The Roommate

"You’re going to sit there all night?"

Riley flinched. Jax’s voice was too close, vibrating through the thin bathroom door. She was still sitting on the edge of the tub, the water running hot and wasting away into the drain. "I’m busy," she called out. Her voice felt raspy, a forced low growl she had practiced in the shower for weeks.

"Busy doing what? Drowning?"

She heard the heavy thud of his boots hitting the floor. Then the springs of his bed groaned. He was settling in.

Riley looked at the lock on the door. It was a cheap, plastic twist-knob. One good shove and it would snap. She looked at the binder beneath her shirt. It was damp with sweat, itching against her skin. She needed to breathe. She needed to take it off, but the thought of being exposed in a room with a man who already looked at her like she was a bug under a microscope made her stomach turn.

She reached over and turned the shower handle harder. The pipes rattled.

"Woods!"

"What?" she snapped.

"The pipes are shaking the whole damn wall. Wrap it up."

She didn't answer. She stood up and pulled her shirt off, then the binder. The relief was a physical ache. Her lungs expanded, finally taking in a full gulp of air. She leaned her forehead against the cool tile. Her chest felt bruised.

She showered fast. No soaping up for twenty minutes. Just a scrub to get the ice-grime off and a frantic dry-down with a towel that felt like sandpaper. She pulled on a fresh binder and a baggy gray hoodie before she even opened the door.

When she stepped back into the room, the air was thick. Jax was lying on his back, a playbook held above his face. He didn't look at her, but she felt his attention shift.

"Took you long enough," he said. He tossed the playbook onto the floor and sat up.

Riley didn't look at him. She went straight to her bag and started digging for her phone. "The water was cold."

"Everything is a complaint with you." Jax stood up. He wasn't wearing a shirt. He didn't seem to care. He walked past her to the mini-fridge and grabbed a Gatorade. "You used to be quieter. More focused. Now you’re just... twitchy."

"Maybe I just realized I don't like you," Riley said. She sat on her bed. The mattress was thin and smelled like old dust.

Jax took a long drink, his throat moving as he swallowed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You never liked me. That’s not news. But you used to have talent. Today on the ice? You looked like you were learning how to skate for the first time."

"I was tired."

"We’re all tired, Woods. It’s preseason. If you can’t handle the first day, you’re not going to survive the first month." He stepped closer, looming over the foot of her bed. "The Captain is already asking questions."

Riley’s heart skipped. "What questions?"

"He wants to know why his star recruit is playing like he’s got a stick up his ass. He thinks you’re injured." Jax leaned down, his eyes scanning her face. "Are you? Because if you’re hiding a tear or a break, and you screw up a play because of it, I’ll be the one to bench you myself."

"I'm not injured."

"Then get your head in the game."

Jax turned and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Riley let out a breath and fell back onto the pillow. The ceiling was cracked. A long, jagged line ran from one corner to the light fixture. It looked like a map to nowhere.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Ryan: You dead yet?

She typed back with trembling fingers.

Riley: Almost. Jax is a psycho.

Ryan: Tell him to shove it. He’s all talk.

Riley: He’s not. He’s staring at me like he wants to peel my skin off. And he says the Captain is suspicious.

There was no reply for a long time. The shower started in the bathroom. The sound of the water was a dull roar. Riley closed her eyes, trying to imagine she was back in her bedroom at home, with her long hair and her quiet life.

Her phone buzzed again.

Ryan: Just don't let them see you. And don't talk to Sarah. She's been asking where you are.

Riley stared at the name. Sarah. Her roommate. The one she’d caught her boyfriend with. The reason she had been so willing to run away to this frozen hellscape in the first place.

She didn't reply. She turned the phone off and shoved it under her pillow.

The bathroom door opened. Jax walked out, a cloud of steam following him. He was wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung grey sweatpants. He didn't even look at her as he climbed into his bed and clicked off the lamp on his side.

The room went dark.

Riley lay there, staring at the shadows. Every sound was magnified. The hum of the fridge. The distant sound of a car alarm in the parking lot. Jax’s breathing.

It was slow. Steady.

"Woods?"

His voice was a low rumble in the dark. It made the hair on her arms stand up.

"What?" she whispered.

"If you snore, I’m throwing you out the window."

"I don't snore."

"We’ll see."

Riley turned onto her side, facing the wall. She clutched the blanket to her chin. She was exhausted, her body screaming for sleep, but her mind was a riot. She was in a room with the enemy. She was wearing a dead man's name.

And she still had a long way to go.

"Up. Now."

A heavy weight hit Riley’s stomach. She gasped, her eyes flying open. A hockey bag was sitting on her gut. Jax was standing over her, already fully dressed in his team gear.

"I have five more minutes," Riley groaned, trying to push the bag off. It felt like it was filled with lead.

"You have zero minutes. Coach moved the scrimmage up. If we aren't in the tunnel in ten, we're doing suicides."

Riley rolled out of bed, her knees hitting the floor with a painful thud. Her body was a roadmap of aches from the day before. "Go ahead. I'll catch up."

"And let you skip the warm-up? No way. I’m not getting chewed out because my roommate is a lazy piece of—"

"I'm moving!" she snapped.

She grabbed a clean pair of boxers and her compression shirt, dashing into the bathroom. She didn't look in the mirror. She didn't want to see the dark circles under her eyes. She dressed in record time, pulling the jersey over her head and checking the binder's edge.

When she stepped out, Jax was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed. He watched her. Just watched.

"What?" she asked, grabbing her skates.

"Nothing. You just look... smaller."

"I told you, I lost weight."

"Yeah, you said that." He didn't sound convinced.

They walked to the rink in silence. The morning air was sharp, biting at the back of her neck where her hair used to be. Every time her shoulder brushed against Jax’s, she felt a jolt of electricity—the bad kind. The kind that warned you a storm was coming.

The locker room was a mess of loud voices and the smell of stale coffee.

"Woods! Over here!"

It was Beckett. The Eagles captain. He was standing near the equipment manager’s desk, looking far too bright for six in the morning. Riley felt her stomach drop.

"Beckett's here early," Jax muttered. "Go talk to your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Whatever. He’s looking for you." Jax shoulder-checked her as he walked toward his own locker.

Riley forced her feet to move toward Beckett. She kept her head down, tugging at the collar of her jersey. "Hey."

"Ryan." Beckett grinned, but it was the same guarded look from yesterday. "I wanted to catch you before the skate. You didn't answer my texts."

"Phone died."

"Right." Beckett stepped closer, dropping his voice. "Look, man... is everything okay? You seem... off. You’re quiet. You’re avoiding everyone. If something happened over the summer..."

"Nothing happened, Beckett. I’m just focused."

"Focused? You didn't even come to the lake house in July. You vanished. And now you’re here, playing for the Falcons? With Jax? You hate Jax."

Riley looked up, meeting his eyes for the first time. She saw the concern there, and it hurt. "People change, Beck. I needed a change."

Beckett started to reach out, maybe to pat her shoulder, but he stopped himself. "If you need to talk... I'm still around. Even if you're wearing that ugly jersey."

"Thanks."

"Woods! On the ice! Now!" Coach's voice boomed through the room.

Riley didn't look back. She practically ran for the ice.

The scrimmage was brutal. It wasn't just a game; it was a battle. Every time she got the puck, someone was there to take her head off. And usually, it was Jax.

He slammed her into the boards so hard her teeth rattled.

"Keep your head up!" he shouted in her ear.

She pushed him back, her gloves hitting his chest. "I had the pass!"

"You had nothing! You were looking at the floor!"

They squared up, helmets pressing against each other. The heat coming off Jax was intense. She could see his eyes through the cage—dark, angry, and confused.

"What is your problem?" she hissed.

"You're my problem! You’re playing like you're afraid to get hit! This is hockey, not ballet!"

He shoved her, and she stumbled back, her skates catching on a rut. She didn't fall, but she felt the sting of humiliation. The whole team was watching. Beckett was watching from the sidelines.

"Do it again," Jax challenged, his stick held low. "Try to get past me."

Riley didn't think. She just moved. She charged him, using her lower center of gravity to weave around his reach. She felt the wind as he swung, a near-miss. She drove toward the net and fired.

The puck screamed past the goalie's ear and hit the back of the net.

She didn't celebrate. She just skated back toward the bench, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Nice shot, Woods," Miller called out, tapping his stick on the ice.

Jax didn't say anything. He just stood in the defensive zone, watching her.

By the time they got back to the dorm, Riley was done. She dropped her bag and collapsed onto her bed, not even botherng to take off her shoes.

"Get up," Jax said.

"No."

"I'm serious. We have to go to the dining hall. Mandatory team dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

Jax walked over and grabbed her by the ankle, yanking her toward the foot of the bed. "I’m not doing this with you. You’re my roommate. If you don't show up, I'm the one who has to explain why."

"Tell them I died!"

"I'll tell them you're a coward."

Riley sat up, her hair standing in every direction. "I am not a coward."

"Prove it then. Get up, put on a clean shirt, and let's go."

He stood there, waiting. He didn't move until she finally stood up.

The dining hall was loud, filled with athletes from every sport. They found the hockey table in the back. Riley sat as far away from the center as possible, picking at a plate of cold pasta.

"So, Woodsy," one of the seniors said, leaning across the table. "Heard you and Jax were getting cozy in the room."

The table erupted in laughter.

Riley felt the heat climb her neck. "We're fine."

"Fine?" Jax smirked, leaning back in his chair. "He spends more time in the bathroom than a teenage girl. I think he’s hiding a secret."

The air in Riley’s lungs vanished. She looked at Jax. He was looking at her, his eyes narrowed, a predator waiting for a slip-up.

"I just like my privacy," she said, her voice steady despite the roar in her ears.

"Privacy?" Jax leaned in, his voice dropping. "In a hockey dorm? That’s a good one. What’s the matter, Ryan? Afraid we'll see your birthmark?"

"Leave him alone, Jax," Miller said, though he was grinning.

"I'm just curious," Jax said. "Because I’ve never seen a guy so afraid of a locker room shower. It’s almost like you’re not who you say you are."

Riley stood up, her chair screeching against the tile floor. "I’m done."

She walked out without looking back. She didn't stop until she was outside, the cold night air hitting her face. She leaned against a brick wall, trying to breathe.

"Woods!"

It was Jax. He had followed her. He was walking toward her, his face a mask of frustration.

"Go away, Jax."

"Not until you tell me what the hell is going on. You’ve been acting like a freak since the moment you got here. You aren't Ryan. I’ve played against Ryan for three years. He’s an asshole, but he’s a loud asshole. You? You’re a ghost."

"I told you, I changed!"

"Liar." He stepped into her space, pinning her against the wall. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. "Tell me the truth. Why are you here?"

"I'm here to play!"

"Then why do you look like you’re about to break every time I look at you?"

He reached out, his hand hovering near her face. Riley didn't move. She couldn't move. The world was shrinking down to just the two of them and the dark space between them.

"Jax..." she whispered.

He didn't pull away. He looked at her eyes, his brow furrowed. "Who the hell are you?"

Before she could answer, a voice cut through the dark.

"Jax? Is everything okay?"

It was the Coach. He was walking toward them from the parking lot.

Jax stepped back instantly, his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, Coach. Just... clearing the air."

"Get back to the dorms. Both of you. Curfew is in twenty."

Riley didn't wait. She bolted for the room. She didn't look back to see if Jax was following. She just needed to be behind a locked door.