002- RULES

002

RULES

AURORA

"You're the figure skater."

I stare at him. Then I narrow my eyes. "You say that like that's a bad thing."

"Oh, it is," he says dryly. "When she's apparently going to be staying in my room."

Excuse me? I fold my arms across my chest. "Your room?"

He legs out a humorless laugh before dragging both hands through his dark hair in frustration.

“Yesterday, housing told us one of the guys would have to make space for a girl because the girls’ dorms were overbooked.” He points vaguely toward the hallway. “Since mine and Duke’s rooms were the only ones with space, we made a bet.”

I blink.

“A bet?”

“Yeah.” He glares at me like this entire situation is personally my fault. “I didn’t think they’d actually put her in my room.”

Her.

Not even you.

Rude.

“My name is Jayden. I'm the hockey captain,” he adds like that explains everything.

I stare at him blankly. “…Congratulations?”

His jaw tightens.

Okay, maybe mocking the giant hockey player isn’t the smartest survival instinct, but he started it.

He exhales sharply before dropping onto the bed opposite mine. The mattress creaks beneath his weight as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.

For the first time since he walked in, I properly look at him. I've heard about hockey players being ridiculously hot and all. Back home, the guys aren't bad but if there's one thing I've come to realize?

It's that they are certainly a group of obnoxious bunch who think the world revolves around them.

You're an athlete? Who cares? We're all athletes. Just do your thing and get it over with. But no. They want everybody they come across to know what they are.

My guy here is tall enough that his legs stretch ridiculously far beneath the desk beside his bed. Broad shoulders. Strong jawline. Dark hair falling into sharp blue eyes that currently look exhausted and annoyed.

Mostly annoyed.

At me.

“This is insane,” I mutter.

“Glad we agree.”

I shoot him a glare which he ignores.

“If we’re going to do this,” he says, “I have rules.”

I actually laugh. It's a short, disbelieving laugh. I don't think he meant that. We aren't doing this. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

No. He's not. “You can’t just make rules for another human being.” Definitely my point. I want to add that I still have a lot of things to say. Like... it's my room as much as it's his.

“I absolutely can when that human being randomly appears half naked in my room.”

Heat rushes to my face. He's never going to let me live that down, is he? “That wasn’t my fault!”

“Still. It's traumatic."

“Oh my God.”

He points at me lazily. “Rule number one, you don’t touch my stuff. Ever."

Oops. Too late.

“Rule number two. No people over without warning me first.”

I open my mouth. If he sees my opened mouth, he doesn't acknowledge it. He just keeps going.

“Rule number three, If I have early practice, don’t wake me up.”

“You act like I care when you wake up.”

“And rule number four,” he says, ignoring me again, “don’t ask questions about hockey.”

I blink slowly. “What kind of stupid rule is that?”

“The kind I just made.”

I stare at him in disbelief. He stares right back. Oh, he's being serious? This boy is actually insane. It's a good thing I don't care about hockey.

“Well,” I say sweetly, “I have a rule too.”

His eyebrow lifts slightly.

“You have to keep the room tidy.”

His eyes narrow immediately. Then he slowly glances around the room. The folded clothes. The cleared desk. The organized hockey gear.

Realization dawns on his face. “You touched my stuff.”

I smile tightly. “You’re welcome.”

He shuts his eyes like he’s physically pained. “You touched my stuff,” he repeats slowly.

“Oh no,” I deadpan. “I cleaned.”

“You moved everything.”

"Why are you acting like it's a crime? You should be thanking me! Your side of the room looked disgusting.”

His eyes snap open. “My side?”

“Yes. Your side.”

“That’s because I knew where everything was.”

“No, you didn’t. There was a hockey stick under your bed and socks hanging from your lamp.”

He points at me again. “Exactly. Organized.”

I stare at him for a long moment before deciding there’s genuinely no reasoning with this man. He groans and leans back on the bed, rubbing both hands over his face.

“I’ve been practicing all day,” he mutters. “I can’t deal with your brattiness right now.”

My mouth drops open. “Brattiness?”

But he’s already standing again. The giant idiot walks straight past me toward the bathroom. Then stops dead.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

I wince slightly. Okay, maybe reorganizing the bathroom too was a little much.

His toothbrush now sits neatly in a cup beside the sink. His cologne bottles are aligned properly. His shower products are arranged in size order because apparently my brain physically cannot leave things messy.

He turns slowly toward me.

“You touched my stuff,” he says for the third time.

“Again. You're welcome.”

“You don’t touch another person’s bathroom setup." He brushes past me again, and reaches for his phone. I'm right behind him.

He presses the phone to his ear.

“Duke,” he says flatly. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

My stomach drops. “What are you doing?”

He ignores me completely.

“Because housing apparently assigned me a five-foot demon with boundary issues.”

I gasp. “I am not five feet!”

His eyes flick toward me briefly. “Five-two, then.”

“I’m five-four!”

I glare at the side of his head while he listens to whatever his friend is saying on the phone.

Then he sighs.

“Yeah. I’ll be there in ten.”

He hangs up.

“You cannot be serious right now.”

He calmly walks over to his dresser and yanks out a duffel bag.

“I need one night before I lose my sanity.”

“Oh, please,” I scoff. “You’re being dramatic.”

He starts shoving clothes into the bag without answering.

Something twists uncomfortably in my stomach. My fingers curl slightly against my sleeves. He keeps packing. I stare at him for a few seconds before the words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

“Please.”

He pauses briefly but doesn’t turn around.

“I…” My throat tightens embarrassingly. “I can’t sleep alone in the dark.”

His movements stop completely this time. Slowly, he turns toward me.