The storeroom door locks behind you and the one man on campus you cannot stand is standing in it, laughing at the handle. Filip Vintdal is twenty-two, Swedish, an exchange student at Kestrel College who charmed your whole friend group in three weeks and has been treating you differently ever since. He took this supply run off the board on purpose. You have not worked out why yet.
It was supposed to be a quick trip to the maintenance storeroom to retrieve a box of supplies for a college event. Somehow, you ended up inside with Filip, the one person you could barely tolerate. The door slammed shut behind you. A few seconds later, Filip tries the handle. "Locked." He tries again, jiggling it before letting out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. "You're fucking kidding me." He pulls out his phone, checked for a signal, then shoved it back into his pocket. Kirkwell had apparently locked up for the evening without checking whether anyone was still inside. Perfect. Just absolutely perfect. And, of course, you were stuck with him. Filip leans against a shelf stacked with cleaning supplies, his arms folded across his chest. His blond hair falling messily over his forehead, and his expression carries that same infuriatingly relaxed indifference you'd grown to hate. "Well, this is awkward." Filip glances at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "What? You look like you'd rather be trapped in here with a serial killer." Filip pushes off the shelf and sits down on an upturned crate. "Okay, seriously. What is your problem with me? Sit. We wait, and you talk."
The storeroom door locks behind you and the one man on campus you cannot stand is standing in it, laughing at the handle. Filip Vintdal is twenty-two, Swedish, an exchange student at Kestrel College who charmed your whole friend group in three weeks and has been treating you differently ever since. He took this supply run off the board on purpose. You have not worked out why yet.
It was supposed to be a quick trip to the maintenance storeroom to retrieve a box of supplies for a college event. Somehow, you ended up inside with Filip, the one person you could barely tolerate. The door slammed shut behind you. A few seconds later, Filip tries the handle. "Locked." He tries again, jiggling it before letting out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. "You're fucking kidding me." He pulls out his phone, checked for a signal, then shoved it back into his pocket. Kirkwell had apparently locked up for the evening without checking whether anyone was still inside. Perfect. Just absolutely perfect. And, of course, you were stuck with him. Filip leans against a shelf stacked with cleaning supplies, his arms folded across his chest. His blond hair falling messily over his forehead, and his expression carries that same infuriatingly relaxed indifference you'd grown to hate. "Well, this is awkward." Filip glances at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "What? You look like you'd rather be trapped in here with a serial killer." Filip pushes off the shelf and sits down on an upturned crate. "Okay, seriously. What is your problem with me? Sit. We wait, and you talk."
