bonnie looked down, mock-surprised. “Oh? I thought this was mine.”

“It’s three sizes too big for you.”

Bonnie shrugged. “It’s comfy.”

Emmy stood up. “Take it off.”

Bonnie smirked. “You want me to strip?”

Emmy threw a pillow at her.

Bonnie dodged, laughing.

Emmy inhaled deeply. “We need more rules.”

Bonnie grinned. “Sure. Rule #1: I get to steal your hoodies.”

Emmy groaned.

This was going to be a long semester.

---

By day three, Emmy realized something worse than their constant fights.

Bonnie never cooked.

Not in a lazy way. In a “I will eat instant ramen for six months and call it a diet” way.

That morning, Emmy sat at the tiny dorm table, eating an actual meal, when she noticed Bonnie sneaking glances at her food.

She sighed. “Have you eaten?”

Bonnie froze mid-scroll on her phone. “Huh?”

Emmy gestured at Bonnie’s completely empty side of the table. “Breakfast. Have you had any?”

Bonnie scratched her head. “I was… gonna grab something later.”

Emmy stared at her.

Bonnie stared back.

Then—without a word—Emmy slid her plate forward.

Bonnie blinked. “Wait, you’re actually feeding me?”

Emmy rolled her eyes. “Just eat.”

Bonnie hesitated… then took a bite.

Silence.

Then, in a quiet voice, she mumbled, “Thanks, Thipanan.”

Emmy pretended not to hear it.

Scene 2: "Do We Hate Each Other… Or Nah?"

That night, Emmy sat at her desk, actually trying to study, while Bonnie lay on her bed, tossing a ball in the air.

The silence between them was different.

Less charged. Less sharp.

Finally, Bonnie spoke.

“So.” She caught the ball, turning toward Emmy. “Do we still hate each other?”

Emmy paused. “What?”

Bonnie grinned. “We’ve been roomies for a few days now. Haven’t killed each other yet. Feels kinda like progress.”

Emmy narrowed her eyes. “Give it a week.”

Bonnie smirked. “I’ll take that bet.”

Emmy turned back to her book, trying not to smile.

Maybe—just maybe—this wouldn’t be the worst thing ever.

Emmy should have known better.

The moment Bonnie barged into their dorm, grinning like she had a plan, Emmy’s instincts screamed “Danger.”

“Thipanan,” Bonnie drawled, flopping onto Emmy’s bed.

Emmy barely looked up from her book. “Get off my bed.”

Bonnie ignored her. “There’s a party at P’Nara’s place tonight.”

“No.”

Bonnie pouted. “I didn’t even finish my sentence.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Bonnie rolled onto her stomach. “Come on, Em. You’ve been acting like a grandma all week. Live a little.”

“I live just fine.”

Bonnie huffed. “Okay, fine. Be boring.” She sat up, smirking. “But I should warn you… people are already talking about us.”

Emmy finally looked up. “What?”

Bonnie twirled a strand of her hair, looking too entertained. “You and me. Roommates. Rivals. The tension. People think something’s going on.”

Emmy’s eye twitched. “What idiot started that rumor?”

Bonnie grinned. “No idea. But the only way to prove them wrong is to show up, flirt with other people, and move on with our lives.”

Emmy’s jaw clenched. She hated that Bonnie could turn anything into a challenge.

And worse? Emmy hated losing.

“…Fine.”

Bonnie beamed. “That’s my girl.”

---

The party was louder than Emmy expected.

Music blasted, neon lights flickered, and a group of students sat in a circle, laughing over an intense game of truth or dare.

Bonnie nudged Emmy. “Come on. We’re playing.”

Emmy sighed. “I hate you.”

Bonnie smirked. “No, you don’t.”

They sat down, and before Emmy could even prepare, the bottle was already spinning.

It landed on Bonnie.

The girl across from her grinned. “Truth or dare?”

Bonnie barely hesitated. “Dare.”

The girl smirked. “Kiss someone in this circle.”

Emmy froze.

Bonnie’s lips curled into a slow smile. A dangerous smile.

She turned to Emmy.

Emmy’s heart stopped.

Bonnie leaned in, her voice low and teasing. “What do you say, Thipanan? Wanna give them something to talk about?”

Emmy glared. “Absolutely not.”

Bonnie pouted. “No fun.”

Instead, she turned and pecked another girl’s cheek, making the group cheer.

Emmy rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t ignore the weird feeling twisting in her chest.

Annoyance. That’s all it was. Just annoyance.

…Right?

---

An hour later, Emmy was leaning against the balcony, trying to process the night.

Bonnie appeared beside her, drink in hand. “Having fun yet?”

Emmy scoffed. “If you mean, ‘Am I counting down the minutes until I can go home?’ then yes.”

Bonnie chuckled. “You’re so dramatic.”

Emmy turned to face her. “Why did you have to pick dare?”

Bonnie shrugged. “More fun that way.”

Emmy’s grip on her glass tightened. “Right. Fun.”

Bonnie tilted her head. “Why? Were you jealous?”

Emmy snorted. “Of you? Never.”

Bonnie grinned. “You sure? ‘Cause you’ve been glaring ever since that dare.”

Emmy rolled her eyes. “You are unbelievable.”

Bonnie stepped closer, her voice soft but teasing. “I’ll make it up to you. Wanna pick a dare for me?”

Emmy’s stomach flipped.

She hated how Bonnie played these games. Hated how her heart reacted.

But most of all?

She hated that she didn’t want to walk away.