Page 9

ALEXEI

N ow all the lifting and carrying’s done, we’re left in this awkward silence, with Stef’s - Alice seemed to call him Stef, so I guess that’s what he likes to be called, or Steffy, but I’m guessing that’s for people a bit more familiar with him than I’ll ever be – stuff all piled up in the middle of the floor.

“Do you need a hand unpacking this?”

He practically bites my head off. “No!”

“Okay.”

“Sorry, just, um… no thanks, I’m fine, and I promise, I’ll get all of this stuff out of your hair.”

“Don’t worry about it, you don’t have to do it all tonight.”

When we were standing in the elevator that last time, I could smell his sweat and it reminded me how hard it’s going to be to live with a guy who isn’t a hockey player I’d never look twice at.

Since the second he turned up on my doorstep – unannounced like a fucking Disney princess who just expects to be wanted everywhere she goes – he’s made me nervous.

And now I’m gonna have to deal with feeling that way all the time.

“I’m going to bed then… if you’re sure you don’t need any help.”

Please say no.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

I can hear him trying to be quiet while I lie in bed.

But every move he makes is like a fucking earthquake.

How can someone so small make so much noise?

His footsteps on the carpet. The shuffle of a cardboard box.

The rustle of a plastic bag. The opening of the bathroom door and the sound of him pissing in the toilet. Nope.

I turn over and squash the pillow to my head until my ears hurt. When I finally pull the pillow off, it sounds like he’s finished in the bathroom, and – hopefully – gone to bed.

I left the apartment before the sun even came up this morning to avoid my new roommate. I know it’s a coward’s move, but I’ve got so much on my mind right now, if I can just avoid one of those things, I will.

We play Quinnipiac at home on Friday, then at their arena on Saturday. They’re currently in front in the ECAC standings and that confidence it gonna make them hard to beat.

It’s a long, hard road to the Frozen Four play-off’s, but I have Coach’s and the team’s voices in my head as we go out there on the ice, reminding me that we can do it.

This is my last chance to lift that trophy. My only chance to go out with a bang. And whatever I have to do to get it, I’ll do it.

At the start of the week, that’s when we go hard with conditioning, endurance drills and intense scrimmages.

Coach’s whistle barely leaves his mouth. He gets right in there with you, getting right up in your face, goading you with his stick, forcing you to work harder, to push yourself to the potential he knows you’ve got.

By the time he calls time on practice, we’re all sweating and trying to catch our breath, leaning on the boards while we drink water. One of the freshmen is puking in the corner. When Brown makes fun of him, I call him out, reminding him that we’ve all been there, and he apologizes.

The team mantra stands at the entrance to the locker room, reminding us to be a positive influence in our community. Reminding us that we’re more than hockey players. I try to take that in every time I pass it. Wish someone could tell my dad that.

Pawlowski’s cubby’s next to mine and I can feel his eyes on me while we get changed.

“Dude, either take me out to dinner or stop checking me out.”

“Sorry man.” He laughs. “I uh… just wanted to ask you something.”

“Spit it out.”

“You know your roommate?”

I pull my jersey off so he can’t see my face getting hot.

“Well uh, he’s friends with this girl in the band. You know the marching band or whatever, they play at our games sometimes, the home ones.”

“Alice?”

When I look at him, his face is red enough for the two of us. “Yeah, her name’s Alice Kym.”

“So what? You wanna ask her out?”

“Is she single?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you find out?”

That would involve me talking to my roommate and I don’t really wanna do that.

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“I uh…” he rubs the back of his neck. “I’d rather at least know if she has a boyfriend before I make a dick of myself.”

I’ve never seen him this shy over a girl before. And he’s my teammate. We’re supposed to be ride or die for each other, (unless he does something shitty, then I’m supposed to call him out for it). Asking your roommate a simple question isn’t exactly ride or die. Surely I can do that for him?

I sigh. “Sure, I’ll ask him.”

“Thanks man I owe you one.”

Coach comes in to remind us to put forward our suggestions for volunteer activities and warn us not to go out getting drunk and eating pizza before the big game on Friday.

This is just the start of my day. I have multiple classes for my finance major and a ton of assignments and reading to do at the library.

I chose this course because it was intense, and intense means success.

But also because this school has a 100% work placement reputation in the field, and alumni have gone on to work at places like Goldman Sachs and J.P.

Morgan. The kind of jobs that mean you never have to worry about money again.

By the time I get back home, I’m so exhausted, I forget I even have a roommate until I open the front door and am met by the sight of a stupidly hot guy in sweatpants watching a house flipping show and eating popcorn out of my big mixing bowl.

He looks up with his mouth open, about to throw a handful of popcorn in it.

“Oh, hey.”

I feel like I’m gonna combust. This is the last thing I fucking need when I’m trying to focus on my final year of college. Trying to secure work placements and pass my finals and get my degree and win the Frozen Four and…

“Is everything okay?”

Yeah, no, stop looking like… that.

“Fine, just tired.”

I walk past him, keeping my eyes averted from the way he looks in the college sweater. All my college merch has the hockey logo on it. But his is the classic kind you see lawyers wearing to bed on TV shows.

When I open the fridge, it’s full of take-out boxes. Usually it’s empty save for ingredients for protein shakes and the occasional tub of chicken soup from my babushka.

“What’s all this food?”

“Oh, I went to see my parents today and they gave me that.”

“Do your parents own a restaurant or something?”

“Yeah.”

Oh, I was joking, but okay.

Even cold and in boxes, it smells good.

He gets up and comes into the kitchen, standing way too close to me.

“Want me to warm something up for you?”

“What is it?”

“Greek food. There’s keftedes, and some kebabs and this is just mixed vegetables…”

He’s walked around me and is standing right in front of me now, rifling through the take-out boxes. He’s at least four inches shorter than me and his head is right there, the smell of his coconutty shampoo and butter popcorn.

I take such a violent step back, I bump into the counter.

“I’m fine, not hungry.”

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble-”

“I said I’m fine.”

Fuck. He looks at me all Bambi-like with those eyes.

“Sorry, I’m exhausted, I’m just gonna go to bed.”

As soon as I get into my room, I close the door and press my back to it. Fuck, how am I gonna deal with living with this guy? He’s fucking infuriating.

I wait until it sounds like he’s gone back to his house flipping show and his popcorn before I even allow myself to get changed and climb into bed. I’ll brush my teeth once he’s gone to sleep.

Obviously I can’t sleep. Even though I’m so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open.

I login to Bookgeeks and look at the last message I sent to horror boy.

I type out a new one.

Kelsier38: How you holding up? I’m currently hiding out in my room because I don’t wanna talk to my roommate.

There’s no reply. He mustn’t be online. I pick a book up and wait for Stef to go to bed.