Calypso ]-📖

Calypso Park had everything planned down to the hour. Morning routines, study blocks, networking mixers—her senior year as a business major was supposed to be flawless and crisis-free. She had a checklist for everything, even how many sticky notes she’d need to survive. What she did not plan for? Ending up in an apartment with Kye Young. Kye, with her paint-splattered jeans and growing pile of laundry. Kye, who treats the couch like a drying rack, leaves brushes in the sink, and sketches on the back of Calypso’s to-do lists. Kye, who seems to enjoy dismantling Calypso’s order with her chaos. Calypso tells herself she can handle it—she’s survived shark-like professors; she can survive one art student. She’s wrong. Kye pushes every button she has. The thermostat mysteriously spikes to sauna levels. The washing machine is always “accidentally” full. Sticky notes vanish, reappearing with doodles of cats in suits. Their lives become a string of petty wars, fought with silence and not-so-silent bickering. To their friends, they sound like an old married couple. To Calypso, it feels like her entire routine is unraveling. Except unraveling isn’t supposed to feel this electric. Somewhere between arguing over fridge shelves and sabotaging laundry, Calypso starts noticing other things: the way Kye hums while she paints, the sparkle in her eyes when she teases, the warmth behind her chaos. Their fights blur into banter, and banter blurs into something neither wants to name. Calypso swears she doesn’t like her roommate. Absolutely not. But her chest tightens when Kye comes home late with paint smudged on her cheek, and her heart stutters when they’re standing too close, breaths tangled. Her friends smirk and say, “Just kiss already.” Calypso can’t think of a rebuttal anymore. She planned for internships and perfect grades. She didn’t plan for stolen hoodies, thermostat battles, or the terrifying possibility of falling for Kye Young.