Page 26 of The Roommate Game

Not so long ago, I’d worked with some of the finest coaches in the nation at Dartmouth. Now I was getting yelled at by a cranky Russian with white hair, a red nose, and a biting tongue. Boris didn’t give compliments. He grunted or gruffly corrected infractions. The best measure of progress was his silence.

But today, he’d been especially vocal.

I skated to the bench, wiping sweat from my brow.

“Good job,” Eli said, handing over a water bottle.

I thanked him, curbing the inclination to ask how on Earth he thought my near fall and splatter on the ice was a good thing. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I trusted Eli. I thought he was hot, and I wouldn’t have minded getting vertically acquainted with him…sans clothing—but the friendlier he was, the more I second-guessed his motives and his sweet pinky caresses.

According to Celine…and Gus, for that matter, I was wildly guilty of overthinking all things Eli.

This probably wasn’t a great time, but I was exhausted and mentally beat, and if I was going to get rejected, it might as well be now.

“Do you like hot wings and karaoke?” I asked out of the blue.

Eli shifted his gaze from the ice to me. “Um…I don’t like too much spice, and karaoke is embarrassing. Do you?”

“No to both.”

“O-kay.”

I supposed this was my cue to insert a leading question about his spice preferences and karaoke mishaps, but…I didn’t careenough to know. I had one objective here. All I wanted to know was…

“Do you want to go out or not?”

Oh, dear. Zero points for execution, zero points for landing.

I sucked water down like a dry sponge, eyes forward. He could reject me to my cheek if necessary.

“Friday?”

I braved a sideways glance, noting Eli’s amused twinkle and that adorable dimple. Gus had a dimple too. It was hidden under his scruff most of the time, but on mornings when he was freshly shaved, he looked very…attractive and?—

No thinking about Gus. This was Eli.

“Yes. Seven o’clock?” I took another sip.

“Excellent. It’s a date.”

Gus wasn’t home. I’d forgotten that he had a game until Celine reminded me that Smithton was playing Trinity tonight and it was a big deal.

“It’s the playoffs, Rafe. The whole school will be there and that means you too,” my best friend informed me.

I wasn’t particularly interested in attending a hockey game, but I was edgy and anxious. Not a mood conducive to enjoying the solitude of a quiet house. I should have been excited that I’d worked up the nerve to ask Eli out. It felt more like I’d won a point in Gus’s ridiculous roommate game, and that just made me think about Gus in a not-so-terrible light.

Confusing.

Fine, maybe I’d judged him harshly. Gus was funny, big-hearted, and he’d been trying hard to keep his end of the deal. He hadn’t thrown any parties, the house wasn’t a mess,and my food hadn’t disappeared—if anything, there was two of everything in the fridge. He’d been around more too, which had alarmed me at first. However, he’d been perfectly congenial and oddly enough, Gus seemed to want my company.

He’d ask about my day, my off-season training routine, my gym habits, my classes. Nothing overly personal, but it was nice light repartee that went a long way toward mending broken fences.

And we’d been eating more meals together. Rotisserie chickens, salads, and pasta. I teased him for buying junk food, and he teased me for eating kale.

“It’s disgusting, Rafey. No one likes that shit for real. Not even self-respecting rabbits.”

So, I bought kale while Gus bought party-sized bags of potato chips, and we each pretended to be offended by the other’s choices.

Side observation: There was no booze in the house. None.