Chapter 3: Roommates and Rivalries

You could hear a pin drop. Even the director looked surprised, eyebrows raised as he glanced at the crew.

Especially my rival, Riley Monroe, who couldn’t help but sneer: "Savannah, the director asked you to pick a roommate, not throw yourself at him. The whole country’s watching, Savannah. You’re bold, I’ll give you that."

She tossed her hair, smirking like she’d just scored a point. I rolled my eyes, refusing to back down.

I shot back, "I know, but if there really are ghosts in this mansion, survival comes first."

I tried to keep my tone light, but the fear in my voice was real. I wasn’t about to let pride get me killed.

And just like that, the live chat roasted me again.

[Savannah Brooks, do you have any shame?]

[You’re a woman, maybe you don’t care about your reputation, but our idol does.]

[Our idol is so handsome—what if Savannah gets handsy?]

Come on, fans. Don’t be ridiculous.

I wanted to laugh. If only they knew how little I cared about romance right now. I just wanted to survive the night.

Ruining his innocence? Please. Your idol is handsome, but even if I liked him, I wouldn’t make a move in a haunted house.

There are limits, even for me. Ghosts trump crushes every time.

Seriously, relax.

Take a deep breath, fangirls. I’m not your competition.

Julian thought for a moment and asked, "Are you sure?"

His voice was gentle, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He was enjoying this, just a little.

"Yes, I’m sure." I nodded so hard I probably looked like a bobblehead. "I swear I won’t cause you any trouble tonight."

I tried to sound earnest, hoping he’d see how serious I was. My heart thudded in my chest, waiting for his answer.

And, of course, the comments wailed:

[Don’t trust her, bro! The prettier they are, the less you can trust them!]

Fine, I’ll take that as a compliment on my looks.

I grinned, trying to hide my nerves. If being pretty was my biggest crime, I’d take it.

Julian ignored the comments, took my hand, and said, "I know you’re afraid of ghosts. Fine, I’ll pick you."

He squeezed my hand, his touch reassuring. For the first time all night, I felt a flicker of hope.

He’s really something. Meanwhile, I’m dying here.

I tried not to melt on the spot. Maybe I’d survive the night after all.

Honestly, Julian, I’m your fan now.

I made a mental note to buy all his merch. The man was a saint.

Seeing us succeed, the director announced, "Congratulations to Julian Whitaker and Savannah Brooks for pairing up as roommates."

He sounded genuinely pleased, probably already imagining the ratings spike. The crew scribbled notes, cameras zooming in for reaction shots.

Riley Monroe rolled her eyes and said sourly, "Some people just don’t care about shame."

She muttered it under her breath, but loud enough for the mics to pick up. I pretended not to hear.

She then turned to Autumn Price, "Autumn, want to pair up?"

Her tone was casual, but I could hear the frustration. No one wanted to be left out.

Autumn decisively grabbed Marcus Reed’s hand and smiled at Riley: "Sorry, Riley, I’ve got some acting stuff to discuss with Marcus, so I’ll pick him."

She was smooth, her smile polite but firm. Marcus looked pleasantly surprised, but quickly recovered his composure.

Marcus shook her hand, smiling like a true gentleman. "Autumn, your romantic acting is superb. Looking forward to tonight."

He gave her a small bow, always the gentleman. The rest of us tried not to laugh.

Riley’s expression soured. Now she was stuck with Eric Choi.

She shot Eric a look, and he shrugged, grinning like he’d won a consolation prize. The tension eased, just a little.

More importantly, Autumn also picked a male roommate, which helped me out.

I silently thanked her. With the spotlight off me, I could breathe again.

The comments section was full of shipping rumors:

[What’s going on with Autumn and Marcus? Are they dating?]

[If they’re careful, they’re a real couple. If they’re open, they’re just colleagues. King and queen working together—I bet they’re just colleagues.]

[They have a movie coming out. This must be pre-release couple marketing.]

[I don’t care, I’m shipping them. Please have a good talk tonight.]

Fans have no idea what’s really going on behind the scenes.

But I know the truth—Autumn and Marcus have been secretly married for ten years, with a kid old enough to run errands.

They were pros at keeping secrets. I’d seen them sneak off set for quick phone calls with their kid. Hollywood’s best-kept secret.

Tonight, they might even discuss having a second child.

I smiled, picturing them whispering in the dark, planning their future while everyone else imagined drama.

After picking roommates, we drew lots for rooms.

The director made a show of it, rattling the box and holding out slips of paper. The tension was thick as we each reached in.

Autumn and Marcus got the first-floor guest room.

A cozy, sunken space with creaky floorboards and faded wallpaper. Not exactly five-star, but at least it was close to the exit.

Julian and I got the second-floor master suite.

The biggest room in the house, with a king-sized bed and a balcony overlooking the pool. I tried not to think about what—or who—might be lurking outside.

Riley and Eric got the third-floor bedroom.

Tucked under the eaves, with slanted ceilings and a single window. Riley looked less than thrilled, but Eric seemed excited for the adventure.

As soon as the rooms were picked, all the house lights went out.

The sudden darkness was absolute, swallowing the house whole. I heard someone gasp, and my own heart leapt into my throat.

I jumped into Julian’s arms. Across the room, Autumn did the same with Marcus.

It was pure instinct. I clung to Julian, feeling his steady heartbeat under my cheek. Across the room, Autumn and Marcus huddled together, whispering.

Riley was even more dramatic, hanging onto Eric.

She shrieked, nearly pulling him off his feet. Eric laughed, but his eyes darted around nervously.

The director said in a spooky voice, "From now on, there will be no more lights in the house. Each group gets only one candle for light."

He sounded like he was auditioning for a haunted house gig. The crew handed out candles, the flames flickering in the gloom.

The director really knows how to set the mood. We were all about to jump out of our skin.

I could feel my pulse in my ears, every nerve on edge. The house seemed to breathe around us, settling into its own rhythm.

Julian took the candle, held my hand, and led me upstairs.

His grip was warm, steady. The stairs creaked under our feet, the shadows deepening with every step. I tried not to look over my shoulder.

The master suite on the second floor reeked of something metallic—like blood. Julian and I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling in a daze.

The scent was metallic, thick. I tried to breathe through my mouth, but it didn’t help. The silence was oppressive, broken only by our shallow breaths.

My voice trembled: "Julian, do you think the faceless ghost will come tonight?"

I tried to keep my tone light, but the fear crept in. My hands twisted the sheets, knuckles white.

"Most likely." Julian was calm. He closed his eyes. "Get some rest. She’ll come when the candle goes out."

His words sent a chill down my spine. I stared at the candle, willing it to burn forever.

Help. How was I supposed to sleep now?

Every creak, every whisper of wind made me jump. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for morning.

But Julian was already breathing steadily.

He was out like a light, his face relaxed. I envied his calm, wishing I could borrow some of it.

I held out for an hour. A cold wind blew in from the balcony, snuffing out the candle on the nightstand.

The darkness was absolute, pressing in on all sides. My heart pounded as I heard the faint sound of water dripping outside.

I opened my eyes to see the faceless ghost in the red swimsuit climbing in through the window.