Page 5 of Weak Side

“I’d like to know the same.”

My voice turned to ice as I pointed to the blonde. “Get out. You and the rest of campus knows that you don’t get to come into my room unless invited, and I didn’t invite you.”

Her lips parted, and usually, I’d feel bad at the sign of hurt on a girl’s face, or I’d sugarcoat my words, but it seemed she needed a little dose of humility. Thankfully, a moment later, she threw on her clothes and took her lack of self-respect with her when she rushed out the room. Before the door shut again, I heard a couple of guys yelling, “Good choice, Wolf!” which indicated that every guy on the floor sawbothgirls go into my room, and not a single one of them had warned me.

Assholes.

I kept my eyes pinned on Claire, wondering what the mix-up was. Roommate? She was out of her fucking mind if she thought she was my new roommate.

“You obviously have your signals crossed if you think you’re my new roommate, babe.” I pulled my sweaty shirt over my head and tossed it in the hamper in the corner of my room, putting my back to her. I bent down and pulled out a fresh black tee from my bag and spun around, holding the cotton in my hand. “You’re far too tiny to be a male.” I slid my attention away from her heartbreaker eyes and landed on her small waist.Definitely not a penis in those tight jeans.

When I raised my gaze back to hers, I prepared myself for the punch that would soon follow with it. I wouldn’t deny it—she was pretty in the way that most girls weren’t. Subtle, delicate features but eyes that made your chest tight.Not my type, though.She was the type of girl that hated guys like me. It was obvious in the way she was glaring.

“My signals aren’t crossed. Admissions switched my first and last name—instead of Claire Bryant, they have me as Bryant Claire—so they put me in a male dorm, and I’ve already talked to them. There isn’t anything else available, so yeah, I’m your roommate.”

“No.”

Her arms crossed over her chest, and that was when I read her shirt.The Bex. Did she work there? Why hadn’t I noticed her before?

“Do you think I’m lying? First, you assume I’m a puck bunny, and now you think I’m lying. Do you think Iwantto room with you?”

I opened my mouth to say something, but her little mumble caught me off guard.

“Typical fucking jock.”

“What was that?” I asked, inching closer to her.

“Listen.” Her hands flew to her hips, and her cheeks were pinker than before. “I’ve gotta go to work, so you’ll have some time to adjust. I’ll be back later if you’d like to insult me some more.”

Damn, she’s feisty.

I laughed as I finally snapped back to attention and pulled my shirt over my head. Her eyes dipped to my defined stomach before she quickly looked away and grabbed her phone and keys off the desk opposite of mine.

“This will be taken care of by the time you get back from your shift.”

She paused with her back to me. “I’ve already tried to take care of it. There are no more open rooms. It is what it is.”

Apparently, she was used to accepting things even if they weren’t going her way.

“Not to be arrogant, but I have some pull in this school, Bryant. This will be taken care of.”

Her eyes sharpened into diamonds. “My name is Claire, and I know you’re used to getting your way, but I’m pretty sure there is nothing you can do to fix this except move into your own place. So, I will see you later.”

Then, the door opened, and she left, leaving me standing there in surprise because, for the first time in my life, I met a girl who didn’t fall over her own feet to talk to me.

The cool air of the hockey rink always brought out a side of me that I kept hidden until the ice was beneath my skates and my hands were holding onto my hockey stick. Everything else faded away. The only thing I focused on was the little black puck that moved effortlessly against the slick glaze of the rink, and I felt comfortable, even if there were thousands of people's eyes on me.

I broke away from the play and stole the puck from Landon, who was the last man standing between me and Emory, our starting goalie. At the very last second, I slipped to the right before lifting the puck up, glove side, just out of his line of sight. The sound of the puck on the post was like a drug to me. I continued skating, circling behind the net before heading back toward center ice.

“Nice, bro.” I tapped gloves with my best friend and teammate, Aasher, as he complimented my goal. “What’s all the anger for, though?” he asked. “The puck pretty much had fire on it.”

I took my helmet off as Coach blew the whistle, ending practice. I skated toward the bench beside Aasher to head into the locker room. “I’m not angry. Just annoyed. Found a puck bunny in my bed after conditioning earlier.”

“Nice, did you tap that?”

I shot him a glare. “No, I told her to get the fuck out of my room. Now, every puck bunny is gonna know where my room is. I was trying to keep that shit on lockdown this season.” This was easily the most important season of my college career. I didn’t need any extra drama.

“You need to move into an apartment—one with a security guard.”

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