Weak Side : A Fake Dating Hockey Romance (Bexley U)
Weak Side : Chapter 7

Things weren’t off to a good start.

It all started with her snarky little comments and the way the room smelled girlish and soft. Claire and I were on completely different wavelengths. I went to bed early, and she didn’t. Each morning, since freshman year, I ran the school quad before coming back, showering, and getting ready for classes and practice. She was the opposite. She stayed up entirely too late, creeping back into our room after midnight with her freshly showered self, and sat at her desk to study or whatever the hell she was doing, and cursed me with her sleepy voice when my alarm would go off at 4:30 a.m.

The sun had just barely begun to peak as I banged my open palm against our door. Sweat trickled down my back, and I knew Claire was going to be irritated with me. Not that it mattered. She was gone most of the time anyway, probably avoiding the awkward situation we found ourselves in. “Bryant,” I bellowed. “Open the door.”

“Use your key!” she rasped, half-yelling. A few doors had opened down the hall, and each guy glared at me as they shuffled down the hall with their morning wood. A few others were already up and at ‘em because the one thing about athletes? We liked our regimen. When we were on, we were on. Athletes were dedicated. Most of us were, at least. Landon wasn’t a fan of being up early. Morning conditioning made him grumble under his breath as he chugged an energy drink before crumpling the can and throwing on his skates.

“I forgot my key. Open up.” I leaned my head against the door and banged my hand several more times before the door finally flew open, and Claire stood back in not nearly enough clothing with the tiniest little scowl on her face.

“I’ve had it, Theo! This isn’t going to work.”

I pushed her aside and shut the door, annoyed that guys were still trying to catch a glimpse of her. The rumors were running rampant around campus, and every time I proved the rumor wrong, a puck bunny would pop up like Whack-A-Mole, ready to spread their legs for me. So far, none have snuck back into my room to lie naked in my bed. And to my surprise, Claire hadn’t walked in on me getting a favor yet, either. It would probably only make her hate me more.

Because she did hate me.

It seemed like it, anyway. She avoided me, but that was fine.

“This was the first time I’ve forgotten my key. Relax.” I pulled my sweaty shirt over my head and wiped my neck with it, sneaking a glance at her.

She quickly averted her eyes from my bare chest and stomped her foot. “Some of us like to sleep!” Her bare legs snagged my attention for a brief second. They were toned and smooth, with the remnants of a summer glow on them. I understood the attention she got from the other guys on the floor. I did. I just wasn’t as weak as them. My priorities were straight. Theirs were not.

The question popped up out of nowhere as I ignored her hissy fit. “Why are you in the athletic dorms?” I turned to face her, and her lips were set in a straight line. I didn’t hide my attempt to check her out, running my eyes down her slender frame, trying to figure out what sport she played. The only students in Dorothy Hall were athletes. I snapped my fingers, and she looked at me like she was seconds from ripping my head off. “Volleyball?” I took my finger and spun it in the air. “Turn around. Let me see.”

A bubble of excitement started to creep up my throat when the apples of her cheeks turned pink. “Excuse me?”

I furrowed my brow. “Volleyball players have a pretty decent ass. Let me see.”

Her jaw dropped, and I threw my head back and laughed. “I’m kidding, Bryant. Will you lighten up?” I snapped my fingers again, the relaxation halting for a second. “I’ve got it. You’re a dancer, I bet. And not the cheerleading type of dancer. You’re in…ballet?”

The sun began to shine through the window as the words left my mouth, and there was a slight glimmer that put her in the spotlight. Her sleepy eyes narrowed, and I grinned. “I’m right, aren’t I? That makes sense.”

“Why does that make sense?”

“Because you’re so uptight.” I smirked before grabbing my towel and body wash. Her eyes followed my every move, and I could tell she wanted to snap a snarky response back to me. “Tell me, does your boyfriend ever do anything other than dismiss you every chance he gets? Like, does he ever get you off? I’ve always heard dancers are hard to please. Is that true?”

There was a voice deep inside my head that was telling me to retreat, but the look on her face egged me on like no other. Her cheeks flared even brighter, and her perky breasts under her shirt were rising and falling quicker than before. I was blaming it on our lack of conversation during our first full week of rooming together and how we had all this built-up tension from pissing each other off. And admittedly, I enjoyed picking on her. It fed me like I was a starving animal. It was like payback for each night that she woke me up with her feminine body wash and the sound of her even breathing when she finally drifted into a peaceful sleep after sitting at her desk for what seemed like hours.

“Of course he does!” she snarked, looking away at the last second.

My head tilted on its own as I tried to read her. Her arms flew to her chest like armor, and I paused. “Does he, though?”

“It’s none of your business. What gives you the right to even ask such a thing? Typical jock.” She threw her hands up as she walked over to her dresser and pulled out a pair of leggings. Oh, she is mad. Did I strike a nerve?

Her hands went to the hem of her shirt, and she began to pull it up, showing off her toned belly.

“Whoa, what the fuck are you doing?” I asked, stunned. I spun around and put my back to her.

“Well, since I’m up because of you, I’m going to go work on my audition now instead of after work.”

So, she is a dancer. “If you think your boyfriend is jealous now, wait until he replaces out that you’re undressing in front of me.”

Silence stretched around us, and I knew what was going through her mind. Little Miss Night Owl now knew that I wasn’t asleep like she thought I was when her douche of a boyfriend would call her late at night. What was he even doing up that late anyway? Was I the only college student that enjoyed sleep? I mean, there was a time and place for staying up late and partying. During the week wasn’t one of them—not for athletes anyway. We were tired, man.

The tenseness in the room had lessened after a few seconds of my back being turned to her. I could hear her shuffling around, and a part of me began to feel bad that I had pushed her too far. Despite our rare interactions, I’ve actually concluded a good bit about my roommate from coincidental eavesdropping. Come on, it wasn’t like she was overly quiet while on the phone. But Claire didn’t enjoy conflict. That much was made apparent. In a battle, I was certain she would be the first to throw the white flag. She did it every time she and her boyfriend were on the phone. I couldn’t hear what he had said to her, but my imagination didn’t need to work too hard.

The dude was insecure as fuck and pretty damn possessive for a guy that didn’t want his girlfriend to live with him.

I slowly turned around and saw that she was fully dressed now—well, as dressed as she was going to get. Her black leggings clung to her ass like a second skin, and the sports bra she had on showed entirely too much of her belly, but she quickly threw on a jacket and began putting her unbrushed, wavy hair into a bun.

“You never answered me, you know.”

She sighed loudly, as if I didn’t know that she was annoyed. “What are you talking about?”

“How long have you and your boyfriend been together?”

I stood by the door with my towel and body wash trapped in my tight grasp as I waited for her answer. Curiosity got the best of me. I mean, we did live with each other, and I was certain she knew more about me than I did her. I was the center of a lot of conversations. The closer it got to our first game, the more my name was shuffled around campus like I was body-surfing the crowds.

“Four years.” Her eyes softened around the edges when she answered me, and I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Four years. Fuck. That was about three years and eleven months longer than any relationship I’d ever been in. I’d never been fully invested in long-term relationships or envious of my friends who had the security of a girl to take to prom or follow throughout college. My priorities were narrower than that—stellar student, loving son, good brother, and model hockey player. My ambitions revolved around the NHL, and that wasn’t because I wanted the fame that came with it. My need for hockey went much deeper than that, and if I could make my family proud and support them in the way that they supported me, I would know I had succeeded. But still, I couldn’t get her answer out of my head for the rest of the day.

“How’s the roomie?” Aasher tapped me on the shoulder with his stick as we skated around the rink, wasting time until practice started.

I flung the puck back and forth as I picked up speed. “Honestly, I don’t see her much, so it’s been fine.”

“What does she sleep in?” I stopped abruptly and glared at Landon.

“I don’t know.” I began skating faster and harder, clearly agitated. Of course I knew what she slept in. Her bare leg was usually peeking out from the covers each morning when I woke to run, but I didn’t see why it mattered.

“I heard she sleeps naked.”

My stick was out a moment later to knock him down, but Landon being Landon, missed it at the last second and threw his head back and laughed. “That’s the newest piece of gossip on the floor.”

I rolled my eyes. “Explains why every guy was loitering outside my door this morning. She doesn’t sleep naked, and even if she did, it’s not my business.”

“You cannot honestly tell me that you don’t replace her attractive.” Aasher raised his brow, calling me on my bluff.

I shrugged, meeting at center ice for practice as everyone gathered. “Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter.”

Our helmets were on, and we lingered as we waited for Coach to get on the ice to begin calling drills. There was a grunt from Emory as he joined in on the conversation that just about every one of my teammates was checked into. I was captain, so even if they didn’t want to admit it, they all gravitated toward me. “Could you imagine fucking your roomie and then her walking in on the many favors you receive before games? Yikes. You can’t live with someone you fuck unless you’re together-together. You know?”

A low grumble shot from the back. “She could be the one giving all the favors.”

My teeth slammed together at the same time my stick split against the ice. “For fuck’s sake. I’m thankful she’s my roommate and none of yours. Do any of you know how to keep your head on straight when there is a female involved?”

There was a slap against my shoulder pad. “And this is why you’re team captain.” Coach shook his head as he stood beside me. “You should take the advice of Wolf. Trust me when I tell you that all it takes is one good woman to bring you to your knees and change the complete direction of your future.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Coach.”

My gaze lingered on Jett and the way his mouth curved. He was a big, burly guy who played defense and had been with his current girlfriend since freshman year of high school. She came to every single game and wore a jersey that had his last name plastered on the backside. There was no doubt that Jett was happy with his decision to settle down so soon with a girl, but it wasn’t always that easy, and I’d seen enough heartbreaks to make me shy away from the entire thing.

“Yeah, let’s all be like Wolf. He has a line of girls outside the locker room after every practice, willing to massage his sore muscles, and then they’re on their merry way because they all know that Wolf doesn’t date.”

Mostly everyone laughed. I didn’t deny it because it was true.

Coach blew his whistle. “Alright, alright, boys. Back to work. Line up at the blue line, and let’s go.”