Page 6 of Chase Lovett Wants Me

“Never heard of him,” I say.

Colby passes me the key. “Same goes for you about the noise complaints.”

I salute him. “Sir, yes, sir.”

He gives me an unimpressed look.

“We have practice in the morning,” I remind him. We have practice almost every morning.

“I’ve heard that before.”

We head for the elevators and wait with the other students who have been assigned rooms. We all look like a bunch of drowned rats. And I probably look like a colossal douche since I’m shirtless. But I’d literally just gotten out of the shower when the alarm went off. I hope Colby wasn’t lying about the pajamas or I’ll be turning a sheet into a toga until I get some clothes.

We cram ourselves into the elevator. Every button gets pushed. We should have taken the stairs. Two girls are huddled in the corner giggling behind their hands as they eye us from the side.

“You ask,” one whispers.

“No, you.”

“Yes. His brother plays for the Terror,” I say helpfully.

“That’s, like, so, so cool. And you all play for the school team, right?” one girl asks.

The elevator doors open, and they shuffle out onto the second floor.

Brody pulls his hood up and leans against the wall, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

We lose a few more people on the third floor.

“You wanna come up to our room for a bit and hang out?” Gage asks.

“Nah, man. It’s late. Text in the morning and we’ll grab breakfast, though?”

“Sure. Good luck with your roommate.”

I get off on the fourth floor and tread down the hall to room 420. Hopefully this Cameron dude is chill. And not a complete fucking weirdo.

I scan my keycard and open the door. Sitting in the middle of the single king-sized bed is a small dude. He’s wearing a schoolhoodie that’s probably four sizes too big. The hood is pulled up, concealing his face, and his laptop is open in front of him. He types frantically. It’s actually impressive how quickly his fingers move across the keyboard.

I let the door fall closed, expecting it to startle him, but he just keeps typing. It isn’t until I’m standing at the end of the bed that he finally realizes he’s not alone anymore.

His shriek is…high-pitched and feminine. He slams his laptop shut and yanks his hood down. Earbuds fall onto the laptop, which has a sticker that reads MY FAVORITE SPORT IS READING. I already feel judged. And that feeling magnifies as wide, gray eyes meet mine.

Wide, gray eyes, framed with thick darkfemininelashes.

Her long dark hair is pulled back in a braid that hangs over her shoulder. And her legs are bare. She’s wearing a pair of socks pulled up to her knees, though. “Uh, I think maybe there’s been a mistake. I’m supposed to be rooming with some guy named Cameron.”

She blinks at me. And says nothing.

“Are you Cameron’s girlfriend?” I ask.

She shakes her head.

I wait for her to offer more information, but nothing.

“Are you Cameron?”

She narrows her eyes, like I’m stupid for even asking.

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