But as we started walking toward the parking lot, our arms brushing by accident, our ringless hands swinging too close, the same thought hammered in my head so loudly it practically echoed:
What have we done?
CHAPTER 9
LEDGER
The married-athlete housing complex sat on the edge of campus, tucked between the Wilson Center and the intramural fields. It was technically “premium,” which meant it wasn’t falling apart like the upperclassmen dorms, but it wasn’t exactly luxury either.
Roxie stood beside me on the sidewalk, staring up at the brick building like it might collapse on us out of spite.
“This is it?” she asked.
I adjusted the strap of my duffel bag. “Yeah. Building C.”
She blinked. “C for … marriedchaos?”
“C forcan’t-back-out-now,” I muttered.
She elbowed me, lightly, but just enough pressure to sayI heard that, swimmer boy.Then she followed me inside.
The lobby was clean, quiet, and smelled faintly likedetergent. A bulletin board displayed flyers for couples’ cooking nights and volunteer opportunities. I pretended not to see them.
The apartment assigned to us was on the third floor. We took the stairs, and when we reached the door, I unlocked it and stepped inside.
The apartment itself wasn’t bad—small but clean. Updated flooring, new appliances, fresh paint. A tiny living room that fed into a tiny kitchen. A window overlooking the parking lot. Bathroom across from one other door in the short hallway. Everything neat. Simple.
But then my eyes went back to the one door.One.
And then I froze.
Roxie walked right into my back. “Ow—Ledger, move.”
But then she saw where my gaze was fixed. On the single closed door.
Her voice flattened. “Oh.”
Yeah.Oh.
There was only one bedroom.
One.
“Um,” Roxie said. “I thought we were getting a two-bedroom apartment.”
“Me too,” I said.
“But Coach Saunders said?—”
“Shethoughtit’d be a two-bedroom.” I swallowed. “So did I.” I wasn’t sure why I was telling her that again, but I didn’t want her thinking I had done this on purpose.
We both stood there as if we still couldn’t believe what we were seeing.
“It must be because we put in the application late.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “They mentioned how lucky we were to be getting the last unit available.”
She stared at the closed bedroom door like something dangerous waited behind it. “Well. This is … great.”
I stepped farther in, dropping my bag on the couch, if you could call it that. It was more like a loveseat. A very small loveseat.
