Things did not end well.
I’ve been spending every minute since trying to prove to my family—my grandparents especially—that I’m not the same reckless girl I once was. I’ve learned from my mistakes.
Earning their trust again means everything to me, but not if it comes with strings attached.
My grandmother reaches for her phone, and I know she’s about to call her only daughter and confirm what I just explained. Suddenly, Grandad’s hand covers his wife’s smaller one in a gesture that means more to me than I can say. He’s trusting me. He may not love what I’m doing, but he understands that in the grand scheme of things, moving into a house full of college students is a relatively harmless thing to do.
Gran takes a sip of coffee before peering at me over the edges of her reading glasses. “It sounds like you have a plan, then, but just know you always have a room here if you need it.”
Grandad nods, cutting into his cinnamon roll. “Yes, even if you just need a quiet place to study, or a good meal.” He smiles at me. “You know our door is always open.”
Three hours later, I’m moving into The Chapel with the help of Annabelle and her boyfriend, Dean.
“These cinnamon rolls are fucking fire,” he says, shoving one into his mouth as he grabs my heaviest suitcase with his other hand. “Is your grandad a hockey fan? ‘Cause we can get him tickets in exchange for baked goods.”
I laugh. “His ancestor founded the college, and Grandad still sits on the Board of Trustees, so I think he can get hockey tickets pretty easily if he wants them. My grandparents attended all of Booker’s games.”
“Damn,” Dean mutters. “Do they need a pool boy? Maybe somebody to mow the grass? I’d sell my spleen for another cinnamon roll.”
“How about I just ask him to make some more when I visit them for brunch on Sunday?”
“That works,” Dean says, before turning to take my suitcase inside.
I reach for the last box in my trunk and heft it into my arms. At five feet, six inches, I’m not a tiny girl, but this box is just big enough that it obstructs my view until it’s too late. I drop it onto the porch so I can open the door, but when I reach for the handle, there’s just air.
Well, air and a very hot hockey player.
Ollie’s eyes meet mine as his mouth hangs open. There’s a look of utter confusion on his face, like he’s a little kid who can’t figure out why he’s seeing his teacher at the grocery store. Doesn’t she live at school?
“What are you doing here?” he asks, signing as he speaks. And no, I’m not his biggest fan, but I have to admit that it’s kind of endearing that he signs and speaks simultaneously, even when he can see that I’m wearing my hearing aids.
I smile brightly, loving the way his brow furrows as I scoop up my box and step forward. “I’m moving in,” I tell him, as I walk past.
I don’t need to glance back to see that he still hasn’t picked his jaw up off the floor.
9
Ollie
Based on the grade staring back at me from my phone screen, skipping class two days ago was a bad idea. I wouldn’t have if I’d have had any clue that Dr. Selby was going to give us a pop quiz today. On a Friday. After only two weeks of classes.
Ok, I probably would have skipped anyway. After all, somebody had to test the mechanical bull before we rented it.
As I make my way across campus, I compose a mental list of all the shit I still need to do.
Tomorrow night’s party is going to be the best one I’ve ever thrown, and that’s saying something. I’m the host with the most. The motherfucking champ of entertaining. My backpack alone has a better bar selection than half the houses on Greek Block. It even has a special pouch for lime wedges.
No one on campus throws a banger like I do, and if the pudding shipment arrives in time, I’m going to outdo myself.
Hell, even if it doesn’t, this party is going to go down in BU history as legendary.
And boy, do we need it. Tensions are as high as ever on the team and we still have a few weeks until the season officially starts. The guys are constantly at each other’s throats and even though it’s petty shit, the resentment is building. Dutton parked in Dean’s space, Mickey used up the last of Blue’s favorite protein powder, and someone keeps flushing the toilet every time Jenksy steps in the shower.
Ok, that’s kinda funny.
The point is, we all need to kick back and relax, including me. Scratch that. Especially me.
My teammates aren’t the only ones with roommate issues.
