Page 24 of Unrecognizable Player

This is just the start of my day. I have multiple classes for my finance major and a ton of assignments and reading to do at the library. I chose this course because it was intense, and intense means success. But also because this school has a 100% work placement reputation in the field, and alumni have gone on to work at places like Goldman Sachs and J.P. Morgan. The kind of jobs that mean you never have to worry about money again.

By the timeI get back home, I’m so exhausted, I forget I even have a roommate until I open the front door and am met by the sight of a stupidly hot guy in sweatpants watching a house flipping show and eating popcorn out of my big mixing bowl.

He looks up with his mouth open, about to throw a handful of popcorn in it.

“Oh, hey.”

I feel like I’m gonna combust. This is the last thing I fucking need when I’m trying to focus on my final year of college. Trying to secure work placements and pass my finals and get my degree and win the Frozen Four and…

“Is everything okay?”

Yeah, no, stop looking like… that.

“Fine, just tired.”

I walk past him, keeping my eyes averted from the way he looks in the college sweater. All my college merch has the hockey logo on it. But his is the classic kind you see lawyers wearing to bed on TV shows.

When I open the fridge, it’s full of take-out boxes. Usually it’s empty save for ingredients for protein shakes and the occasional tub of chicken soup from my babushka.

“What’s all this food?”

“Oh, I went to see my parents today and they gave me that.”

“Do your parents own a restaurant or something?”

“Yeah.”

Oh, I was joking, but okay.

Even cold and in boxes, it smells good.

He gets up and comes into the kitchen, standing way too close to me.

“Want me to warm something up for you?”

“What is it?”

“Greek food. There’s keftedes, and some kebabs and this is just mixed vegetables…”

He’s walked around me and is standing right in front of me now, rifling through the take-out boxes. He’s at least four inches shorter than me and his head is right there, the smell of his coconutty shampoo and butter popcorn.

I take such a violent step back, I bump into the counter.

“I’m fine, not hungry.”

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble-”

“I said I’m fine.”

Fuck.He looks at me all Bambi-like with those eyes.

“Sorry, I’m exhausted, I’m just gonna go to bed.”

As soon as I get into my room, I close the door and press my back to it.Fuck, how am I gonna deal with living with this guy? He’s fucking infuriating.

I wait until it sounds like he’s gone back to his house flipping show and his popcorn before I even allow myself to get changed and climb into bed. I’ll brush my teeth once he’s gone to sleep.

Obviously I can’t sleep. Even though I’m so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open.

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