6. Dylan #2
No one moves for a moment before Finn strides forward.
He moves faster than I expect, catching me off guard as he snatches the bowl of popcorn from my lap while simultaneously scooping up the remote control before collapsing onto the vacant sofa.
His long legs stretch out across the couch, and he rests one hand behind his head on the cushion, the bowl balanced on the hard plane of his abs as he flicks between channels.
“Wha— Hey!” I protest, leaning forward to snatch the remote back.
Focus intent on the TV screen, he acts like I’m an annoying fly buzzing around him as he holds the controller out of my reach.
“Give me that!” I snarl, pushing to my feet to stand over him. “Finn!” He still doesn’t acknowledge me, and this time, when I try to grab the remote from him, he stuffs it down the front of his jeans.
I gape at his crotch for a full five seconds before snapping my gaze to his face, my expression one of horror and disgust. “That’s just nasty,” I hiss at him.
He still doesn’t spare me a single glance. Not the flicker of an eye movement. The slight uptilt of his lip. If he pulled that stunt on anyone else, he’d be grinning like a proud momma bear at his own idiocy.
Whirling on Ethan, I point a furious finger at him. “You!”
Lips flattened into a straight line, he arches an eyebrow as if to say, What? He’s moved farther into the room, depositing the pizza boxes on the coffee table before he stands to face me once again.
“This pretend I don’t exist rule is bullshit,” I tell him.
“It’s one thing for the team to ignore me when we’re at practice, but it doesn’t work outside of that.
” I gesture around us. “How are we supposed to live together when you ignore my very presence?” My throat goes tight, and I have to force out the next words.
“You don’t get to act like I’m invisible. This is my house, too!”
There is the barest hitch in my voice, and I snap my mouth shut, moving to fold my arms over my chest and stare him down like I didn’t nearly show him or the others a hint of weakness.
Shoving back my shoulders, I lift my chin and, in a haughty voice, say, “Unless you all plan on moving out?”
His nose wrinkles, the only reaction he gives. Still, I can tell he’s considering what I said. Finn must see it, too, as he finally unglues his eyes from the TV to look at his captain.
When it seems as though Ethan isn’t going to say anything at all—some captain he is—Jax’s voice cuts through the silence from the doorway where he has been leaning casually against the frame, a silent observer to our interaction. “She’s not wrong.”
Ethan’s jaw tightens, but he nods begrudgingly. “No, unfortunately, she isn’t,” he agrees, tone clipped. His gaze remains on me. “What do you suggest instead?”
I shuffle beneath the scrutiny of his stare, not having expected him to ask my opinion. He’s the type to take charge, to make a decision and expect everyone to agree wholeheartedly.
“House rules,” I respond after giving it a moment’s thought. “We set rules for within this house, and if one of us breaks them, there are consequences.”
After a moment of deliberation, he nods his agreement.
“Are you two happy with that?” he asks, flicking his gaze toward Finn and Jax.
“All good here,” Jax immediately agrees.
“Sure,” Finn says, his tone much more blasé.
“We’ll set some house rules, then.” Striding over to the stairs, Ethan calls up to Kyle. “Get down here. Now.”
A few minutes later, Kyle reappears. “Is she go—” Seeing me standing there, his glare turns as sharp as ever. “Guess not,” he mutters under his breath.
Ethan points to the cuddle chair, and Kyle practically storms over to it. “What now?” he sighs, dropping dramatically onto the seat .
Ethan surveys the room, looking each of us in the eye, before saying, “None of us are happy about this situation, but Dylan is right.” Oh, I bet that hurt to say. “Regardless of what happens with the team, we are roommates, and we need to get along.” Oh, that looks like it hurt even more.
I suck my lips between my teeth to smother my smirk, but Jax notices, raising a single eyebrow, but I swear I catch a glint of amusement in his deep gaze.
I quickly look away, frowning as I focus back on Ethan’s speech.
“Let’s keep this simple,” he continues, widening his stance and crossing his arms over his chest as he surveys the room. “Common spaces are neutral. No fighting. No messing with someone else’s stuff. If you’ve got a problem, bring it to me, and we’ll get it resolved.”
He waits until the guys nod before piercing me with his gray-blue stare. “That about cover it?” he taunts.
Giving him a tight smile, I hold up my index finger. “I just have one more addition. What happens on the ice, stays on the ice.”
Kyle scoffs, but Ethan holds eye contact with me before nodding.
“I also want to know what you’re going to do about your little ‘ignore me’ rule after Roster Day.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I stare Ethan down, blocking out Kyle’s shuffling or the fact Finn is now sitting upright on the sofa, his feet planted and elbows resting on his knees as he listens.
“I don’t think we should worry about that just yet,” he responds diplomatically.
“Easy for you to say.” Raising my chin, I know I’m going to incite Kyle’s wrath as I dare to ask, “What happens if I get a spot on the team?”
Right on cue, Kyle scoffs, but I still don’t give him any of my attention. He’s not important. He’s as insignificant as a blade of grass. Ethan is the one who matters. The one who will make the decision, the leader who the team will look up to for guidance.
There’s a tightness to his jaw, a pursing of his lips before he says, “Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself?”
I arch an eyebrow in return. He, along with the rest of the team, have been scrutinizing my every move, every pass, for nearly two weeks now. He knows what I can do. He knows I’m not going to be warming the bench all year—he’s just in fucking denial.
“It’s a bridge we’ll cross when we come to it,” he states with finality.
I shake my head, not surprised yet finding myself disappointed all the same. I’d hoped he was better, but perhaps I read him wrong.
“What about tonight?” Finn interjects, clearly focused on the more pressing issue. “Who gets the living room?”
Grabbing my blanket from the floor, I snatch the bowl of popcorn from Finn’s greedy fingers, all the while glowering at him. “Living room is all yours,” I tell him before marching toward the stairs. They’ve already ruined my peaceful night.
As I approach Ethan, I slow, deliberately meeting his gaze. My voice is low as I stab him with my words. “Excellent decision making, Captain .”
I brush past him and up the stairs. However, as I reach the top, he calls my name.
I turn slowly, finding him standing at the bottom of the steps, his silhouette cast in shadow from the lights behind.
“We’re hosting a party here next Friday after the roster is announced.
Just wanted to be a good roommate and let you know. ”
I scoff internally. Yeah, right. A good roommate would have asked .
He turns away, but stops. “Oh, and as your captain, attendance is mandatory.”
Pasting a smile on my face, my tone is acerbic as I respond, “Can’t wait to celebrate my new position as a Steelhawk.”
I only get a brief moment of satisfaction, as his expression clouds over, before I turn my back to him and hurry to my room.
After a week of being gawked at like I’m the latest zoo animal, I decided to skip the cafeteria for lunch on Friday afternoon. Wide eyes and whispers have followed me everywhere all week. I knew to expect it once the semester started, but that doesn’t make it easier to adjust to.
Especially with the new addition of Bench Bunny that I’ve heard multiple people whispering when I walk past or when they are sitting right behind me in class.
The first time I heard the dickwad two seats away from me mutter those words in my sports marketing and branding class, I nearly stabbed him in the eye with my pen.
I’d zoned out the rest of that class, too busy cursing out the fucking puck bunnies who interrogated me at lunch.
Naturally, they’d be the ones to spread such bullshit.
Whatever. Once the season starts, everyone here will realize I’m not here to ride the bench.
And I’m sure as hell not here to bag myself a Steelhawks idiot for a boyfriend—or husband.
Anyway, I’ve had enough of the staring and the whispering and the goddamn name-calling for one week, so instead of subjecting myself to more of it in the cafeteria, I grab a sandwich from the on-campus shop and decide to explore a little.
I have yet to venture away from the athletics area where the sports center, arena, and the building with all my classes are situated, but as I walk, I remember that there is an entire campus beyond the athletic department.
With all the sports-related stuff being contained to the east side of campus, sometimes it feels like it’s just us here.
But the farther west I head, the more the view around me changes.
Gone are guys in sweats and team jackets.
No girls wearing tight spandex or people juggling backpacks and oversized duffel bags weighed down with sports gear.
Instead, preppy kids wear shirts and ties, girls in plaid and Mary Jane’s, their backpacks swinging from both shoulders and books clutched against their chests.
There are Goth kids dressed in all black, smoking what is most definitely weed under a tree.
Two students walk past, and I overhear part of their conversation about what clubs they are going to sign up for this year.
I might only be a quarter mile from the sports center but it’s like I’ve stepped into an alternate universe.