The words were casual, but his shoulders stayed tight.He flopped down on his bed, picked up a notebook, and started scribbling away.He was leaving space, letting me set the tone.Fine.Tone would be composed.Controlled.
I pulled my phone, thumbed to the contact sheet they’d emailed earlier, and found the number for housing services.I stepped into the hallway for privacy, closing the door enough to muffle my conversation but not enough to feel like retreating.
Four rings.“Northern Ridge Housing, this is Trish.”
“Hi, this is Luke Carter.I checked into Stony Creek Hall, Room 317.I was assigned a single.And I got back from practice to find my room had been invaded along with new furniture.”
A keyboard clacked.“Hmm.One moment.”
I waited, eyes tracing the cinderblock wall, patches of tape peeled where old decorations had come off.Someone down the hall laughed too loud; a door slammed.
Trish came back.“Looks like the database still shows that room as designated for double occupancy because of fall semester overflow.”
“But I was guaranteed a single.My coach guaranteed me a single.I’m on the hockey roster.”I hated how that sounded—name-dropping the program—but eligibility had been the reason they’d rush-processed my housing application.Athletic department had pulled strings; that’s what Coach Harper told me.
“I understand,” Trish said pleasantly.“Unfortunately, we’re beyond full capacity.The new dorm construction is behind schedule, so we converted several singles.”
“Maybe a different dorm?There’s gotta be somewhere on campus.”
“Sorry.Right now, we’re rearranging some rooms for three occupants and even housing a few first-year students in a local hotel until we iron out campus housing.”
“So, what, I just—” I forced my shoulders down.Yelling at staff never helped.“Could you put me on a list?First open single, call me?”
“I’ll add your name to the list,” she said.“Earliest reassessment date is four to six weeks.Until then, university policy is shared space.”
We’d be starting the season by then.Four to six weeks might as well be forever.
“Okay,” I said because the alternative was nothing.“Thanks.”
I slid the phone into my pocket and rested my head against the wall for a count of three.Plan B.Adapt.That’s what goalies do when the play breaks down—square up, track the puck, trust the angle.
Back in the room, Austen hadn’t moved.Still sat cross-legged on his bed, holding the mechanical pencil and writing in his notebook.He looked up, expression neutral.“Any luck?”
“I was put on a list, four to six weeks minimum before housing can do anything about this.”
He nodded as if he’d anticipated this outcome.I exhaled through my nose and rubbed the crease between my eyebrows.
“Look,” he said, without staring up, “I’m not trying to invade your space.This happened fast.”
“Pretty sure it’s happening to both of us.”My tone wasn’t sarcastic, more observational.
“I took the empty closet.”I glanced at his side.Sweatshirts ordered from dark to light, shoes lined under the bed.
The one where I’d been storing my gear bag, which alone could eat half the floor.“I’ll stack my duffel on my desk, for now.”I picked it up and placed on the empty desk on my side of the room.
He tapped the pencil against the notebook twice.“Fair enough.”
A bang erupted from the wall—metallic pipes protesting like they did every evening around this time.Austen flinched.
“AC unit,” I said.“Maintenance hasn’t fixed it.Clanks around two a.m.So, if you’re a light sleeper—”
“Eight hours of partial differential equations tends to induce coma-level sleep.”He shrugged.“I’ll adapt.”
“Math major?”He nodded.I thought of the intro sequence I’d dodged by choosing business.“Sounds intense.”
“Let me guess.Business major?”A flicker of humor—almost a smile—crossed his mouth.
I didn’t love how easily he’d clocked me.“That obvious?”
