“Apparently, the school booked us in the same hotel as your conference.”
“Lucky you.I guess I’m not staying here because the system ate my reservation.He says it was canceled,” Austen added, looking back at the clerk.“It’s an error.”
“It’s not an error, it’s a lack of inventory,” the clerk said, not looking up.“Like I said, the airport Hilton might—”
“He’s with me,” I said.
The clerk paused.Austen froze.
“Excuse me?”the clerk asked.
“He’s with the team,” I lied smoothly.“Administrative support.Tutor.He’s supposed to be on the rooming list.”
I pulled out my wallet and slapped my team per diem card on the counter—which wouldn’t help, but it looked official.I looked at the clerk with my bestI stare down ninety miles per hour slapshotsexpression.
“Put him in my room,” I said.“Carter.Room 412.”
The clerk blinked.He looked at the line of hockey players behind me, then at Austen’s desperate face, and decided he didn’t get paid enough to argue.
“I can add him as a guest,” the clerk muttered.“Here’s a key.”
He slid a plastic card across the marble.
I grabbed it and handed it to Austen.His fingers brushed mine—electric.
“Go up,” I said, voice low.“Wait for me.”
“Carter!”Coach Harper’s voice cut through the lobby noise.
I winced.I turned around.
Harper was standing by the elevators, holding her clipboard.“Bag drop in five.Conference Room B in ten.We have tape on Northeastern’s power play.”
Austen looked at me, eyes wide.
“Go,” I whispered to him.“I have to do this.Order room service.I’m starving.”
“Room service,” Austen repeated, clutching the key card.“Okay.”
“Don’t wait up,” I joked, though I desperately hoped he would.
Austen nodded and hurried toward the elevators.I watched him drag his rolling bag behind him, then turned back to the team.
Ryan was watching me, eyebrows raised so high they were practically in his hairline.Javier was leaning on his stick, looking back and forth between me and the empty space where Austen had been.
“So,” Ryan drawled.“Since when does the math department travel with the team?”
“Coincidence,” I said quickly.Too quickly.“Symposium.”
“Right.A symposium.At the exact same hotel where we’re staying.”Ryan smirked.“What are the odds?”
“Don’t start with the math,” I muttered, hoisting my bag higher on my shoulder.“The hotel lost his reservation.He was going to spend the night in the lobby.”
“Tragic,” Ryan said, deadpan.“Let me guess.You, being the benevolent soul you are, offered to help yourroommate.”
“I couldn’t leave him there.I told him he could crash in my room.”
Javier’s eyes went wide.The lightbulb finally flickered on.“Wait.That’s who you’re always texting on the bus?”
