Chapter 1
Home Ice Advantage
Luke
Five days into preseason and I was already exhausted.I shouldered my goalie bag and pushed through the propped-open doors of Stony Creek Hall, the August humidity clinging to my post-practice sweat.The lobby, which had been empty for the last week while I got settled, was now a war zone on a Thursday afternoon.Parents maneuvered flatbed carts like battering rams, and the air smelled like floor wax, cardboard, and the frantic stress of a thousand goodbyes.
I dodged a dad carrying a futon and headed for the elevator.Move-in day.The one day I’d been dreading since I picked up my key a week ago.
I’d spent the last week in a quiet rhythm: wake up, two-a-days at the rink, lift, eat, sleep.Room 317 had been my sanctuary.I was guaranteed a single, one of the last on campus.That was the deal Coach Harper had swung for the transfer.Get in, steady the crease, keep the grades serviceable, and prove I could be the starter when the season kicked off in October.And so far, I’d been living up to my end of the bargain in practice.Admittedly, it was just the first week, but the team was good.Their previous goalie graduated, and I’d been recruited from a lower-division college the previous spring.
The elevator lurched open.Two first-years squeezed in with me, one holding a tower of plastic storage bins, the other juggling a mini-fridge.They stared at the massive goalie pad sticking out of my duffel, then at the Frost Demons logo on my dry-fit shirt.
“You guys start already?”Mini-Fridge asked.
“Preseason,” I said, pressing the button for the third floor.“Been on the ice a week.”
“Nice.”He shifted the fridge, grimacing.“Heard the Demons needed a miracle in net this year.”
I lifted my eyebrows but let the comment slide.People talked; I stopped caring about unverified opinions two teams ago.The doors opened on three, and I nudged the bag out into a hallway of buzzing fluorescent light and mismatched carpeting.
I headed for 317, anticipating the silence waiting for me.The rest of my day included a shower, a protein shake, and zero human interaction.I reached for my key, ready to unlock my fortress of solitude—and stopped.
The door was unlocked.
Actually, it was cracked open an inch.
My grip tightened on my bag strap.I swear I locked it.Routine was the only thing keeping me sane, and locking the door was step one.I pushed it open with my shoulder, ready to tell whoever was confused about their room number to get out.
But the room wasn’t occupied; it had been colonized.
A guy my age stood by the far wall—average height, lean in that effortless way runners always looked, with brown hair that probably argued with a comb every morning.He wore a faded Harbor Commons T-shirt and shorts, and he was placing a stack of books onto a second desk that hadn’t been there this morning.
Behind him, the room had transformed.My bed was still on the left, but a second bed had been jammed against the right wall.Two dressers.Two desks.One… roommate.
I dropped by gear bag on the ground.The thud made him jump.“Who are you?”I asked.
He turned, holding a mechanical pencil like a dart.His eyes scanned the goalie gear, then my face.“I’m guessing you’re Luke.”He looked at me, took a couple of steps toward me, and extended his hand, “Austen Lovell.”
I didn’t take it and watched as he lowered it looking at the scowl crossing my face.
“Yeah, I was guaranteed a single, which is what I’ve had for the last week.By myself.”I gestured around the cramped space.“What is all this?”
“Furniture, mostly.”He was annoyingly calm compared to my rising panic.“Housing sent me over about an hour ago.Apparently, the ‘single’ on your housing contract was a clerical error.”
“A clerical error,” I repeated flatly.
“That’s what they called it when I showed up, and they didn’t have a room for me in the system.”He pointed to the new bed, which sat about three feet from mine.“I filed for a single too, if it makes you feel better.Neither of us won that lottery.”
“But they told me there’d be space.”
“And yet, here we are.”He looked at me with a scowl that matched my own.“Trust me, this isn’t my idea of a good time either.”
Heat crawled up my neck.I’d planned for late dorm noise, forced fire drills, the weird smell common rooms developed after midnight.Not this.This was the equivalent to a breakaway before the puck even dropped.
I moved my gear bag by the unclaimed dresser.“Housing must’ve screwed up.I’ll straighten it out.”
Austen hummed noncommittally.“If you get a miracle out of them, tell me how you did it.I’ll buy you dinner.”
