Chapter 04
Mia’s suggestion stays with me throughout the whole day.
I make myself a big bowl of oats with milk and a carefully measured scoop of protein powder to stop my stomach from eating itself, then spread out on the couch as I scroll the internet for summer jobs.
I should have done this weeks ago. I could kick my ass thinking about the balance in my bank account right now, but the pickings are incredibly slim this year.
In the end, I always come back to rereading Mia’s messages.
Several times, I type out an answer, then delete it again.
By the time the door starts opening and closing in quick succession, my roommates trickling in from whatever they’ve been doing, I haven’t made any progress on the job hunt—or Mia.
“What should we do about dinner?” Sasha asks, like I’m the authority on mealtimes—which isn’t wrong. I cook, and they keep the fridge filled. That arrangement works out for everyone, but mostly me.
“Uhm…well, I could scrape together a pasta salad, or we’ll have to go get groceries first,” I offer.
“Ugh, no, I’m beat,” she groans and drops onto the couch beside me just as Nicko walks in, a pack of chips in his hands.
“We could order something,” he suggests as he crunches on a small piece.
My stomach drops as I quickly do the math in my head.
It’s still early in the month, and the party already tore a hole in my savings that I didn’t see coming.
I’d been sure the captaincy would go to Seb.
When Coach Wagner handed it to me instead, I couldn’t turn it down.
And once you make captain, you throw the damn party—it’s a tradition.
I kept it as small as I could get away with, but I’ll still have to be thrifty for the next few weeks.
“I’ll whip up something quick,” I tell Nicko while he shakes out the last crumbs into his palm, then frowns at the pack.
“I swear they keep making these smaller and smaller.”
“That’s called shrinkflation, Nicholas. Welcome to capitalism,” Olli announces as he strolls into the living room, then claps his hands. “Now listen up, kids, I’m calling a roommate meeting!”
“What? What for?” Nicko groans, just as Sasha points out that: “Lind and Marisol are missing.”
“Just Marisol. I’m here.”
Linden’s hair is damp from the shower. A few stray drops fall from the tips, darkening his oversized shirt.
I bet half his clothes would fit me just fine, even though I’ve got five inches and at least sixty pounds on him.
There are shadows under his eyes, just like the day he walked in on us in the bathroom.
I give him a small smile when our eyes meet, and he tilts his head in response.
“That’s fine. I’ve already cleared this with her.” Olli waves Sasha’s objection off like he’s batting at a fly and sinks into the armchair.
“Can’t this wait until we’ve decided what to do about dinner?” Nicko complains, but he’s sitting down as well, crumpling up the empty chips bag in his hands.
“Hush, you’ll live, and this is important for you,” Olli corrects him. “It’s about who’ll get your room after you move out.”
“That has literally nothing to do with me!” Nicko throws his hands up, then reaches for his cell phone. “I’m ordering burgers. Who’s in?”
“I’m good,” I announce quickly before a small commotion breaks out, everyone leaning over their cell phones and scrolling through the menus.
Nicko selflessly takes it upon himself to place the order.
Though I suspect he’s also using the opportunity to check in on his boyfriend, who flew out to Oregon this morning to see his moms.
The moment he leaves the room, Linden drops into the space beside me on the couch. He lets out a groan as he sinks into the cushions, low and tired, and I can practically feel the sensation underneath my ribcage.
“Tough day?” I ask him, but Olli cuts me off with a snap of his fingers.
“Focus now! We need to talk about Nicko’s room,” he chides, and I sigh.
Nicko will move out once the hockey camp he’s teaching wraps up.
After that, he’s planning a summer trip to the Netherlands with his boyfriend and twin brother before reporting for training with his NHL team.
It still feels crazy to imagine my sullen, socially averse roommate as a professional hockey player.
The college kid who’s currently ordering half a truckload of food in the hallway will get into fights with hockey legends—because we all know he will—on national TV.
I wonder how I will feel about all of this next year, when it’s my time to move to the next stage of life.
College football draws a lot of attention, but I still feel protected in our campus bubble.
BTech’s made a name for itself as a football talent factory over the past two decades, but I mostly fly under the radar—covered by the giant shadows players like Seb or Evander cast with their family legacies.
I’ll have to step out from under them sooner rather than later if I want a future of my own, which brings me back to the messages on my locked phone screen.
“Micah?”
I jump when Sasha elbows me in the ribs, knocking me sideways into Linden’s space.
“Ouch!” I complain and rub my side. That girl’s a hockey player through and through, every jab a weaponized hit.
“Sorry,” she apologizes sheepishly. “But you kinda zoned out on us.”
Three pairs of eyes are fixated on me, and I blink back in confusion, only realizing now that a whole conversation must have gone right over my head.
“Sorry, what?”
“Olli asked if you wanted first pick on Nicko’s room,” Linden explains.
“Oh, uhm…” I bite my lip, my eyes dropping to my hands. Nicko’s room is amazing—the biggest one in the house, with large windows and a nice view. But the rent is probably astronomical.
“The thing is, I kinda already promised it to someone else,” Olli admits with a crooked grin, unknowingly saving me.
“Olli!” Linden protests on my behalf, his forehead furrowed. “If Micah wants the room, he should get it. For one, his current room is tiny. And also, Johnson promised he’d install an AC up there when he moved in, but never did. He deserves first pick.”
“True.” Olli hums and throws me an apologetic smile. “Sorry, man, I didn’t think about how cramped your space was. I’ll tell Vince no then.”
“Wait!” I interject when I see him reaching for his cell phone, my mind reeling as I try to catch up. “Who’s Vince?”
The contrite look on Olli’s face quickly disappears when he raises a brow at me. “My friend I just talked about? He’s searching for a room for next year—didn’t you listen at all?!”
“Sorry, I…had a long day,” I mumble, then hurry to add, “But he can have Nicko’s room then! I’ll stay in the attic.”
“Are you sure?” Linden turns to me, still frowning. “It must be sweltering up there right now.”
Actually, it feels like the ninth circle of hell, but I’m not going to tell him that.
“Nah, I’m good.” I laugh instead and wave him off.
“Nicko’s room would be wasted on me. As soon as training and classes start again, I’ll be gone the whole day.
And with away games on top of that—just give it to that Vince guy.
” I keep an easy smile on my lips, even as the words gnaw on my insides.
It’s for the best—I couldn’t afford that room anyway.
“Awesome!” Olli pumps his fist. “I’ll call him right after dinner to set up a meeting.
You guys will love him! Oh, and I’ll also call Johnson and remind him about the AC.
” He winks at me when saying that last part.
I give him a small nod, my lips pressed together in a thin line.
I seriously hope that won’t give Johnson a reason to squeeze a few extra dollars out of me.
“It’s just for another year, and then this big guy will move into a gigantic mansion anyway,” Sasha jokes, elbowing me in the side again, but with a lot more care this time.
“Right. Maybe Johnson can sell house tours then, turn it into a museum.” I put an arm around her, my stomach in knots.
“God, it’s hot today,” Nicko complains over dinner.
We sit outside in the crappy lawn chairs Marisol once brought back from a yard sale, plates balanced on our thighs, hunching over our food.
I’m extremely conscious of every creak that thing makes under me whenever I move.
At the same time, it’s nice to feel the grass tickle my bare feet.
The sensation conjures memories of chasing my mom through an open field until she’d let herself get caught, and my arms would wrap around her soft middle.
“It’s not supposed to be that hot in Vermont.
Humans are not built for this heat. I am not built for this heat!
” Nicko continues miserably as he dunks a fry into a large puddle of mayonnaise.
I sneak a glance at his burger, my mouth watering as I watch the juice run over his fingers.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I pop the cap on my protein shake.
It’s a basic vanilla blend with a fancy name—Seb spent exactly one Instagram post on it before handing it off to me.
I mixed some leftover fruit and oats in it, and it turned out fine.
But the burgers smell fucking delicious.
Somewhere to my right, Linden snorts at Nicko’s whining, redirecting my focus. “Didn’t you spend your whole day at the rink? Imagine this: the AC still hasn’t been fixed at the dog pound!”
I grimace. The temperature is more bearable than it was during training, but the heat’s gone sticky now—trapped between houses and cars, pressing down on the city—those poor animals.
“That’s sort of a you problem, man. You could’ve chosen a superior career path, like hockey! The poor pups, though.” Nicko shrugs, and Linden kicks his leg in response.