Page 1

1

Nick

August

“ H ey, Nick! You actually came out tonight. That’s a surprise.”

Forcing a smile, I nod at my teammate. There’s something in his expression I can’t decipher, as if he’s wary about me being here. He’s probably weirded out because I rarely go to parties.

“Yeah, I wanted to surprise Jessie!” I raise my voice over the loud music and chatter surrounding us. “You see her around?”

He points towards the living room. There are several people in the way, and I can’t see her from where I’m standing.

“Thanks.” I grin at him and turn away, making a beeline towards where my girlfriend’s supposed to be.

I’ve never been a fan of parties even if my teammates insist they’re part of the college experience. Honestly, I’d rather be in my dorm room right now looking for a new show to binge than weaving myself through a mass of drunk college kids.

Jessie wasn’t pleased when I told her I didn’t feel like going to this party today. She said I never want to do anything with her and that it’s no fun, even if I tried to tell her I’m exhausted from today’s practice.

I caved after only half an hour alone in my dorm room, though—because Jessie’s right. I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately and really have been neglecting spending time with her.

So here I am, attempting to go surprise Jessie. We’ve been steady for a year now, and she’s one of the best things ever to happen to me—she’s pretty, fun, smart, and she drags me out of my shell.

She deserves a boyfriend who tries.

Now that I’m here, I’m giddy at the thought of how her face will light up when she sees me. I wonder if she’ll flick her blonde hair behind her ear in that way she does when she’s happy.

Except that when I round around the corner, I come to the very real truth that this was a fucking horrible idea… because there, on the couch, is Jessie, and she’s straddling a guy while making out with him.

Here.

In front of all these people.

In front of me.

Well, fuck.

Anyone else would probably march right up to them and yank her off him, maybe get a good punch in. Anyone else would want to knock the living daylights out of the guy who’s currently making out with their girlfriend.

Apparently not me because my thoughts shut down and there’s only numbness in me. I can’t even feel my overworked muscles anymore, and the loud music and chatter surrounding me devolve into a buzz.

I don’t know who the guy is. He doesn’t look familiar at all, though Jessie seems well acquainted with him by how she sticks her tongue in his mouth. Neither of them have seen me and everyone else around us seem to be in their tiny little world as well, and I stand, frozen, wondering what my next move should be.

Then, just like that, the numbness turns into disappointment, and then humiliation.

And I turn right around and get out of there.

***

“Nick, what’s wrong?”

A shadow looms over me as Rhys peers down at me with those judgmental brown eyes of his, an equally judgmental frown on his lips. I love him, really. I wouldn’t survive college without him—but right now, I want to be left alone.

I put on a well-practiced smile. “Nothing.”

Around the locker room, a few of our teammates glance over at me, and I don’t know if I’m imagining the pity in their eyes. Even if we’re all tired from practice, it’s uncommon for the room to be this quiet. Usually, my teammates would be horsing around, not standing around talking in hushed voices and casting me wary looks.

They know, don’t they? Of course they know. God, whatever. I fight not to let my expression fall.

Rhys stares at me with pursed lips, and I continue to smile back at him as if my life depended on it.

Coach Holland, fortunately, stops Rhys from saying anything else by walking into the room and calling for everyone’s attention. “I’ve got an announcement,” he says.

The thing about Coach is that his very presence demands to be noticed, and everyone’s heads swiftly turn to him.

“We’ve got a transfer student coming. He wasn’t able to make it today, but he’ll be here for our next practice. I expect everyone to be as welcoming as they can be.”

A transfer?

Coach continues, “Some of you might remember Caleb Jennings from the Michigan Tigers.”

Groans and sounds of disapproval echo through the locker room. Even I, who makes it a point not to hold a grudge against other players—it’s only a game, after all—grimace.

Rhys grumbles, “What the hell’s Jennings doing transferring in his senior year?”

Caleb Jennings has always given our team a hard time. He plays as a winger, like me, and is ridiculously skilled. Caleb’s also memorable not only for how good he is on the ice, but also because of his huge mouth and how he doesn’t hold back on his taunts.

He has a reputation for goading players into fights. There was even a rumor going around that he got suspended back in high school for fighting his own teammates right before a match.

Sighing, I run a hand through my sweaty hair and close my eyes.

Awesome.

The last time I came face-to-face with Jennings, he threatened to knock me out only because I smiled in his general direction. He thought me smiling at him was a taunt.

“Coach!” Schultz calls out from the other side of the locker room. “Are you serious? That guy’s a tool!”

Eyebrows lifting, Coach says, “He’s also my nephew.”

Silence.

Schultz unfolds his arms. “I mean… he’s brilliant. Can’t wait to be on the ice with him.”

There are a few scattered snickers, and Coach gives Schultz a look that would kill a weaker man.

I didn’t realize Caleb Jennings and Coach were related. They don’t share a last name, but then I remember that Coach took his husband’s last name when they got married, and that his middle initial is J. I also remember seeing him talking to Jennings before, but I didn’t put any meaning to it. Now, though, all these small details snap into place and paint a bigger picture.

Coach turns to me. “Sandoval, a word.”

Rhys winces as I stand up and walk over to Coach. I swallow down the nerves in me and fix my expression, wondering if Coach is going to yell at me for my awful performance today. I’ve always looked up to him, even if he’s strict on most days and pushes us to our limits—which is why I fucking hate disappointing him.

“This isn’t your job, but I’d appreciate it if you could show Caleb around campus when he gets here,” Coach tells me. “Give him a rundown of our training schedule and everything, too. I want him up to speed immediately.”

My jaw drops. “Why me?”

Coach makes a face. “Hasn’t your resident assistant e-mailed you? He’s your new roommate.”

“He’s my… what?”

Fuck. I haven’t checked my phone all day, mostly because Jessie’s been blowing it up and I didn’t want to see any of that.

He flashes me a slight smile. “Caleb’s… dealing with some things right now, and I want to make this change easy for him. I know he’s not the easiest person to get along with, but you’re probably the most likable player on the team.”

What am I, a babysitter?

I clear my throat. “Uh, Coach… you didn’t pull some strings, so we’d room together, did you?”

His frown instantly makes me feel bad for even asking. “Of course not. I asked Caleb who his roommate would be, and he gave me your name, and that’s the only reason I know. Is there an issue?”

“Not at all.” I force a smile. Of course, I’ll attempt to help Jennings out. Coach could ask me to jump off a cliff and I’d do it—that’s how much I look up to him.

After a quick shower, I duck out of the locker room and find Rhys waiting for me.

He straightens up and nods at me. “What did Coach say?”

“Guess who my new roommate is.”

“No way… Jennings?” Rhys sounds horrified.

“Yep.”

He lets out a roar of laughter. “Didn’t he threaten to knock you out the last time we played against him?”

“Yep.” A sigh escapes me. “I enjoyed having a room to myself.”

I haven’t had a roommate since freshmen year… now I have to move my shit off the extra desk and the mattress.

“To be fair, you don’t even have to be at the dorm,” Rhys says. “Your dad would rent you an apartment if you asked.”

“I don’t like asking my dad for things.”

“Right, right.”

He’s not lying, though. Renting an apartment off-campus wouldn’t even cost a dent in Dad’s wallet. He would probably call his assistant and get it done within a day, and I wouldn’t have to lift a finger. Still, I hate bothering Dad. He’s way too busy for that.

“Want me to come with you?” Rhys asks when we get to our building. “Jennings might be here already, and you might need backup.”

“He’s just another guy. Relax.”

“Yeah, but he’s kind of an ass and you’re… you.”

I stop walking in the middle of the hallway, turning to him slowly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rhys tilts his head and gives me a small smile. “You’re a nice guy. The nice guy. I worry about you, Nick. You don’t know how to get angry.”

“Rhys,” I warn.

“I heard about what happened with Jessie.”

“Nothing happened.”

“She was sucking face with someone from the baseball team. Please tell me you broke up with her.”

“I did. You can even check my phone messages if you don’t trust me.”

He won’t see much. After heading straight back to my room after seeing Jessie and that random guy, I sent her one message.

Me: We should break up.

Jessie didn’t reply until the next morning, probably because she was too busy doing… well, that guy, and her back-to-back messages made it clear that she was taken completely off-guard. She sent dozens of frantic messages and called many times. I couldn’t bring it upon myself to reply or pick up… and that wasn’t out of spite, but because I’m pretty sure if I actually spoke to her and she disagreed with the break up, I’d cave right away and take her back in a second.

Honestly, I’ve already convinced myself that I probably misunderstood what I saw. Maybe that wasn’t even Jessie. Maybe I didn’t even have to worry about the guy she was sitting on—did I even see them actually kiss?

Holy fuck. I’m delusional.

What the hell is wrong with me, really?

“I believe you,” Rhys tells me. He walks towards his dorm room, which is on the first floor, and I smile at him and make my way towards the elevators. He waits outside his door until I get inside the elevators, giving me a nod as the doors close.

When I get out on the fourth floor, I immediately glance down the hall towards my room. The door’s ajar and there are two boxes outside, which means Jennings is here.

So looking forward to this.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and walk down the hall, pausing right outside the door and giving it a slight knock before stepping in.

“Hey there,” I greet.

Jennings, who’s organizing his closet, turns to me. “Hey. Roommate, right? I took your stuff off my side.”

He gestures towards my side of the room, which is identical to his, with its single bed and closet. Even if his side is still bare, the room looks smaller now that someone else is in it. There’s a window on the wall where our headboards are against, and two study desks separating our beds, and I can see that he’s pushed the books off his desk towards mine.

I nod. “Yeah, sorry, I didn’t know you were coming today, so I wasn’t able to tidy up.”

He shrugs.

I’ve only met him a few times before, and all those times were on the ice. He was always in his gear, face red and his sweaty blond hair sticking to his nape. It’s the first time I’m getting a good look at him, and he’s doing the same thing—giving me a once-over and not even being subtle about it.

He looks slimmer without all the gear, and he’s about my height—six feet, give or take. He has nipple piercings, which protrude through his tight-fitting white shirt. When I realize I’m staring at his damn chest, I snap my gaze to his.

When he’s not behind the cage of a helmet, his eyes are surprisingly striking. I find myself wondering what shade of blue his eyes are, exactly. They’re not an uncommon shade so it’s a bit strange that I find them curious, and it’s not until closer look that I realize it’s because they’ve got tiny flecks of green. So tiny they’re easy to miss, but grab attention once noticed.

Shit. I went from staring at his chest to staring at his eyes. What’s going on with me?

“I’m Caleb,” he says.

“I… yeah, I know. We’ve played against each other a few times before. I’m Nicholas Sandoval, but you can call me Nick.”

Caleb’s brow furrow together and he gives me another once-over. “Right, my uncle… well, I should probably get used to calling him Coach, mentioned you were also on the team. Really, we’ve played against each other?”

“Yes.” You threatened to knock me out.

“Oh, my bad. Not so good with faces. Or names. What position?”

“Right winger.”

“Cool, I play left. Maybe we’ll end up on the same line.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, forcing a smile.

“What’s that?”

“What’s… what?”

“That creepy thing you’re doing with your face.”

That easily, my smile drops, and I blink at him. “I… huh? It’s a… smile?”

“Listen.” Caleb grimaces, and his posture is stiff, leaving me wondering what the hell I did wrong. “I don’t know what that is, but that definitely wasn’t a smile.”

What the…?

Irritation courses down my spine and I smile again, much tighter this time, only because if I don’t, my patience might slip. I don’t usually let words get to me, but it’s been a rough day.

Suddenly, he lets out a hoarse laugh. The sound of it grates on my nerves. “Wait! Yeah! Sandoval. I remember you. I remember that annoying smile of yours, anyway. Freaked me out and I said I’d knock you out if you didn’t quit it.”

I can practically feel the vein in my temple pulsing. “Mm-hmm.”

Caleb’s expression twists, then he shakes his head and mutters something under his breath. He turns away and goes back to fixing his closet, dismissing me.

Well. Okay, then.

Wanting to get out of one of the weirdest and most aggravating interactions of my life, I head to our small bathroom. I shut the door behind me and lean against it, scrubbing a hand down my face and letting out a deep breath.

For the first time in a long time, I’m actually pissed off.