10 wrong room
Friday night hits different once the list is up and the names are real, not just something you're chasing but something you actually made, and the energy around the team all day has been building toward this, guys louder than usual, practices sharper, conversations shorter like everyone's just waiting for the moment it flips from work to celebration.
By the time we end up at the club, it's already packed, music loud enough that it settles into your chest, lights cutting across the room in quick flashes that make everything feel faster than it is, and I'm somewhere between buzzed and gone enough that everything feels easier, lighter, like the week finally let go of me.
Scott's next to me at the bar, leaning back like he owns the place even though he definitely doesn't, talking to someone I don't know and somehow already making them laugh, because that's just how he is, easy, loud in the way people actually like.
"You're quieter than usual, Bennett," he says, glancing over at me mid-sentence.
"I'm always quiet," I reply, taking another drink.
"That's such bullshit," he says immediately, shaking his head. "You're only quiet when you're thinking too much."
"I'm not thinking."
"Yeah, that's worse."
I huff out a laugh, glancing out toward the floor where a bunch of the guys are already moving, energy high, voices overlapping.
"That your plan tonight," Scott adds, nodding toward the crowd. "Or are you just gonna stand here and brood?"
"I don't brood."
"You absolutely brood."
"Shut up."
He grins. "There it is."
Before I can respond, someone claps him on the shoulder, pulling him into another conversation, and I step away from the bar, moving through the crowd without really thinking about it, letting the noise take over instead of whatever's still sitting in the back of my head.
I spot him a few minutes later.
Logan.
He's across the room, not doing anything dramatic, just standing with a few of the older guys, drink in his hand, talking in that steady, controlled way he always does, like even here, even now, he's still the one setting the tone.
Captain.
It fits.
He doesn't look like he's trying to be in charge, but everyone around him adjusts anyway, like it's automatic.
Scott catches up to me again, following my line of sight.
"Coleman," he says, nodding slightly. "You've met him, right?"
"Not really," I answer, watching him for a second longer.
"He's intense," Scott adds. "But he's fair. You do your job, he's fine. You don't, he'll make your life hell."
"Sounds fun."
Scott snorts. "You'll be fine. You're too stubborn not to be."
"Good to know."
Logan glances over for a second, eyes moving across the room in that assessing way I've already seen on the field, and they land on me just long enough to register before he looks away again like he's already made some kind of note.
I don't think too much about it.
Or I try not to.
The night blurs after that in the way it does when you stop tracking time, drinks stacking without me counting, conversations starting and ending without really sticking, everything louder, easier, less controlled.
I meet her somewhere near the middle of the floor, not even sure who started the conversation, just that she's there and she's close and it feels like exactly what this night is supposed to be.
Easy.
Simple.
We're laughing about something I won't remember later, her hand sliding into mine like it's already decided, and when she leans in, I don't hesitate.
It's quick at first.
Then not.
By the time we leave, we're barely talking, just moving, hands on each other, the city air hitting us as we step outside but not really registering, because I'm not thinking about anything except what's right in front of me.
I don't think about the dorm.
I don't think about anything waiting there.
I just move.
-
The hallway is quieter than the rest of the night, footsteps echoing slightly as we make our way down it, her laughing softly against my shoulder when I fumble with the key for half a second before getting the door open.
We're already kissing again before it's even fully closed.
I don't think.
I don't stop.
We stumble inside, her hands in my shirt, mine at her waist, everything fast and unfocused in that way that doesn't require anything except momentum-
"WHAT THE FUCK-"
The light snaps on.
I freeze.
Everything stops at once, like someone cut the sound.
I pull back immediately, breath catching slightly as my eyes adjust, and there she is.
Everly.
Sitting up in her bed, eyes wide, hair messy like she just woke up, one hand still hovering near the lamp like she turned it on without even thinking.
Fuck.
"Shit," I mutter under my breath, dragging a hand down my face as the reality of this hits all at once.
The girl next to me goes still for half a second, then pulls back slightly, looking between me and Everly like she's trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
"What the hell?" she says, turning fully toward me now. "Do you just bring every girl here?"
"No-" I start, already shaking my head. "It's not-she's-"
"She's what?" the girl cuts in, arms crossing slightly.
"My roommate," I say, because there's no way to make that sound normal.
There's a beat of silence. Then, "Are you serious?"
"Yeah."
She stares at me like I just said the dumbest thing she's ever heard, then lets out a sharp laugh that isn't actually amused.
"That's insane," she says. "I'm not doing this."
"It's not-" I try again, but she's already moving.
"No," she says, shaking her head. "No, that's weird."
She grabs her things and heads for the door, and I don't stop her, because there's nothing I can say that's going to fix this.
The door shuts behind her.
Silence.
I stand there for a second, then exhale slowly, dragging a hand through my hair before turning toward Everly.
"Thanks for that," I say, voice dry. "Really great timing, Coleman. Absolute cock blocker."
She stares at me, still processing, then blinks once like she's catching up.
"I just woke up to two people storming into my room," she says, incredulous. "What did you expect me to do?"
"It's also my room," I point out.
"It's our room," she corrects immediately, arms crossing slightly now. "And you could've maybe not brought someone here in the middle of the night."
"We were already here," I argue.
"That doesn't make it better, Jackson," she says.
"Why didn't you just go to her dorm?"
I think about it.
Really think about it. Then-
"Fuck," I mutter, because yeah, that would've made more sense.
"I forgot," I add, quieter now. "I forgot you were here."
She blinks, then rolls her eyes, turning away slightly. "Wow. Thanks."
"That's not what I meant," I say, even though I don't really know what I meant.
She doesn't respond.
The room settles into something quieter, heavier, and I exhale again before moving over to my bed, dropping onto it and kicking my shoes off without bothering to turn the light off.
I'm tired now.
The kind of tired that hits all at once when everything else stops.
Everly shifts on her bed, then reaches over and turns the light off, the room falling back into darkness except for the faint glow from outside.
We're both quiet for a minute.
Maybe more.
"Next time," she says into the dark, her voice calmer now but still edged slightly, "you could just text me that you're bringing someone over."
I let out a quiet huff of a laugh, staring up at the ceiling. "I don't even have your number, Coleman."
There's a pause. "Maybe you should."
I snort quietly at that, turning my head slightly toward her side of the room even though I can't really see her.
"Yeah," I say. "Maybe."
The room goes quiet again after that.
But it's not the same kind of quiet as before.