The Hockey Captain’s Room 309 Bet

Wren’s POV

Father walked back and forth through my room, inspecting it like he was preparing for a military operation.

First, he checked the power outlets first. Then the smoke detector. Then the latch on the window.

He even crouched down beside the bed and ran his hand under it as if he expected to find something suspicious hiding there.

I stood beside my half-unpacked suitcase and watched him impatiently. “Everything is fine, Dad!”

He finally stopped pacing and nodded. “Good to go.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

He nodded once, satisfied.

Apparently, by the time a parent reached their third college child, they developed a very specific routine.

This was his third move-in day. My older brother had gone through this two years ago, and my sister had gone through it before him.

Check the outlets. Test the window. Inspect the mattress. Pretend he wasn’t trying not to cry…

Funny.

My stepmother hovered near the doorway, holding a cardboard box of granola bars.

“You will get hungry soon. I brought you a box of granola bars to eat. There are twelve bars,” she said.

I glanced at the box.

She had gone out of her way to find my favorite kind. Of course she had. She was always doing things like that.

My stepmother was sweet. Almost painfully sweet. She had never treated me badly. If anything, she tried too hard.

And maybe that was part of the problem.

I had never warmed up to her. Not because she wasn’t good enough. But because my mother was.

My mother had been gone for years now. Yet somehow, every time my stepmother tried to step into the space that once belonged to her, something inside me pulled away.

Nobody could take my mother’s place. I didn’t want anyone to. That role was sacred.

So I had kept my distance.

My stepmother seemed to understand that, even if it hurt her.

I nodded awkwardly. “Uhm…thanks, Stacey.”

“We need to get going now. Call us when you’re settled, okay?” father said.

“I will.”

“And if your roommate turns out to be strange-”

“Dad!”

“- call me,” he finishes stubbornly.

I rolled my eyes and laughed.

He gave me a hug. Then Stacey hugged me next. I stiffened for half a second before forcing myself to relax.

“Have fun,” she whispered.

“I will.”

And just like that, they were gone. The door clicked shut and silence settled over Room 309.

I stood there for a moment, staring at it. My room. Well, half of it anyway. The other half was still untouched.

An empty bed. An empty desk. An empty closet. An empty space waiting for a stranger who would soon know more about my life than I probably wanted them to.

Who would be sleeping there? A party girl? A neat freak? Someone who talked in her sleep? Someone who would hate me?

That was probably the most likely possibility. I wasn’t exactly the type of person people fought to room with.

I wasn’t popular. I wasn’t particularly outgoing. I didn’t belong to any sorority. I didn’t play a sport. I wasn’t on student council. I wasn’t one of those people whose faces appeared on campus posters.

But I didn’t mind. Honestly, I liked being invisible. It was easier that way.

I turned back to my things and unpacked slowly.

My sketchbooks went onto the desk first. Then my pencils, arranged in the little wooden container I’d had since high school.

I hung my mother’s old cardigans in the closet, one after another. They were oversized and slightly worn out but I loved them. Whenever I wore one, it felt like carrying a piece of her with me.

Finally, I placed my glasses case perfectly square with the edge of my desk. I stepped back. It wasn’t much. But it was mine.

For the first time since arriving on campus, I could breathe.

I had just finished unpacking when a knock sounded against the door.

I frowned. Had Dad forgotten something? Or was my roommate finally here?

I took a deep breathe to calm my beating heart. I pulled the door open.

And forgot how to breathe.

A guy was leaning casually against my doorframe. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a college romance novel.

Dark hair. Strong jaw. A lazy, confident smirk. Blue jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up his muscular forearms, revealing a tattoo disappearing beneath the fabric.

He was so tall that I had to tip my head back to look at him.

In one hand, he held a red Solo cup that looked like it was part of his outfit.

Music and laughter spilled down the hallway behind him. There was a party happening somewhere nearby.

I stared at him. I knew that face. Everyone knew that face.

Callum Ferreira.

The captain of the hockey team.

The captain of the school’s award-winning hockey team, to be exact.

His face was plastered across the athletics posters all over campus. I had seen him all over the school’s social media accounts.

He was the boy everyone knew. The star athlete. The campus golden boy.

…and he was standing outside my dorm room.

I slowly looked down at myself. My stomach sank.

I was wearing one of mom’s oldest sweaters. The thing was oversized, faded, and had probably survived several decades. My hair was a mess and my skin was sweaty from carrying boxes all afternoon.

I looked like the exact opposite of whatever kind of girl Callum Ferreira normally talked to.

Surprisingly, he smiled. “Hey.”

I blinked. “Uhm…Hi?”

“My name is Callum,” he said with a dimpled smile, casually stretching his hand to me.

I almost laughed. As if I needed the introduction.

“Ferreira,” I muttered, ignoring his hand.

His eyebrows lifted. “You know who I am.”

“Unfortunately.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

Interesting. He seemed amused rather than offended.

“I’m throwing a party at the end of the week,” he said. “Season opener for all the newbies. You should come. Take this as my personal invitation.”

I stared at him. Then at the red cup. Then past him at the crowd moving through the hallway. Then back at him.

Was this a dream?

“I think you have the wrong room. I’m the last person you’d want at your party”

He glanced over his shoulder.

I continued before he could respond. “Seriously. You probably meant to knock on someone else’s door.”

His gaze shifted toward the plaque beside my door. “This is Room 309, right?”

“Yes.”

He looked back at me. “So you’re Wren Castellano, aren’t you?”

My entire body went still. He knew my name! Wait, he knew my name? How? I hadn’t told him. “How do you know that?”

He took another casual sip from his cup. “Maybe I know everyone’s name. Maybe it’s my super-power.”

I narrowed my eyes. “That sounds creepy.”

He laughed. It was low and effortless. “Maybe.”

I gripped the edge of the door. “Well, thanks for the invite and all but I’m not going to your party.”

His eyes widened like he wasn’t used to hearing no. “You haven’t even heard the details.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Believe me, You might have fun-”

I folded my arms. “I highly doubt it.”

“Why?”

I glanced down at my sweater. “Look at me.”

He did.

And, to my horror, his eyes traveled over me slowly. Not disrespectfully. Just long enough to make me suddenly aware of every ugly thread in my sweater.

When his eyes returned to mine, his smirk had deepened. “I’m looking.”

My cheeks heated. I hated that. I hated even more that he noticed. “I’m really not your type of person.”

“You don’t know my type.”

“I’ve seen the kind of girls you post with on TikTok.”

That earned me a genuine laugh. “So you’ve been following me?”

“No!”

“Sure.” He leaned a little closer. The hallway noise seemed to fade. “Let me be clear, little Wren. I did not make a mistake.”

My heart gave one hard, confused beat. “What?”

He straightened. For the first time since he’d appeared, his expression lost some of its teasing edge. “I came here for you. I want you to be at my party. And I don’t take no for an answer.”

His eyes held mine.

And suddenly, I had the strangest feeling that the quiet little life I’d planned for myself had just been knocked completely off its axis.

I stared at him.

Callum Ferreira.

The boy everyone knew.

The boy who could have knocked on any door on this entire campus.

Yet somehow, he’d chosen mine.

Room 309.

And I had absolutely no idea why.