Chapter 2: The Co-Ed Crisis

Gianna's POV 

I stared right into Ryker’s gray eyes, refusing to blink. If I gave him my name, he might look me up. If he looked me up, my cover was dead.

"My name is none of your business," I said, my voice cutting through the space between us. I skated backward, creating a few feet of distance, and unbuttoned my wrist guards. "Keep the ice. It’s clearly the only thing you own around here."

Ryker’s jaw tightened, his knuckles turning white around the grip of his hockey stick. "Watch your mouth, freshman."

I didn't give him the satisfaction of an answer. I skated hard toward the gate, stepped off the ice, and quickly threw my guards into my duffel bag. I could feel his heavy stare burning into my back the entire time. I didn't look back as I pushed through the heavy double doors, exiting the arena into the freezing Vermont morning air.

My hands were shaking. That was way too close.

I walked fast across the snow-covered quad toward the athletic housing office. I needed to get my room assignment, lock my door, and stay out of sight. The campus was beautiful but brutal—huge stone buildings surrounded by gray skies and thick pine trees.

When I walked into the housing office, the room was in absolute chaos. Phones were ringing off the hooks, and five stressed-out staff members were slamming papers onto desks.

I stepped up to the front counter, gripping the strap of my duffel bag. "Hi, I’m Gianna Cole. A transfer student. I'm here for my room key."

The woman behind the desk looked up, her hair a messy bun, dark circles under her eyes. She typed my name into the computer and let out a miserable groan. "Gianna, you're the third one this hour. We have a massive crisis. A water main burst in the freshman female dorms an hour ago. The entire first two floors are flooded."

My chest tightened. "What does that mean for me?"

"It means we are entirely out of single rooms," she said, pulling a plastic keycard from a drawer and sliding it across the counter. "We had to activate emergency co-ed housing in the upper varsity suites. You've been assigned to Suite 4B in the East Wing."

"Co-ed?" I repeated, the word tasting like lead on my tongue. "I can't share a suite with a guy."

"You don't have a choice unless you want to sleep in the snow, honey," the woman snapped, already turning to answer a ringing phone. "Separate bedrooms, shared common area. Next!"

I grabbed the keycard, my stomach twisting into a hard knot. This was supposed to be my clean, quiet escape.

*****

Ten minutes later, I stood in front of the heavy oak door of Suite 4B. I took a deep breath, tapped the plastic keycard against the electronic lock, and watched the small light flash green, until the door clicked open.

The suite was large and minimalist—a small kitchen with a dark granite island and a small gray couch in the center. Two bedroom doors faced each other across a narrow hallway at the back.

I took two steps inside and froze.

A large, black hockey duffel bag was sitting right in the middle of the kitchen floor. Next to it stood a pair of heavy, ice-stained hockey skates.

A shadow moved from the hallway, and a massive frame stepped into the light of the common area. He had a gray towel draped around his neck, and his dark brown hair was damp from a fresh shower. He wasn't wearing a shirt, revealing a broad chest, a solid six-pack, and a dark tattoo sleeve of a storm covering his entire right arm.

Ryker Barrett stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes dropped to my duffel bag, then snapped up to my face.

The dark, dangerous smirk returned to his lips, slower this time.

"Well, well," Ryker murmured, leaning his heavy shoulder against the wall as his eyes tracked down my body. "Look what the storm dragged in. Guess you're my new roommate, sweetheart."