Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Zaiah
My skates glide easily over the ice while Coach runs us through drills. He keeps barking out encouragements like he sits on a fortune cookie committee, except his quips are laced with f-bombs.
“Our winningest season in fucking decades!”
“Get your fucking asses in gear!”
“Do you know why we fucking win? Because we’re fucking good.”
A sliver of annoyance digs into me. Not at Coach per se, but at the feelings his words bring to the surface. We’re having a damn good season, yet no one cares. Attendance is down. I don’t need anyone to tell me the actual numbers, I see it every time I skate out onto the ice to an abysmal number of people. The trash talk from the opposing team is fucking embarrassing. Plus, when we go to away games, their arenas are always brimming with spectators.
Warner does not care about hockey. That much is clear.
Football is their obsession. The town flocks to their games in blue and white despite the bad publicity they received last year from their involvement in that prank.
Adam skates next to me, leaning on his outside edges as we practice footwork. “The Fresh say your roommate is, um… How should I say this? Mousy? Boring? Forgettable?”
For the first time in months, I actually slept well. I didn’t want to leave my bed, waiting until the last possible second to get ready for practice. The air smelled normal. There wasn’t some asshole snoring off alcohol. My new place is the picture of peace and tranquility…and this makes me oddly defensive of my roommate. “Len? So?”
“I thought you said her name was something else?”
“It is. Was. She said she prefers Len, so obviously, I’m calling her Len.”
We both stop fast, spraying ice against the boards, then spin around and start again. He chuckles. “I thought a talk with you would be necessary, considering your history together, but the Fresh assured me you’d be fine living with her. Zero temptation.”
“I told you not to worry. Len isn’t Trish, and you know I’m not interested in dating right now.”
“Says every man until a girl traipses around in lace panties and bras and booty shorts and crop tops in a confined, private space. The struggle is real.” He laughs again. “But the guys say she’s more the type to wear Grandma’s nightgown than any of those things.”
Truthfully, I barely looked at Len before. She was always just there. I had eyes for Trish from the beginning. It was a ridiculous way to meet, really—walking around campus, slightly inebriated, and looking up to find a girl dancing on a table. The curtains were wide open, and there she was. I was struck.
Before I even knew what I was doing, I’d picked up a pebble and threw it at the window to get her attention, then my drunk ass gestured to come up. Who opened the door but a freaking bombshell.
My blades cut through the ice, and I don’t even realize I’m going faster than normal until I have to turn quick to avoid hitting the boards, making Adam sprawl so he doesn’t barrel into me. “You dick!” he calls out as he slides into the wall with a thunk .
I chuckle under my breath, then circle back around. “My bad, bro. I was distracted.”
“Yeah, I can only imagine what had you unfocused.”
“You’re the one who brought her up.”
I grasp his hand and pull him upright as Coach calls it. The team and I walk into the locker room, energized from the morning skate-around. Adam throws his gloves into his locker. “You should watch out anyway.”
Jesus, are we still talking about this?
“I know, I know, quit bringing it up,” he mimics, still eyeing me. “But you moved in with the wrong girl. She’s going to get attached.”
“She was Trish’s best friend.”
“So? Trish is out of the picture, and this shy girl just got this handsome new roommate.”
“Aww, you think I’m handsome?”
He ignores my banter. “With your luck, you’ll have a stalker next.”
I roll my eyes. “You couldn’t be further off. Len is… What’s that word when you don’t like sex at all. Asexual? It’s possible she’s asexual. I’ve never seen her look at anyone before.”
“Maybe she’s a closet lesbian?”
“If she is, I wouldn’t have to worry, right? I’m telling you, this is the best thing that could’ve happened. She’ll be the perfect suitemate. She’s clean. She keeps to herself. She went to bed early last night to work on her article, and I didn’t even see her this morning. I’ve stumbled upon gold here.”
“Well—”
I cut him off because when Adam starts down the “sky is falling” path, sometimes you have to do that, or he’ll go on and on. First, it was because Len was Trish’s best friend. Then it was because Len’s going to fall for me. Next, it’ll be that she’ll introduce me to weird reporter sex parties or something he saw on Dateline reruns five years ago. “Well, nothing. I’m good. She’s good. You’re not in this equation, so you don’t need to worry about it.”
He lifts his hands in surrender and grins. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you make your own bad decisions.”
I groan before heading into the showers to wash up. He means well, but his ability to conjure up worst-case scenarios in every possible situation is exhausting. When I get back out there, most of the guys are gone, so I quickly gather my things and walk toward the cafeteria. The crisp morning air bites at my skin while I trek across campus.
The state-of-the-art football stadium looms above everything in the distance, but when I pass by the new football facility, jealousy washes over me. They don’t even try to hide the discrepancy between how they treat football players versus other Warner athletes. Our practice rink needs major updates, and instead of getting our own beautiful arena on campus like the football team, we have to go to the closest city and use the triple-A team’s facility. The public doesn’t care, and the students who might watch us don’t have transportation. It’s a sorry situation all the way around.
A few members of the football team spill out of the side door, and I watch them before making myself turn away. I thought I was coming to Warner to play hockey for people who cared. They promised so many things. I should’ve entered the transfer portal with my roommate, then maybe I’d be living it up somewhere else, playing for actual fans and crowds in nice arenas with teams who have a support system.
And the only fucking reason I didn’t enter the transfer portal cheated on me. Fuck my life. Since I’m a senior, there’s nothing I can do about it now. I’m stuck.
A few underclassmen scurry out of my way as I walk into the building that holds the cafeteria. I can imagine the scowl I’m carrying right now; however, I can’t help but be mad about the injustice of it all. Coach says he lobbies for us with Warner Athletics, but whatever he’s doing isn’t enough.
If things were different…
I spot Len out of the corner of my eye and stop in my tracks. People steer around me in the hall, but I’m transfixed. Through the large newsroom window, I spy her smiling. Her face is flush. She swipes her hair around her ear. She’s…pretty. Her blue eyes sparkling. I walk toward the glass, watching her the whole time until I realize she’s staring up at some guy.
So, she’s definitely not asexual. Maybe she’s just shy…and awkward.
I know she’s smart. Trish used to say all the time how Len was studying or writing an article or had her nose in a book. We went out to dinner to celebrate her article exposing the football team’s antics. The local news even picked it up and ran it. I don’t know how much media attention she received, but I could tell how proud she was of it. Plus, I was selfishly loving it since it made the football team look like assholes. Not that it did any lasting damage to their reputations.
One of the players is even dating the girl who got caught up in their rivalry. Like, how the hell does that happen?
If only the hockey team had more press…
I blink as the guy leans over her, peering at something on her computer. She tenses, like she doesn’t know what to do, and a smile peels my lips apart. She’s cute like this. Her shyness is endearing, but I also feel for her. It doesn’t take long to figure out that she’s crushing on this guy and he has no idea. Or if he does, he doesn’t care.
Someone walks by them, and he asks, “Hey, are you finished with that piece on the football team?”
It’s probably some glowing play-by-play of their latest win. If only someone would write a piece—
Holy shit . My new roommate is literally a reporter. She could— Well, I could ask her to write an article about the hockey team. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier.
My feet start moving before I even consciously know what I’m doing, and within a few seconds, I’m pushing open the glass doors. Several people peer up at me and stop what they’re doing, eyes rounding.
“Zaiah?”
I follow the sound of Len’s voice. She’s standing, her eyebrows arched as she takes me in.
“Hey,” I say, walking toward her.
She gives me an even more incredulous look. “Is there something wrong? Did you forget your key?”
The guy she has a crush on peers back and forth between the two of us, but it’s merely confusion, nothing more. “No, I was hoping I could talk to you.”
“Right…now?”
I nod.
Her face flushes pink. “I’m in the middle of something with my editor.” She hikes her thumb over her shoulder at the male version of herself. Glasses. Studious. Maybe doesn’t have the best taste in clothes.
“Oh, hey, man.” I hold out my hand.
He shakes it, and it’s weak as hell.
This is the guy she likes?
I toss that thought aside because it’s none of my business. I’m pretty sure staying out of each other’s personal lives was implied in the contract. Hell, she may have even put that stipulation in there, but I barely skimmed through it before signing. I would’ve agreed to anything.
When I stay where I am, Len’s shoulders deflate. She turns toward her “editor,” though I’m pretty sure he’s still a student and not some trained guy the school hired. “Sorry, could I have a minute?” she asks him.
“Yeah, sure.”
He steps back, and I give him a polite wave.
Immediately, Len grabs my shirt and drags me all the way down the length of the white table and into a corner. Unlike her crush, she’s surprisingly strong.
“What are you doing?” she hisses. “I didn’t think I needed to explain in the contract that work is work and you’re not to bother me at it.” She pushes her glasses up her nose and crosses her arms in front of her chest.
I smile, leaning against the wall. “You’re mad I interrupted that moment with your boy toy.”
The color drains from her face.
“If you’re a reporter and he’s your editor, isn’t he, like, your superior? I didn’t peg you as that kind of… Well, isn’t that kind of risqué?”
“I don’t like him,” she rushes out, glancing up to make sure no one is close enough to hear us talking. Her eyes catch on him all the way across the room.
I watch the whole thing with a knowing grin. “You’re a lying liar.”
“What are you? Five?”
I shrug. “Sometimes, and this moment calls for it because you’re also acting like you’re five. You’re an adult. Own up to a crush.”
“Zaiah, I’m going to need you to— Wait, is this the reason you came in here? To ask me about Clark?”
I grimace. “His name’s Clark? He’s trying too hard.”
“Oh yeah, because I’m sure he came up with his own name.”
“People do,” I tell her. “You’d be surprised.” She rolls her eyes, and I can’t help but watch with fascination. Teasing her is fun. “If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure he has no idea you like him.”
She drops her fa?ade. “Really?” As soon as the question pops out of her mouth, she shakes her head. “I could care less because it’s not about that. So, now that we’re clear about,” she waves her hands, “that, is this really what you wanted to come in here to talk to me about?”
She’s adorable when she’s annoyed, just like my little sister. I love to get her all wound up and then set her loose like an Energizer bunny with hormones. “No, I came in here to ask you a favor.”
She smiles. “Oh, good. No.”
“I haven’t even said what it is yet.”
“Still no. Now, can I go back to work?”
She taps her foot against the floor, her gaze darting to Clark across the room. I doubt I’m actually getting her in trouble, but invading her space wasn’t the best idea. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to bother you at work. I was walking by and saw you, and I had an idea. My mistake about you having a crush on Clark.” It’s not a mistake at all. I’d bet on it.
She peers away. “It’s none of your business.”
“Plus, it’s none of my business,” I echo.
She’s quiet for a few moments. “Fine, okay. What, then?”
“I was watching you in here and I had a thought. The hockey team is having a great season, but no one knows about it. I thought maybe you could write an article detailing how awesome we are.”
The dead stare she gives me catches me off guard. Her once sparkling eyes are now cold. “Wow, you really don’t know me at all. No, I won’t. Final answer.”
She spins on her heel and walks right back to her laptop. I blink at her rapid exit. O-kay. I hit a nerve. Guess she’s not a hockey fan. Or maybe a sports fan in general. Or it’s possible she’s just not a me fan…
Dejected, I walk past, and when she doesn’t even look up, I realize I’ve stepped in it big time.
That’s the last thing I wanted to do.
Fuck.
Way to go, James. Well played.