CHAPTER 1
DASH
I stopoutside my dorm room and take a deep cleansing breath. In through the nose and out through the—nope, I am going to hurl.
I only have a few minutes. Mom and Dad are waiting downstairs with the rest of my crap, but I have to do this on my own. Why in the name of all that is holy the housing department decided to assign me the captain of the hockey team as a roommate, I will never know. We exchanged a couple emails over the summer, and obviously, I’ve cyberstalked him, but I still can’t get a handle on the guy.
What I know: Gavin West, newly anointed captain of the Green Mountain State University Stags, Division I hockey team (whatever that means). Living in the dorms—in a double—as a junior for some reason (I'm going to guess financial, because what else could there be? He's just dying to share a ten by twelve space with a freshman? I think not.) I know a bunch of stuff about his hockey stats that makes zero sense to me. And I know what he looks like, thanks to the team roster photos. He doesn't seem like a raging homophobe based on his profile shot. But then again, he doesn'tnotseem like one. I'm pretty much navigating in the dark here. He doesn't have a ton of personalsocial media presence, and what there was was kind of all hockey. So, yeah.
That’s all I got.
Oh, and I know that he'sin therebecause I can hear him shuffling around. Okay, enough stalling. I say a prayer to Dionysus, god of theater, rap three times on the door as warning, and then push into the room.
One side is totally empty, one side looks like someone has made themselves at home. But I don't immediately see that someone. My eyes search the space for a jock. There's a mop of unruly brown hair moving around in the corner. After a beat, a face pops up. His eyes land on me, and he smiles.
“Hey! You must be Dash.” Now my roommate is rising to his feet, extending a hand. He's huge, at least compared to me. Then again, most guys are. Broad shoulders, six feet tall. Lean, though. He's wearing a Green Mountain State hockey t-shirt, but other than that, he looks pretty normal.
I shake his hand. “Guilty. Gavin, I presume?”
“Yep.”
…and introductions done. I have no idea what to say next.
I drop the oversized duffel I'm carrying on the unclaimed bed, open it up, and start placing things around. It's mostly clothes, which I put in the dresser, but I've also got some of my tchotchkes in here, padded out by sweaters and such so they wouldn't break.
Gavin blows out a breath. “Hey, yeah, sorry. I hope you don't mind. I just picked a side. I've been here a week, you know, because of the preseason. Anyway, we can switch if you want to. Wouldn't be a problem.”
“No, it's fine,” I say. Which side of the room I'm on is the least of my concerns here.
“You sure?” He drops down to sit on the side of his bed. His legs take up half the room. He pulls them in to let me byas I cross to my closet. “I don't want to be the insensitive jerk roommate who just pulls crap without consulting you.”
He looks genuine. Like, maybe he's actually worried what kind of impressionhe's making onme. I take it as a good sign.
“Seriously,” I tell him, “I don't really have a preference. It's all good.”
“Okay. Good.” He seems to relax.
I sneak a peek over at his side of the room. It's definitely sporty. There's a heap of equipment with what I assume is a hockey stick poking out of it in the corner. Some textbooks on the desk. A photo of a dog. Some hockey posters on the wall. No half-naked women, though. No beer tap in the corner. No Campus Nazis flyers lying about or whatever. I am tentatively willing to consider my roommate situation is not as dire as it could have been.
I return to the bag, pulling out my Ruby Slippers snow globe. This needs a place of honor. Where should I put it? Dresser or desk? Maybe the window sill?
Gavin clears his throat. “So, theater major?”
I freeze. Oh. Okay. Here we go.
I turn to face him. “What gave me away?” I gesture to my skinny jeans and vintage blazer. “The outfit? The general vibe? The Judy Garland collectible?”
He blinks at me, looking abashed. Good.
“Uh, the email? You mentioned it in one of your messages?”
Shit. Right. Heat creeps up my neck. “Oh. Yeah.”
“That sounds cool,” Gavin says, flashing me a smile I don't deserve right now.
“Yeah, I like it.” I give an awkward laugh. “Obviously.”
“You act?”
