Chapter 6
The housing office is utter chaos—a den of harried students and overwhelmed staff. Numbers glow red on the ticketing machine as it spits out slips by the dozen. Forms shuffle across the front desk in unorganized stacks. Conversations meld into a steady murmur that bounces off the walls.
For whatever reason, places like this never seem to keep up with advances in modern technology. Everywhere else, you can make appointments and speak to people on your phone, but the places that have your life in their hands? Long lines, in-person visits, and questionable wait times.
I slip through a gap in the impatient crowd and step up to the counter. Time to tackle this housing mix-up head-on.
“Excuse me,” I say, planting my elbows on the desk. The administrator peers at me over her cat-eye glasses, unimpressed. “I’m Dylan. I just got here yesterday and, well, you put me in an apartment with a bunch of guys from the men’s team?”
She blinks. “Right. You’re the girl named Dylan.”
“Yes, that’s me. The girl.“ I try to keep my tone light. Patience, Dylan. “Not sure how I ended up assigned to the men’s apartment?”
“Housing is full this year. You’re just going to have to wait for an opening.” She grabs a form and shoves it toward me. “Here’s the waiting list application.”
Seriously? I picture myself stuck in an apartment with guys for four months rather than building rapport with my own teammates. No thanks.
“I really can’t stay in a guys’ apartment,” I insist. “Isn’t there any other option?”
The administrator gives a bureaucratic shrug. “You’ll just have to be patient.”
“There must be other places I can rent in this city. But I realize accommodation is part of my club contract. Can’t we adjust it so I just pay my own way somewhere else?”
She shakes her head without a pause. “I’m afraid not, Ms. Morgan. It’s a requirement of your contract that you stay inside the compound in one of our club-owned apartments. Staying anywhere else isn’t financially viable for the club, and there’s concern that being too far away will only lead players to… distractions.”
As if living under the same roof as the two smoking hot rugby players I’ve already had a steamy sex dream about isn’t enough of a distraction. Thanks, lady.
“There are no exceptions, I take it?”
“Absolutely not.” The woman shakes her head again, a move I have a feeling she practices often.
Patience isn’t really my strong suit. But getting riled up won’t help. I take a breath and nod, taking the form. “Got it. I’ll fill this out.”
As I step outside the bustling office, I weigh my options. I could march right back in there and cause a scene—demanding to speak to the housing office’s manager—but that isn’t really my style. Or I can accept the temporary solution for now. As an athlete, I know all too well that sometimes you have to accept what you’re handed and make the best of it.
I pull out my phone to call Liv. “Well, it looks like I’m rooming with players from the men’s team for a bit,” I say.
Liv gasps. “Seriously? That’s insane. I know I was teasing you about meeting hot rugby players, but I never thought it would be because you’re all trapped under the same roof together. Rooming with a bunch of messy men sounds absolutely vile. Are they hot at least?”
“I know, but no use fighting bureaucracy. I’ll make it work.” I pause. “And yes, they are two of the finest specimens I’ve ever seen. Apparently there’s a third guy, but he’s out of town, so I haven’t seen him yet.”
“If you say so,” Liv laughs. “Look, at least it’ll be entertaining, and you’ll have some stories to share by the end of the season.”
“Here’s hoping.” I take a deep breath as I push through the housing office doors again. It’s time to embrace this new, unexpected chapter. I can do this. After all, I’ve endured much worse on the rugby pitch.
I march back up to the front desk, resignation settling in my gut. But I keep my chin up. No point in letting them see me sweat.
“Okay, I see I don’t really have any options other than to accept the temporary housing arrangement,” I tell the administrator as I hand them the form. I’m in a different line from last time, and now I’m talking to a bespectacled, slightly balding man who looks like he’d rather be anywhere than here. Me too, buddy, me too.
He nods, shuffling through a stack of papers. “Alright, this form acknowledges that you understand the placement is only temporary until we can find you alternate accommodations. You forgot to sign here,” he says, pointing at the bottom of the form.
As I scribble my signature, I ask, “Any idea when that might be?”
“Could be a few weeks until something opens up, maybe longer.” He gives an apologetic shrug. “Beginning of the season is our busiest time. Not many people move mid-season, but we do have some overseas players occasionally transitioning in and out at unusual times.”
A few weeks or longer? I stifle a sigh. “Got it, thanks.”
I step outside into the bright afternoon sunlight, watching other incoming players lugging boxes and suitcases around the compound. The first day of a new chapter. Usually, I love the rush of a fresh start. But knowing I have to bunk with the boys dampens my enthusiasm.
Still, there’s no point dwelling on what I can’t change.
I hitch my duffel bag higher on my shoulder and stride towards the apartment. Game on. It’s not ideal, sharing with the guys. But I’ll make the best of it.
Maybe we’ll all get a good laugh out of this ridiculous mix-up.