“Are you gonna?”
I chew and give Terrence a nod.
“Is that what you’re doing tonight? I bet I’d look good in yoga pants.”
I roll my eyes to hide the fact that Terrence is right. He, like so many hockey players, has a great ass.
“You are not outshining me, bubble butt. I’m going solo.” I eat more sad salad, hoping depressing roughage will distract from the fact I just lied to my roommate.
This will all be funny later…
Chapter
Three
Wind whipsthrough my hair as I ride over to 3dge-m3’s place. It’s a sleepy autumn evening, a few pops of yellow and orange leaves amongst the greenery. If the weather is an omen of what's to come, things won’t be so bad. That’s pure naivety but worth it if it helps me keep the handlebars of my bike straight.
I pull up to a duplex with a cute covered porch it shares with the neighboring unit. After double-checking this is the correct address, I message through the app then lug my bike up the three concrete steps and stow it on the porch. A townie kid messing with my bike is the last thing I need.
The front door opens and is replaced by 3dge-m3’s large frame. What space his shoulders don’t block, his horns fill in. “You find the place okay?”
That confirms it. His voice isn’t as booming as it was back at the rink. It’s still deep, but he’s more casual, soft even.
I nod.
In my panic back at the rink, I hadn’t let myself get a look at his face. His broad nose is black with some grey speckles right in the middle, like freckles. His eyelashes are thick andwhite, drawing attention to his most captivating feature; large soulful brown eyes.
Chris steps back so I can come inside. I notice a stack of boxes by the door. Another step into what should be the livingroom and I find a well-loved leather coach and TV on the floor.
Chris clears his throat. “Sorry, still moving in.”
He shuts the door, averting his eyes.
This is far from the worst living situation I’ve seen, but I have been living on campus the past three years. It’s kind of endearing that he’s embarrassed by his lack of a TV stand. He slips his thumbs into the loops of his jeans.
“So… do you just want to be called Daddy or…?”
I realize I haven’t said a word to him. “We should talk.”
He perks up. “Yeah, of course. Upstairs? The bedroom is more unpacked.”
He makes a move like he’s heading for the stairs.
I panic, “N-no.”
Chris looks at me, his expression hard to read.
“We can talk here. Sit down.”
He pivots to the couch, sitting right where the two middle cushions dip. Then he slides to one side, remembering he has company. I opt to stand, but I’m not exactly towering over him. Chris is eye level with my sternum, and he tilts his chin. The warm light in the room brightens his brown eyes, his shrunk pupils locked on me.
“Chris, I go to Central Lehigh.”
The second I say his name, his jaw goes slack, then tightens like I’ve sprung a trap.
“My roommate is on the hockey team. I know you’re the new coach. I didn’t know that when I messaged you—obviously.”
“I uh—” he clears his throat, curls his chin in and looks down at his lap.
