Rooming With My Ex-Mate's Hockey Star Brother

SADIE

Lola’s keyboard is still clattering softly when I come back from Trey’s room, rubbing a towel over my damp hair.

She’s on my bed with her laptop open, trying to get some work done after coming all the way back from Worcester because she couldn’t reach me.

I feel bad about adding that trip to everything she already has to deal with. Her research involves collecting data from two universities and two colleges in Boston, finding two hundred and eighty participants, and somehow pleasing Professor Whitaker, who, according to her, has never smiled when her thesis comes up.

”You took forever in there,” she says, her eyes still on the screen.

”I felt sweaty. I needed a long bath.”

I check my reflection before hanging up the towel. By the time I turn back, Lola has pushed her laptop aside and is patting the space beside her.

”Come. Let’s talk.”

My lips press together, and I trudge over with a small whine. This feels so much like the talks we used to have in our small but comfortable dorm room that I miss it more just sitting down beside her.

Lola turns toward me as I settle. ”Are you okay? Like, actually okay?”

I could tell her I’m considering a trip to Shaolin Temple, where I’d unload everything in my head on the first monk willing to listen. There’s anger, exhaustion, fear, and somewhere in the middle of all that, anticipation about Trey. I don’t know how to explain all of it without confusing us both, and Lola has already come all this way when she has enough of her own work to worry about.

”I’m okay.” I stretch out on the bed. ”And if I’m not, I’ll figure it out soon.”

”You know you can always count on me, right?”

A small laugh slips out. ”Lola, who else am I going to count on?” I scoot closer until our shoulders touch. ”How’s your thesis going?”

She rolls her eyes, and the sigh that follows tells me enough to regret asking.

”I’ve got a hundred and forty participants out of two hundred and eighty. I thought being halfway there might earn me five minutes of happiness, but Professor Whitaker says I’ve barely made a dent.” She tips her head back. ”I hate education.”

I grimace. ”Unfortunately, it’s the price we pay for having a decent standing in the world.”

”That’s a flawed premise,” she counters, suddenly finding the energy for an argument. ”We’ve confused institutional approval with competence. That’s why Whitaker can look at a fifty-percent recruitment rate and make me feel like I’ve accomplished nothing.”

The sudden seriousness catches me off guard, and a laugh slips out. Lola glares, which should make me stop, but now the resemblance to her mother is even harder to ignore. My hand flies to my mouth too late.

”I never thought I’d say this, but you sound just like your mother.”

Her mouth falls open, and I scoot back before she can remember she has hands. Turning into her mother is Lola’s personal horror movie, and I’ve just informed her that filming has begun.

”There is not a single bone of that egotistical California scientist in me.” She keeps her hands to herself, thankfully, though the offended look doesn’t last long. ”I do have a bone for gossip. What’s going on between you and Trey?”

With a groan, I flop onto my back and pull the pillow beside me over my face. ”It’s almost three in the morning. Can we go to sleep?”

”You know damn well neither of us is sleeping until you spill.”

”There’s nothing to spill.” It comes out muffled, which suits me. If I stay under here long enough, maybe we can both pretend I’ve fallen asleep.

”You’re lying.” Lola pulls the pillow off my face. ”When I came in, the air between you two was practically buzzing.” She wiggles her fingers between us, supplying her own little spark noises. ”You looked flustered. Trey looked annoyed. It was giving ’we kissed and then argued about it.’”

My heart gives that stupid little thump it’s started doing whenever kissing and Trey end up in the same sentence. A calm denial would be useful right now, but Lola is watching my face, and I’ve suddenly forgotten how to pretend.

”I wasn’t flustered.”

Lola pulls back to look at me properly, her eyes wide and her lips parted in disbelief. ”Sadie Rhodes. Did you kiss—”

Before she can finish, I throw myself across the bed and clamp a hand over her mouth.

”He might hear you,” I whisper.

”You—” The rest disappears under my palm as both her hands close around my wrist. ”You’re suffocating me.”

”Oh, sorry.” I pull back, genuinely worried until I see the mischievous grin she’s been saving for the moment I release her.

”You better tell me everything, or I’ll light up this whole apartment with my voice.”

A threat from Lola deserves immediate attention. She once went to class with honey all through her hair over a dare, and I doubt she’s developed a sense of restraint specifically for tonight. If Trey wakes up to her announcing our kiss to the apartment, I’ll be moving to Texas under a new name before either of them gets to say good morning.

I sigh and tell her everything. Catching Dixie’s scent on Trey feels like a reasonable place to start, and from there I work my way through the game, the bar, and the conversation in our living room. By the time I reach the part where Trey and I agreed to be exclusive, I have to stop and explain that we’re not actually in a relationship. We haven’t even talked about what being in one would look like.

It’s a lot to hear myself say aloud. I try to make the story easier for Lola to follow, going back whenever she interrupts with a question and waiting out the occasional outburst before I can continue.

”And then you showed up.” My throat feels dry from talking. ”That’s what’s been happening in my life, bestie.”

Lola makes a sound that could pass for a growl. ”I don’t think I deserve that title anymore. You were about to go to sleep without telling me any of this.”

”No,” I whine. ”I was going to tell you. Tonight just felt like the wrong time.”

”There is never a wrong time to tell me Trey Mercer confessed he’s into you, Miss Rhodes.” She catches my arm. ”He told you he wants you, and you were going to put a pillow over your face and go to sleep? Were you planning to mention it over breakfast? Pass the butter, by the way, Trey’s into me?”

Hearing it put like that makes me scratch the back of my neck. ”Crazy, right?”