OF ALL THE ROOM IN THE ENTIRE UNI, HE HAD TO BE RIGHT ACROSS THE HALL FROM ME

Chapter 4

Max

Two weeks after the championship, Freya and I still couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Every stolen moment, her dorm, my car, the empty bleachers after practice, was a tangle of kisses and whispers - her touch setting my skin on fire.

I was half-asleep in Professor Gabe’s lecture, doodling basketball plays in my notebook, when my phone buzzed. The email notification stopped my heart.

Congratulations! We are pleased to inform you that your application to Elite Sports University has been accepted...

I read the email three times before it sunk in. Elite Sports University. The ESU. The best athletic program in the country, the place where legends were made, where NBA scouts came hunting for the next big thing.

I'd gotten in.

I let out a whoop of joy right there in the middle of Professor Gabe's lecture, earning confused stares from my coursemates and a sharp look from the professor himself.

"Sorry," I mumbled, but I couldn't stop grinning.

The moment class ended, I called Freya.

"Baby, you're never going to believe this," I said the second she picked up.

"What? You sound like you just won the lottery." Her voice was warm and teasing, the way I loved.

"Better. I got into ESU."

The silence on the other end stretched so long I thought the call had dropped.

"Freya? You there?"

"That's... that's amazing, Max. I'm so proud of you." But her voice sounded weird, strained somehow. "When do you start?"

"Next week. I know it's short notice, but..."

"Next week?" Now she sounded panicked. "That's so soon."

"I know, but this is it, Freya. This is everything I've been working for. Come out with me tonight, let me take you somewhere nice to celebrate."

She agreed, and I spent the rest of the day walking on air. Nothing could bring me down. Not even the weird knot in my stomach that had been there since that night two weeks ago.

......

The morning I was supposed to leave for ESU, I stood in the kitchen saying goodbye to my family. Mom was trying not to cry, which made my throat tight with emotion.

"You call me every day, you hear me?" she said, adjusting my collar for the tenth time. "Every single day."

"I will, Mom. I promise."

I hugged Sofia tight, ignoring her dramatic sighs about me being gross and sweaty. "Take care of Mom and Dad for me, okay?"

"Whatever," she mumbled, but she hugged me back just as hard.

Dad loaded my stuff into the car while I said my final goodbyes. When Freya arrived, she insisted on sitting in the back seat with me instead of up front.

"I'm going to miss you so much," she said, practically climbing into my lap as soon as Dad started driving.

"Freya, my dad can see us in the rearview mirror," I whispered, but she just laughed and kissed me anyway.

The three-hour drive felt both endless and too short. Freya spent most of it kissing my neck and whispering about how much she was going to miss me, while I tried to ignore Dad's disapproving glances in the mirror.

When we finally pulled up to the dormitory, I felt a mix of excitement and terror. This was it. The beginning of everything I'd worked for.

My room was on the third floor, and it took several trips to get all my stuff upstairs. When I opened the door, I was greeted by the sight of my new roommate unpacking his clothes.

He was tall and lean, with perfectly styled hair and clothes that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. Everything about him screamed money and sophistication, from his designer sneakers to the way he moved like he was on a runway.

"You must be Max," he said with a bright smile, extending his hand. "I'm Jordan. Jordan St. Claire."

"Nice to meet you," I said, shaking his hand. His grip was firm but gentle, and he smelled like expensive cologne.

I noticed Dad watching Jordan with narrowed eyes, taking in his perfectly coordinated outfit, the way he gestured with his hands when he talked, the subtle rainbow pin on his backpack.

"Son, can I talk to you for a minute?" Dad said, his voice tight.

We stepped out into the hallway, and Dad immediately launched into it.

"I don't like him," he said bluntly.

"What? Why? You just met him."

Dad looked around to make sure no one could hear us, then leaned closer.

"Because he's gay, Max. Any fool can see that."

I felt my face burn with embarrassment. "Dad, that's..."

"I'm just saying you need to be careful. People like that, they have... agendas. I don't want him getting any ideas about you."

"Dad, Jordan seems like a nice guy. I'm not going to avoid my roommate just because..."

"Just promise me you'll keep your distance, okay? Don't get too friendly with him."

I wanted to argue, wanted to tell him how ignorant he sounded. But this was my dad, and I was already stressed about starting school. The last thing I needed was a fight.

"Fine, Dad. Whatever."

He clapped me on the shoulder, satisfied, and we went back into the room where Freya was chatting with Jordan about his shoes.

After my family left, I spent the rest of the evening unpacking and trying to ignore the awkward tension I'd created with Jordan.

He was actually really cool—funny, smart, and way more sophisticated than anyone I'd ever met. But Dad's words kept echoing in my head.

I was exhausted by the time I finally fell asleep, excited about my first day of classes and training.

I woke up early, eager to make a good impression on my new coaches. I grabbed my workout gear and headed for the door, already running through my schedule in my head.

I pulled open my door and stepped into the hallway, and my entire world came to a screeching halt.

Standing directly across from me, key in hand at his own door, was the last person I ever wanted to see.

Ace Stiles.

Those ice-blue eyes met mine, and for a moment, neither of us moved. He looked just as shocked as I felt, his perfect composure cracking for just a split second before that familiar mask of disgust slid back into place.

His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. His pack tattoo gleamed under the fluorescent lights, dark and jagged, and his sneer was pure venom.

"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, his voice dripping with the same contempt I remembered.

I stood there frozen, my hand still on my doorknob, trying to process this cosmic joke.

Of all the dorms, of all the rooms in the entire uni, he had to be right across the hall from me.