Page 129 of Arctic Titans of Northwood U: Volume 1

While Beckett was out that night, I did what I had never done before. I texted him privately. It was a simple, non-dramatic “We need to talk.” And he left me on a simple, non-dramatic seen. It was enough to harden my emotions completely. If he could ignore a direct text message, he had no intentions of talking about this. What kind of asshole just shoved their tongue down your throat, then ran away without a word? I didn’t know. But I wasn’t going to be bothered by it too much. I missed out on a potential date tonight, but I wouldn’t dwell on it.

We were going to Milwaukee on Monday. We were staying for three nights at Harbor Lights Inn, a small, family-run waterfront hotel with just enough rooms to host a hockey team. We were playing a friendly game against the Milwaukee Icehawks on our second night and staying for a late training session on our third day. It sounded like an excellent opportunity to see some fresh faces that weren’t from Northwood’s campus. I said so to Sawyer when we arrived at the hotel. It was just as promised, positioned in a picturesque lane of hotels with a view of the harbor. Orange trees were visible in the distance and cold air rose from Lake Michigan. It was already late afternoon when we got there, but the check-in process still took ages. Sawyer and I used the opportunity to grab a pumpkin-spiced latte at the café down the street while waiting for our rooms to be ready.

I specifically avoided talking about Beckett in our meandering conversation. No matter how much I reminded myself I didn’t care, he was persistently on my mind. Even when Sawyer and I talked less and focused on our screens more, Beckett kept popping into my mind. I opened a hookup app to discover a dozen messages from guys near me. Three of them looked like athletes. Hell, they looked like hockey players, if I was being exact. I wouldn’t have called that my type, but interest zinged in my chest anyway.

I made a mental note to strike up some conversation with them later. In a new place, possibilities were limitless.

Sawyer excused himself after some time. “Sorry, I should…erm…get going. Noah’s got…space facts to share.” And so my friend left to undoubtedly have phone sex while I finished my coffee. I returned to the inn. It was a light blue structure, three stories high, with plenty of windows dotted along each floor. The maple tree in front of it turned golden brown and flaming orange like all the other trees down the street. The receptionist was a girl no older than sixteen, probably helping her parents in the afternoons. She gave me a keycard to room 204 and I dragged my suitcase up two flights of stairs until I found the right door.

I pressed the keycard against the electronic reader and waited for the tiny green light to flash before I pushed the door in.

“Jesus. Fuck!”

My blood froze in my veins. My jaw dislodged itself as I gaped.

Topless and wet-haired, Beckett was covering his crotch with a large towel. He stood on the other side of the room by the balcony door. Behind him, white curtains were framed with deep brown drapes that complimented the light brown wallpapers. Beckett wore nothing but a scowl.

“The fuck are you doing in my room?” I muttered. I shoved my suitcase up against the wall and examined the space. A wine carpet with a punch pattern covered one part of the dark brown hardwood floor. An armchair was set against the wall to my left and a small table was next to it. Another armchair stood on the other side of the table. To my right was a very large dresser and on the other end of the room was a spacious closet. Beckett’s suitcase blocked the closet door. In the middle of it all was a large bed. A huge bed. A bed so large that two people could comfortably share it.

“Oh no,” Beckett squeezed through his gritting teeth.

“No, no, no,” I echoed. “Oh, hell no.”

“This can’t be real,” he snapped and tied the towel around his waist while I methodically inspected everything but his figure. I was fuming; I didn’t need to drool, too.

“What are you doing?” I demanded when Beckett made two big steps toward me and the door.

“I’m breaking all hell loose. Why the fuck are you just standing there?” he asked.

“You’re not going down there in a towel, for fuck’s sake.” My mind was sharp enough to remember that there was a young girl at the reception desk. Beckett’s rashness wasn’t going to help anyone. “I’ll take care of it.” I turned away from him and went for the door. “Put something on, dammit.” I marched to the reception desk, trying to keep my temper down. This was shaping up to be a horrible situation for everyone involved. Especially me.

There was nobody at the reception desk, so I dinged the bell. I would have thought it was cute to ring the bell like they did in the movies, except there was an insufferable asshole in my room and my patience was thin.

A kindly-looking woman with auburn hair pulled into a motherly bun walked out of a small room behind the reception desk. “How can I help you?”

“Yes, hi. Hello.” Shut up. Get to the point. I inhaled and calmed down. “I think there was a mixup. I have room two-oh-four, but you already put Beckett Partridge in there.”

The woman, Bridgette, according to the nametag, nodded curtly. She opened a notebook and I couldn’t see what she was checking. Still, her sigh was enough to make my heart drop. “I see. Yes, I called about this on Saturday, and, ah, Mr. Murray said there were no issues. See, dear, we had a pipe leak above the room that was originally booked. Both rooms are undergoing repairs.”

“Uh-huh, okay, but do you have any other room available?” I asked.

Bridgette lifted her eyebrows like I was asking her where to park my spaceship.

“At least a room with separate beds,” I said, sounding much more desperate than I meant to. “I can’t…share my bed with Beckett. Not with Beckett, please.”

“I’m so sorry, but it’s October. All of our rooms are occupied. It’s fortunate that we could spare the one you got. It’s our suite.” She said that last part like I was supposed to appreciate it.

I opened my mouth, but I was too stunned to say anything. I nodded. “It’s a suite,” I echoed quietly. “A suite I have to share with Partridge.”

“I really am sorry about the inconvenience,” Bridgette said, but her tone was skeptical. She sounded not too pleased with how ungrateful I was at the suite. “There is nothing we can do about this.” When I didn’t leave — and I was too shocked to move just now — she cocked her head. “You’re here with your team. You could ask a teammate to swap, but we don’t have any other rooms.”

I nodded, realizing it was my time to get the fuck away before she called the cops on me. I looked deranged, no doubt. I thanked her as politely as possible, then returned to my room to find Beckett. He was still topless, but he swapped his towel for a pair of sweatpants. He was tinkering with the radiator. “It’s boiling in here,” he complained when I walked in.

“It shouldn’t bother you,” I said. “You need to go and find someone to swap rooms with you.”

Beckett straightened. I hated him for being shirtless right now. “What are you talking about? This is my room.”

“Actually, it’s our room.” I told him about the leaking pipe and the solution Bridgette offered.