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I glance at my wrist and shake my head. “Can’t. Got class in thirty, so I have to haul ass.”
He nods and holds up his fist. “Later, then.”
One lightning-fast shower later, I’m out of there.
Partial differential equations await.
I find Hayes and Soren in my kitchen when I get home after my last class of the day. Mondays are my longest days, with my last class of the day scheduled after hockey practice, so I’m beat. I toe off my shoes and drop my bag on the floor.
“I saw you two at the gym this morning. At lunch. And during practice. Some would say it’s too much,” I call out while I shrug out of my Brighton Nomads bomber jacket and pull off the wool beanie.
I make my way into the living area. It’s all one big space. Bed against one wall. Kitchen nook against the opposite. There’s a TV mounted to the wall and a gaming set underneath it. My desk is in front of the bay window.
That’s it.
My mother was very insistent I need more room, but I actually like this more than my room in her house. She doesn’t know how to relax, so she’s constantly redecorating. Just as one interior designer finishes their work, another one waltzes in. Every time I go home, my room looks new. It’s not much different from staying at a hotel.
This place is mine, though.
There was a moment at the end of my first year when I considered moving in with Hayes, Soren, and two other guys from the team, but every time I have to share a hotel room with one of them for an away game, I remember why I like having my own space.
It probably makes me an asshole, but I’m also tired enough today to kind of wish I was alone right now, too.
Soren and Hayes are in the middle of shooting zombies on the console, two empty pizza boxes open on the floor.
“Eleven o’clock. Eleven o’clock. My eleven o’clock!” Soren yells like he’s in an actual apocalypse. “Dude!” he shouts before he drops his controller on the bed and flops onto his back with a loud groan. “You were supposed to be watching my back,” he says, and halfheartedly kicks Hayes in the shin.
“The fuck does my eleven o’clock mean in your head? We were facing the same way.” Hayes puts his own controller down.
“It definitely wasn’t where you were aiming.”
“Remind me never to try surviving an apocalypse with you.”
Soren pushes himself up on his elbows with an affronted look. “I would kick ass in an apocalypse, and you know it.”
Hayes sends him an amused look. “Yeah? How do you figure that?”
“I’m fast. Cunning. And merciless.” He waves his finger between me and Hayes. “I have to fuck one of you over to survive, I’ll do it. No guilt.”
“Steady there, killer.” Hayes snorts.
“You just wait,” Soren says in what’s most likely supposed to be an ominous voice. “I’ve got mad skills.”
“Are those mad skills in the room with us right now?” Hayes asks, ducking when Soren lobs my pillow at his face.
I rub my palms over the top of my head while I watch the two of them descend into a wrestling match before I open the fridge and peer into it.
“You break my bed, I’m going to murder you before you ever get the chance to flex your apocalypse survival skills,” I say, still trying to figure out dinner.
The fight continues for another few minutes before Hayes pushes Soren off the bed and he lands on the floor on his back, laughing out loud.
“Fucker,” he says, flipping Soren off for good measure.
I slam the fridge door shut when it becomes clear there’s nothing edible in there. I glance at the empty pizza boxes on the floor.
“You could’ve left me some,” I say.
“Pizza’s not healthy,” Soren says. “We did you a favor.”
