“Austen,” he breathed.“Don’t.”
I didn’t look at him.I picked up the laptop power cord and coiled it.Loop, tuck, secure.“I’m staying at Maya’s tonight.”
“Please.”He stepped into the room, reaching for me, then stopping short when I took a sharp step back.“Let me explain.”
“There’s no need for an explanation, Luke.”
“It wasn’t real,” he rushed out, the words tumbling over each other.“What I said to them—it wasn’t real.It was Vane.It was my dad.I froze.I needed to get them off my back so I could get out of there.”
“You succeeded.”I zipped the side pocket of the duffel.“You successfully erased me.”
“I didn’t erase you.I—I protected the offer.”He ran a hand through his hair, frantic.“Vane is old school.My dad is… you know how he is.If they thought I was distracted, if they thought I was—”
“Queer?”I supplied.
He flinched.“Complicated.If they thought I was complicated.”
“I am complicated,” I said, finally looking at him.“I am a foster kid with a complex history and a scholarship I can’t afford to lose.I am a male math major dating the male hockey goalie.That is the definition of complicated.”
“I know.And I want that.I want us.”
“No,” I said calmly.“You want theideaof us.In this room.With the door locked and the blinds drawn.You want a constant you can keep on a shelf like a puck.”
I walked over to the desk.The puck was there, sitting on the roster sheet.
I picked it up.
“You looked at me,” I said, voice trembling for the first time.“He called me ‘the roommate,’ and you looked right at me, and you agreed.”
“I panicked!”
“You calculated,” I corrected.“You ran a risk assessment.Weighed the Minnesota contract against me, and I lost.That’s fine.That’s rational.Don’t lie and say it was an accident.”
Luke leaned back against the closed door, looking defeated.“They want me in St.Paul in June.Mid-June.”
The timeline clicked into place.“So, you’re leaving right after the semester ends and never coming back.”
“I have to.It’s the development camp.If I don’t go, I lose the spot.”
“And when were you going to tell me that?”
“Tonight.I was going to tell you tonight.”
“After you introduced me as your roommate?After you let your dad laugh at me?”
He squeezed his eyes shut.“I screwed up.I know I screwed up.But I can fix it.I’ll call Vane tomorrow.I’ll tell my dad to back off.Don’t leave.”
“You’re the one leaving, Luke.”
I held out the puck.The NRU logo caught the overhead light.
He stared at it like it was radioactive.“No.I gave that to you.It’s yours.”
“Article five,” I whispered, my voice trembling for the first time.“Constants keep us honest.”
“Screw the articles.”
“Take it.”I grabbed his hand—his clammy, shaking hand—and forced the hard rubber disk into his palm.Curling his fingers over it, I said, “I’m not your constant anymore.You made sure of that.”
