0002

Asher’s Pov

There were exactly three things I needed this semester.

Win the National Academy Hockey Championship.

Keep my grades high enough to satisfy my father.

Survive my final year at Silvercrest Academy without giving the gossip-hungry students another reason to stick their noses into my life.

None of those goals included sharing my private suite with a stranger.

Yet somehow, that was exactly where my day had ended.

I stood in the middle of the living room with my arms folded while Rowan Hayes quietly wheeled her suitcase inside. She looked around the suite with open curiosity, completely unaware that she had just destroyed the peaceful routine I had spent three years building.

The door clicked shut behind her. Neither of us spoke.

I watched as she walked toward the large windows overlooking the hockey arena, her eyes lighting up the moment she saw the rink below. A smile spread across her face so naturally that, for a brief second, she looked like a little kid who had just walked into a toy store.

Then she caught me watching her. The smile disappeared instantly.

“So…” she said awkwardly. “Nice room.”

“It was.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“It was a nice room.”

I walked past her and dropped my hockey bag beside the couch.

“Before they decided to put another person in it.”

She sighed dramatically. “You really know how to make someone feel welcome.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

She stared at me for a long moment before shaking her head.

“You know, most people would at least pretend to be polite.”

“Most people weren’t forced to share their room without being asked.”

“I wasn’t exactly consulted either.”

That made me pause. She wasn’t wrong. Neither of us had chosen this. Still, that didn’t mean I had to like it.

I rubbed the back of my neck and pointed toward the hallway.

“There are two bedrooms. Take the one on the left.”

She smiled.

“See? You can be nice.”

“I said you could use the room. I didn’t say I was nice.”

She laughed, actually laughed. Not the nervous laugh people usually gave me because they didn’t know what else to do.

A real one.

It was strangely… refreshing.

I immediately ignored that thought.

Rowan disappeared into her room while I unpacked the last of my equipment. Every hockey stick was lined up in the same order. My skates sat beneath the bench near the entrance, freshly sharpened after summer training. My jerseys hung neatly inside the closet.

Everything had its place.

Organization kept my mind clear.

Chaos lost championships.

A few minutes later, Rowan returned carrying a small stack of books.

She stopped when she noticed me arranging my gear.

“You organize your equipment by size?”

“And weight.”

She stared at me. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

She picked up one of my practice pucks and turned it over in her hand.

“I think this is the most terrifying thing I’ve seen today.”

I held out my hand.

“Puck.”

She smiled innocently. “What puck?”

“The one you’re holding.”

“Oh, this one?”

She tossed it lightly into the air before catching it again.

“I was just borrowing it.”

“You’ve known me for less than ten minutes.”

“And?”

“And you’re already touching my equipment.”

“I gave it back.”

“After dropping it.”

“I caught it.”

I sighed. “This isn’t going to work.”

She leaned against the kitchen counter and folded her arms.

“Then maybe we should set some ground rules.”

“I already planned to.”

I grabbed a notebook from the dining table and flipped to a blank page.

She raised an eyebrow.

“You actually wrote them down?”

“I like being prepared.”

“I noticed.”

I uncapped a pen. “Rule number one. Stay out of my bedroom.”

She nodded.

“Fair.”

“Rule number two. Don’t touch my hockey equipment.”

“I touched one puck.”

“You touched my puck.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Fine.”

“Rule number three. No visitors without telling me first.”

“Okay.”

“Rule number four. Don’t interrupt my training schedule.”

She tilted her head.

“That’s it?”

“That’s enough.”

She took the notebook from my hand before I could stop her.

“What are you doing?”

“My turn.”

Without asking permission, she scribbled beneath my list.

When she handed the notebook back, I looked down.

Rowan’s Rules

Rule One: Stop acting like you own the entire academy.

I frowned. “I don’t.”

She gave me a look that clearly said otherwise.

I continued reading.

Rule Two: Learn how to smile at least once a day.

I looked up.

“I smile.”

“I’ve been here half an hour.”

“And?”

“You haven’t smiled.”

“I was smiling internally.”

She burst into laughter.

“I’m sure you were.”

I ignored the comment and read the last rule.

Rule Three: If we’re roommates, you have to learn my name. Stop calling me ‘roommate’ or ‘new guy.’ My name is Rowan.

I closed the notebook.

“I’m not agreeing to these.”

“I didn’t agree with yours either.”

“You literally said they were fair.”

“They are.”

“And yours aren’t?”

“They’re suggestions.”

“They’re demands.”

“They’re friendly demands.”

I couldn’t believe this girl. Most students became nervous the moment they learned who I was.

Some even apologized for things that weren’t their fault.

Rowan didn’t seem impressed by my title at all.

If anything, she looked amused by it.

“You know I’m the captain of the hockey team.”

She shrugged.

“I know.”

“I’m also the future Alpha.”

“I know that too.”

“You don’t seem to care.”

She met my eyes without the slightest hesitation.

“Should I?”

For a moment, I had no answer.

No one had ever asked me that before. People cared because of who my father was. Because of my rank. Because of what I would become someday.

But Rowan…

She looked at me as if I were just another student. It should have annoyed me.

Instead, it was strangely… normal. Before I could think about it any further, my phone buzzed.

Coach Brooks: Team practice. Thirty minutes. Don’t be late.

I slipped the phone back into my pocket.

“I have practice.”

“I figured.”

I grabbed my hockey bag. “You can unpack while I’m gone.”

She nodded.

“I’ll try not to rearrange your perfectly organized life.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“I make no promises.”

I shook my head and walked toward the door. Just before leaving, I glanced back.

Rowan had wandered over to the large window again, completely mesmerized by the sight of the ice rink below. She rested one hand against the glass, her expression soft with quiet admiration.

It wasn’t the look of someone impressed by the academy.

It was the look of someone deeply in love with hockey.

I had seen that expression before.

It was the same one I wore every time I stepped onto the ice.

********************

Practice ended later than usual.

Coach kept us running drills until my legs felt like they might give out, but even after two exhausting hours, I wasn’t ready to go back to the suite.

I skated alone for another twenty minutes before finally leaving the rink.

As I crossed the outdoor practice area, movement on the smaller training rink caught my attention.

Someone was skating.

At this hour?

The lights reflected off the ice as a lone figure darted across the surface with incredible speed.

I recognized the dark hoodie almost immediately.

Rowan.

She moved with effortless balance, weaving between practice cones as though she’d been training here for years. Her edge control was almost flawless, and every turn looked smooth enough to belong to one of our senior players.

Then she picked up a loose puck.

Without slowing down, she flicked her stick.

The puck sailed across the rink and struck the top corner of the empty goal with a sharp metallic clang.

A perfect shot.

I stared at the net for several seconds before looking back at Rowan.

First-year students weren’t supposed to skate like that.

Especially not someone who had never trained with Silvercrest before.

She lowered her stick and smiled to herself, completely unaware that someone had been watching.

For the first time since she arrived, a question settled firmly in my mind.

Who are you really, Rowan Hayes?