Chapter 2 Shared Roof #2
And for the very first time since opening that housing assignment envelope, Mason admitted—even if only to himself—that living with Noah Hayes might not be nearly as terrible as he'd imagined.
House Rules
Noah had lived with enough people over the years to know that the first day usually told you everything you needed to know.
Some roommates filled every silence because they couldn't stand being alone with their thoughts.
Others disappeared into their bedrooms the moment the last box was unpacked, treating a shared apartment like two strangers renting opposite sides of the same hallway.
A few managed to make even the nicest place feel crowded simply by refusing to consider anyone else's routines.
Mason Carter fit into none of those categories.
He was louder than Noah, certainly, and considerably less organized, but there was an easy honesty about him that Noah appreciated.
Mason never pretended to be something he wasn't. If he was annoyed, it showed.
If he found something funny, his laugh filled the room. There was no guessing where he stood.
It was refreshing.
Noah carried the steaming serving dishes to the dining table while Mason finished wiping sawdust from his hands with a kitchen towel.
"You actually built everything," Noah said, looking toward the living room.
"Told you I would."
"I was expecting at least one extra screw."
"I've got a reputation to protect."
"You mean your ego."
"My ego has earned it."
Noah laughed as he placed two plates on the table.
"Come on. Dinner's ready."
Mason approached cautiously, eyeing the meal as though he expected it to disappear.
The roasted chicken rested beside herb-seasoned potatoes and grilled vegetables, while a basket of warm bread sat between them.
"You made all of this in less than an hour?"
"I've had practice."
"I usually spend an hour deciding what to order."
"That's because you think cooking begins with opening a delivery app."
Mason picked up a fork.
"I feel personally attacked."
"You'll survive."
The first bite earned Noah the reaction he had secretly hoped for.
Mason's eyebrows lifted before he looked across the table.
"This is incredible."
"My grandmother would tell you it needs more rosemary."
"Your grandmother has impossible standards."
"She absolutely does."
Mason took another bite before shaking his head.
"I owe you."
"No, you don't."
"I definitely do."
"You built half the furniture."
"I enjoy that."
"And I enjoy cooking."
"So we're both doing what we like."
"Seems fair."
Mason leaned back in his chair.
"I think we've accidentally become functional adults."
"I wouldn't go that far."
"Fair."
Dinner drifted naturally from hockey to childhood stories, favorite road-trip cities, and disastrous attempts at hobbies during the offseason.
Noah learned that Mason had once tried woodworking after watching online videos and had nearly glued two fingers together.
Mason learned that Noah secretly loved gardening despite living in apartments most of his adult life.
"You garden?" Mason asked, sounding genuinely surprised.
"Mostly herbs."
"You're full of surprises."
"You built furniture without instructions."
"Eventually."
"You still got there."
Their conversation flowed so easily that neither noticed how much time had passed until the dishes were nearly empty.
Mason stood first.
"I'll clean."
Noah looked up.
"You don't have to."
"I know."
"You cooked."
"So I wash."
Noah smiled.
"Works for me."
While warm water filled the sink, Noah leaned against the kitchen island watching Mason carefully rinse each plate.
"You know," Noah said, "we should probably talk about how we're going to make this work."
Mason glanced over his shoulder.
"You mean the scary adult conversation?"
"The responsible one."
"I liked 'scary' better."
Noah walked over to the refrigerator, retrieving the welcome packet management had left behind.
"They suggested we work out a few house rules."
Mason groaned dramatically.
"There are rules?"
"Mostly suggestions."
"I can survive suggestions."
"Good."
Noah grabbed a notepad from one of the kitchen drawers.
"Let's keep it simple."
He wrote a short heading before looking up.
"First..."
Mason pointed toward himself.
"I don't cook."
"I figured."
"I can learn."
"I'll happily teach you."
"But until then..."
"I'll handle most dinners."
Mason nodded.
"I'll do dishes."
"Done."
Noah made another note.
"Cleaning?"
"I'm better at vacuuming than dusting."
"I honestly don't know how that's possible."
"I've got hidden talents."
"So vacuuming."
"Vacuuming."
"I'll handle bathrooms."
"I'll take trash."
"Laundry?"
"We're definitely doing our own."
Noah laughed.
"I wasn't planning on folding your underwear."
"Good."
"I appreciate clear boundaries."
"What about groceries?" Mason asked.
"We can alternate weeks."
"Deal."
Within ten minutes they had built a surprisingly reasonable routine.
Cooking.
Cleaning.
Laundry.
Groceries.
Bills.
Parking spaces.
Even television preferences somehow found their way onto the list.
Mason studied the finished page.
"We're disturbingly responsible."
"I blame adulthood."
"I liked being twenty-two."
"You also ate frozen pizza four nights a week."
"I still do."
"I know."
Mason looked offended.
"You don't know that."
"I saw three frozen pizzas in your grocery bag."
"...Right."
Noah tore the page from the notebook before attaching it to the refrigerator with one of the magnets already waiting there.
"There."
"Our official constitution."
"No amendments without mutual agreement."
Mason saluted.
"Understood."
The remainder of the evening passed comfortably.
After the kitchen was spotless, Mason wandered into the living room carrying two bottles of water.
"You still want to watch game film?"
Noah looked toward the television.
"Probably should."
Coach Morrison expected players to review every preseason practice before the following morning.
Mason dropped onto one end of the sectional while Noah opened the team's secure video application.
The television filled with footage from earlier that day.
Almost immediately, Mason pointed toward the screen.
"Pause."
Noah stopped the video.
"There."
Mason leaned forward.
"My route."
Noah watched the replay carefully.
"You drifted a little wide."
"I thought I had space."
"You did."
"So?"
"If you'd cut inside half a second sooner, I would've had an easier passing lane."
Mason studied the footage.
"...You're right."
"I know."
"You don't have to sound so happy."
"I wasn't."
"You smiled."
"I did."
Mason shook his head.
"I hate that you're usually right."
"You'll get used to it."
Together they analyzed nearly an hour of footage.
There was no competition.
No criticism meant to embarrass.
Only two players trying to become better before opening night.
Occasionally they disagreed over positioning.
Sometimes they rewound the same shift four or five times.
Other moments they simply admired an impressive save or laughed at Tyler sprawling dramatically across the crease.
"This one," Mason said suddenly.
"What about it?"
"You knew where I was going."
"I usually do."
"But I hadn't even looked."
"You didn't have to."
Mason frowned thoughtfully.
"That's weird."
"It's chemistry."
"You say that like it's normal."
"It is."
"For us?"
"For good teammates."
Mason considered that for a moment before nodding.
"I guess."
Neither noticed how close they had gradually moved toward the center of the sofa while discussing plays.
Not close enough to touch.
Just close enough that conversation no longer required raising their voices.
By the time the final clip ended, the digital clock beneath the television read nearly eleven.
Mason stretched both arms above his head.
"I'm officially exhausted."
"You'll sleep well."
"I hope so."
He stood before grabbing the empty water bottles.
"I'll throw these away."
Noah watched him disappear briefly into the kitchen before returning.
"You know," Mason said, pausing near the hallway, "today could've gone a lot worse."
"It could have."
"I expected us to spend the whole day trying not to annoy each other."
"And?"
"You still annoy me."
Noah laughed.
"I'll take that as progress."
"It is."
Mason smiled.
"Night."
"Good night."
Their bedroom doors closed only seconds apart.
Silence settled over the condo.
Noah changed into comfortable clothes before brushing his teeth and preparing for bed.
As he adjusted the bedside lamp, he realized something.
The condo already sounded different.
Not louder.
Just...lived in.
A second toothbrush rested beside his own.
Another pair of shoes waited by the front door.
The bookshelf Mason had assembled stood proudly against the living room wall.
Even the faint sound of Mason moving around in the opposite bedroom somehow made the unfamiliar space feel less empty.
Noah sat on the edge of his bed for a moment.
He had expected awkwardness.
Distance.
The polite discomfort that usually came with sharing a home with someone new.
Instead, the first day had unfolded with surprising ease.
Mason was messy.
Talkative.
Stubborn.
Competitive about almost everything.
He also laughed easily, admitted when he was wrong, and somehow made even assembling furniture feel entertaining.
Three months suddenly didn't seem nearly as long as they had that morning.
Noah switched off the bedside lamp and settled beneath the blankets.
Before closing his eyes, he found himself smiling.
It was strange how quickly the condo had begun to feel occupied.
Stranger still was the realization that Mason Carter already felt like he belonged there.
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