The Hockey Star and His Roommate; She Has A Secret

WRENLEY

The eviction notice is taped to my door, so I take it down again for the third one this month.

I fold it into quarters and shove it into my pocket with the other two. At this point, I should probably start a collection.

"Fuck," I cursed silently as the alarm for practice goes off. Swimming has always been something I was good at, but winning the Olympics was a newfound dream, one that was way better than the mate I was promised to before I could even walk.

Despite Coach Diaz's ongoing campaign to turn me into a cyclist, I still prefer walking. It requires less coordination and fewer opportunities for public humiliation.

I manage to make it with four minutes to spare, which means I walk onto the deck still pulling my cap on, and Coach Diaz looks at the clock instead of at me. Apparently being four minutes early still counts as late in his personal religion.

"Vale. Lane four. We're doing two hundreds on the three."

"Got it." I tug at the tape wrapped around my ankle, over the mark that names the bloodline I ran from. A secret big enough to have already cost my family everything.

Lane four is the slow lane. He intentionally put me there in week two, after I won the trial too easily and didn't know yet that winning easily is the most suspicious thing a person can do in a building full of people who've spent their whole lives trying to win hard.

So I watered down my abilities, intentionally making mistakes and letting Elise take credit.

Practice ends the way it usually does. Elise gloating about how she's swim dynasty which isn't true by the way and her minions hovering over her like mindless idiots. God, I can't stand them.

"Hey weirdo," she called out positioning herself to block the only exit out of here.

"What crisis are we manufacturing today?" I asked, my face in a tight frown.

"Stay away from my boyfriend," she spat.

    "That's unfortunate." I shrug which makes her blink.

     "What's unfortunate?"

"That you thought this conversation was necessary."

"Why you little..." her hand comes in my direction, but I hold it hard. "Don't think I haven't noticed the way you look at you." she fumes while trying to free herself from my grip.

"Did the water perhaps go to your brain?" I asked calmly before releasing her hand. "I would never want anything to do with that meatheaded boyfriend of yours. In fact, your relationship warns me never to fall in love." I reply, brushing her shoulders while I continue walking.

"Why you..." she scoffed but I was already out the door to care about her nonsense.

Why would anyone want to be with Aurel Castell? Sure he's handsome, has nice abs that he may have caught me staring at and the number one defenseman for the Ice Bears but that doesn't make him my type.

I came here to win not to engage in college romance that ends in nothing but heartbreak.

Tess finds me in the dining hall at noon, which is unusual, because Tess and I aren't friends, exactly.

She's the only person on the team who talks to me like I'm a person and not a problem, which is kind of suspicious if you think about it but she has consistently found a way to exist in my space so much so, I don't mind anymore.

She drops her tray across from mine like empty tables are a personal insult. "Hey, what's up? You look like someone canceled your birthday."

"I don't have a birthday." I mumbled but she heard me.

"That's not even possible," she chuckles. "Everyone has a birthday."

"Well I don't." I dropped the sandwich in my hands a little too fiercely.

"If you don't want to talk, I can go..." she said getting up.

"Sit down."

She paused.

"I'm having a bad day. Don't make it worse by looking guilty." I resumed biting into the sandwich.

"Well, I have just the thing to cheer you up," she giggled.

Of course she did. Tess treated every problem like it could be solved with enough enthusiasm.

She leaned in, both elbows on the table. "Well, the hockey team won last night."

Great. That meant another week of people acting like they personally won the championship.

"You're going to have to translate that into a language I care about." I replied not sharing in her enthusiasm.

"It means there's a party on Friday at one of the seniors' houses, the nice one near campus, and the whole athletic department's going to be there." She grins like she's personally responsible for the existence of happiness.

I have been here for a while now and I still don't understand why putting skates on a man automatically lowers everyone's IQ by twenty points.

"Congratulations to them, I guess." I say, taking another bite. "I have plans."

"You? Have plans?" She scoffed, crossing her arms. "What plans? Because you're not going to escape this time."

Fuck, I knew it was only a matter of time before she saw through my excuses.

"Wrenley." Her voice drops. "I've been on this team for three years. Three years. And I have never once been invited to a thing like this. You've been here six weeks and you don't even want it, which makes you the perfect person, because you won't peel off the second someone shinier shows up. I just..." She stops, picking at her tray. "I need a wing-woman who isn't going to abandon me. That's the whole pitch. That's it." She sulks.

And there it is. She has done this a thousand times now and the answer is always the same. Saying no would have been easier, unfortunately, Tess looked hopeful.

"Fine." I say and Tess immediately lights up. "Don't make that face," I warn. "I already regret this."

"I already picked something for you. It's going to look incredible on you and you're going to hate it."

"Can't wait." My tone suggests the exact opposite.

"Oh thank you so much for this," She's already standing and gathering her tray like she's afraid I'll take it back. "I'm coming to your place at eight. Don't pretend you're not home, I'll know."

I watch her leave without another word because, unlike her and everyone in this school, I don't actually know how much time I have left.

Just like every other night since I arrived, I don't sleep.

"Who the fuck messages someone at four in the morning?" I curse when the message notification pings. It's from coach.

"Scouts coming to the invitational in three weeks."

Fantastic. Exactly what my life needed. More complications. But I won't stop reading.

"Real ones. You hold back any more than you already are and I'll know, and so will they. Decide what you want, Vale."

Now to just anyone, this message is the perfect opportunity to showcase one's talent but to me, this is a disaster.

Because the moment I let myself swim as fast as I actually can, I lose my grip on the thing clawing under my skin and the second anyone sees that, I can kiss my dreams goodbye.