He matches my stance, looming over me like the world's hottest thundercloud. "You fucked with mine, now it's my turn. Get used to it."
"I hate you."
"Let me search for the fucks I give . . . none."
"Well, thanks for the warm welcome." I sweep my arm toward the door. "But I have some very important unpacking to do. So, see yourself the fuck out."
"Running away again?"
"Nope." I moonwalk toward my room while giving him my middle finger because if I'm going to be petty, might as well commit. "Just choosing not to engage with your particular brand of crazy today. Bye, bye now!"
Luckily, he doesn’t bother to follow me, and a few seconds later the door slams hard enough to rattle the walls. Victory lap canceled by the way my hands shake as I collapse onto my bed. My phone's already in my hand, pulling up Raiyne's number.
That ginger bitch owes me.
Me: Still hate you but need a favor.
Raiyne: Only if you promise to forgive me.
Me: Not how it works, asshole. You going to help or not?
Raiyne: Sure. Tell me what you need.
I fill him in on Zach's little roommate manipulation, and Raiyne comes up with the perfect mindfuck. By the time we're done scheming, my hands have stopped trembling.
This is supposed to be my fresh start, my chance to figure out who I am and what I want, which is scary enough because I never really thought about my future. Up to this point, my whole life's simply been about trying to survive to the next day.
But now Zach's here, bringing chaos like it's his fucking job and damaging my fucking calm.
Which means I know one thing's for sure—college is going to be anything but boring.
Chapter 11
Zach
The sound of skates scraping ice and the occasional thud of a puck against the boards fills the air as we warm up. My fingers curl around my stick, the pressure uneven and awkward. They tremble faintly, the numbness worse than usual today.
I roll my shoulders, looking toward the other end of the rink where the Serpents are warming up in their ugly-ass green jerseys. Of course, Jackson and Blackwell are at center ice, talking—or more accurately, bickering. They’re also graduating and will be on rival NHL teams next year, but I have zero doubt their antics will still ensue.
Blackwell smiles and taps Jackson on the ass with his stick. My friend flips his boyfriend the finger while smirking. "Keep it up, asshole. I'll beat that ass later."
"Promises, promises." Blackwell winks before skating away.
“Cute,” I mutter as Jackson glides up beside me.
He quirks a brow. “Jealous?”
“Of what? Public displays of stupidity?” I glance at him, my tone as flat as ever. “Hard pass.”
“Extra touchy today.” He bumps me with his shoulder just as Connor skates over. “Have anything to do with Eli’s new roommate?”
My lips press into a thin line. “Drop it.”
As much as I’d love to make Merci’s life a living hell, Alexei called and made it clear if I so much as breathed wrong in Eli’s vicinity, I’m a dead man. Not that I want to upset Eli. I actually like him. And I wasn’t lying when I said he was family.
Still, it was irritating when I thought he called Alexei and snitched. Turns out my friend installed a few cameras hidden in the dorm to “keep an eye” on his boyfriend.
Fucker.
