I roll my eyes, deciding not to push. I have bigger fish to fry and a limited window of their attention before someone storms off or starts another fight.
"Anyway." I clear my throat, drawing their focus back to me. "Rule number one."
Three pairs of eyes focus on my face. It is mildly terrifying. Like being stared down by a pack of wolves deciding whether you are worth the effort of hunting.
You are not prey. You are not prey. You are a bold Omega who does not back down from intimidating Alphas. You kicked ass today. You can do this.
"My room is off limits." I hold up one finger for emphasis. "Do not go trying to sneak in there. Do not try to barge in without knocking. Do not attempt to enter for any reason unless I explicitly invite you, which, spoiler alert, I will not. My space is my space. Respect it or face consequences."
Rafe snorts, the sound rich with mockery.
"No one wants to go into your closet of a room." His voice is dismissive, cutting. "None of us could even lay down in that tiny space without our feet sticking out the door. Pretty sure if I tried to stretch out, I would end up in the hallway."
I pout before I can stop myself, feeling the sting of the comment even though I know he is not entirely wrong. The room is small. Embarrassingly small. Barely bigger than the walk-in closet in my parents' house that I used to hide in when things got too overwhelming.
But it is yours. It is your space. Your sanctuary. And no one else gets to make you feel bad about that. Not him. Not anyone.
I push past the hurt without acknowledging it, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
"Rule number two." I hold up a second finger. "I take school seriously. I am here to learn, to figure out my life, to work toward whatever comes next. And I do not need distractions or setbacks or anything that reminds me of the worst years of my childhood."
I pause, letting my gaze sweep across all three of them.
"If you want to be assholes, do it outside of class. I do not want to be bullied like you guys..." I trail off, my voice catching on the memories.
Get it together. Do not let them see you falter. You are not that scared little girl anymore.
I point directly at Rafe, then at Cal.
"Like you two enjoyed doing to me when we were kids."
The words hang in the air like a verdict. Cal winces visibly, his earlier amusement evaporating into something that looks like genuine shame. Even Rafe has the decency to look slightly uncomfortable, though he masks it quickly with that perpetual scowl he wears like armor.
"It was not fun," I continue, my voice steadier now. Harder. Forged in the fires of years of therapy and self-reflection. "It was not nice. It was not harmless pranks or childhood roughhousing that everyone would laugh about later. It was your entertainment, but it certainly was not mine."
I take a breath, pushing through the tightness in my chest.
"I cried in bathroom stalls because of the things you said. I dreaded going to school every single morning because of you. I still have nightmares about that fucking chant."
Nerdy MaeBell, go to hell.
Nerdy MaeBell, go to hell.
Nerdy MaeBell, go to hell.
I blink hard, pushing the memory away before it can drag me under.
"So no bullying. Not in class. Not in this dorm. Not anywhere. Are we clear?"
Cal nods immediately, his expression shifting into something genuinely remorseful.
"Crystal clear," he says quietly. "I am sorry, MaeMae. For all of it. I know that does not fix anything, but I need you to know that I am not that kid anymore. I have changed. Or at least I am trying to."
I study him for a moment, searching for signs of insincerity. Finding none.
Maybe he is telling the truth. Maybe people can change. Maybe the boy who called you names grew into a man who regrets it.
Or maybe he is just really good at lying. Time will tell.
