My phone rings again and I frown.
“Sorry,” I say as I pull out my phone. It’s Connor. “What’s up?” I answer.
“I will not be coming back to the room tonight.”
“Uh, okay?”
“Just wanted to make sure you knew so you weren’t waiting for me.”
“Where are you?”
“Just… out.”
“You better not be doing something you’re not supposed to.”
“As if I’d put the gold on the line. Pfft. I’m just enjoying my time here. I’ll be at morning skate. Promise.”
“Connor, I swear—”
“I’ll be at morning skate,” he reiterates, then hangs up.
I shake my head as I put my phone into my pocket once again.
“Everything okay?” Nico asks.
“Yeah, apparently Connor is staying somewhere else tonight, so I get the room to myself.”
“Hm, all to yourself?” he asks, and I don’t miss the suggestive tone.
“Apparently.”
“That sounds like heaven. My roommates aren’t much of a bother, but they do talk a lot.”
I nod as I look around and we get hit with an especially cold gust of wind. Nico trembles, huddling closer to himself.
“Do you want to come back to my room?” I ask. His eyes narrow. “Because it’s warm,” I add quickly. “And quiet.”
Nico gets up and stands in front of me, his gaze meeting mine. “You don’t have to convince me,” he says, then sweeps his arm out. “Lead the way. Lord knows I don’t know where I’m going.”
So, I do.
Chapter Twelve
Nico
The foyer, hallways, and elevator all look the same as my building. If someone told me it was mine, I’d believe them—outside of the flags hanging around, of course, but I have been known to be slightly gullible at times. Obviously in my building it’s the Canadian flag. Here it’s USA.
Roman lets us into his room when we get there, and I step inside, looking around.
I assume all the rooms are decorated blandly. We travel light, and most of us aren’t here long enough to care, which is why the only decorations athletes put up are flags. There’s no difference here. The first thing I see is the giant USA flag hanging from the wall across the door, between two windows.
“This is nice,” I say as I look around, noting the two bedrooms—one on either end of the small apartment, the living room and kitchenette combo is the main room that you walk into, with the bathroom off to the left, beside the bedroom.
“Sure,” he says with a slight chuckle, shrugging off his coat and tossing it on the chair by the door. He offers out his hand, and I take mine off to give him. I stare at him for a moment, hoping he plans to take off his sweatshirt too, but no such luck. He’s keeping it on.
“What?” he asks when he catches me staring.
“Nothing,” I say with a sly smirk.
