by Erin Leigh
But Mom scowls. “Don't give me that slimy grin, young man. You be nice to that poor kid if he is a science nerd. And stay outta trouble. I didn't work so hard for so many years to have you blow this, BJ.” A miniscule piece of me wonders if she knows what she’s saying and she does it anyway.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Yeah, don't blow it.” Andy chuckles again, making a dick-sucking motion.
“I won’t. Trust me. You’re the pro in that arena.” I glare at Andy, but he just nods knowingly. “See you guys at the first game?”
“You know it, Blow Job!” Andy laughs, getting another slap from Mom as I climb in the truck and start the brute up. I give a wave and a honk and get on my way. I gotta beat Nate so I can have the bigger room, and he has a half-hour head start on me. What does a nerd need space for? I have to be able to do push-ups and other workouts.
Chapter Three
Miss-communication
Natalie
My dad gets the last of the boxes in the apartment. My mom checks the job the cleaners did, criticizing their work and leaves me a list of everything they missed. She wants her money back.
I think the place looks great and smells amazing, but her standards are somewhere up with God’s. Too high for us mere mortals to see or comprehend. She unpacks everything and starts filling cupboards and drawers she’s wiped out, even though they’re completely clean. Dad gives me a sympathetic look. “We have to get going, Darlene. And I suspect Nat would like to set up her own kitchen.” He says it in the most loving way. So loving I suspect he’s mocking me. He knows the kitchen and I don't always see eye to eye.
“I think the furniture is all new, even the mattresses. So that’s good.” She blinks and pauses. “What, dear?”
“We should let Natalie set her own house up.”
She swallows a lump in her throat, nodding slowly. “Right.” She forces that smile across her lips. “Of course, darling.” She walks to me, taking a huge inhale before she pulls me into her arms and hugs, sighing all over my cheek. “We’re not far. If you need us, let us know. We’ll be here in no time. If you need money, don't hesitate. If you get scared and want to come home—”
“Or if you just want to meet for dinner and tell us how fabulously you’re doing.” My dad becomes part of the embrace, but he doesn't exhale on me, he inhales—me. He smells my head as he plants a kiss there. “Your mother is right though, we’re very close and anything you need, we’ll do.”
That's been my entire life.
Anything I ever needed was handed to me.
It’s like being a princess without the royalty. I know how hard they’ve worked to give me everything. I just want to work hard now too. I don't want anything else from them. I want to give myself a life.
And I’m excited to have to tread water on my own a little. The security of them being so near is great, but the threat of sinking, even just a bit on my own, is even more thrilling.
“Thanks so much for bringing me and all my stuff.” I step back, dismissing them.
Dad beams, proud of me. I can see it so clearly. Mom looks worried, but she lets Dad pull her away. “We’ll call when we get home.” She waves as she lifts her purse and Dad literally drags her from my new house. “Lock the door. This is still a city. Love you, Natalie.”
I almost roll my eyes. I’ve been going to Manhattan with Sami for a decade. This is not a city.
Dad closes the door, winking at me with my mom looking stricken from behind him. I can’t imagine how hard this is going to be on him when he is all she has to focus on.
He’s really taking one for the team for me.
But I think they need some empty nest.
They were married for ten years before they had me. Surely they had things they liked doing before I came along. It’s been almost twenty-three years of making me happy. It’s time they make each other happy while I learn how to make me happy.
Excitement fills me as I spin, taking in the sight of my very first apartment. I don't even care that I’ll have a roommate. She seemed super friendly and cool in the emails. And Sami declared an odd amount of love for her, said she was awesome and easygoing and exactly what I needed.
That level of endorsement is almost impossible to get out of Sami who can be a bitch. But she likes BJ who she described as a typical Providence jock but awesome. She’s got some sports thing here in Hartford for the next two years. I didn't care to ask. I’m sure BJ will tell me when she gets here.
Walking to the window as the lights of the city start to brighten and the sun sets, my insides tingle with possibility. The world, well this small city, is my oyster. The capitol building across from Bushnell Park is stunning. The dome roof was shiny and glittery in the sunset but now the whole thing is lit like Christmas with white lights. The park is fabulous too. It all makes up for the fact our street name is Asylum. I don't even want to know why anyone would name a street Asylum. But the apartment building is perfect. Secure access, a great view, renovated heritage building, and close to where I work. It’s a quick jaunt across the park to Capitol Avenue. I’ve mapped it out twice.
Turning and facing the sea of boxes, I head back into the kitchen to start setting up but pause, wondering if I should wait for BJ. I glance at my phone, hoping she’s okay. She’s half an hour late.
The thought doesn't even linger in my mind for a moment before the lock on the door clicks.
My stomach aches with anticipation, but what I see come through the door can’t be right.
He’s tall, like big—but not fat.
He’s cute with brown hair hanging under his baseball cap and tanned skin.
No, he's super hot.
He has dark eyes and a sexy smile.
He’s like the right kind of delivery guy only I didn't order pizza.
Wait!
He unlocked the door with the key in his hand.
I take a step back, worried about the giant man coming through the door. Cute or not, this is not cool. Except I know his face. He’s the guy they were talking about with the possible trade blah, blah, blah. He was on ESPN. “You were just on TV.”
“Yeah.” He offers a grin, one that makes my already tight insides clench. “Hi. Where are my manners? You must be Nate’s girl. Is he here? I’m Brady, his new roommate.”
I close my eyes for the moment I need to decipher what he’s said. Nate and Brady? What?
“I think you have the wrong apartment. I’m William’s girlfriend.” Does he know Will? Is he here to see him? Is he confused? I’m confused.
What the hell?
“What?” He tilts his head, looks at the door again, and then at the key. “Who’s William? Where’s Nate? Did he bail on the plan? Sami said Nate. Is that wrong? Is it William?”
“Sami? Oh shit. You mean Nat?” I start to see the pieces of this puzzle fall into place. “Natalie?” I’ve been called Nate before by mistake. Not by Sami though. Did Sami know he was a boy? No, a man. He’s huge. He’s a giant. A super-hot giant.
“No.” He makes duck lips, making me smile until he speaks again, “No. She said Nate. She and Matt both said Nate. Computer tech.” The words are sort of falling from his lips. “Nerdy guy needed a roommate and there wasn't much available close to the XL.” He’s holding a hockey stick, and a nightmare—the nightmare of all nightmares—hits me.
“BJ?” I say it like I’m saying Ebola or cancer or AIDS.
“And you are—must be Nate. Nat.” He winces. His dark eyes do a lap of my body, maybe looking for the nerdy computer guy. He shakes his head. “You’re not a dude.”
“And you are.” What the ever-loving hell?
His lip wriggles in his teeth as he processes. “Yeah, and you’re not. I’m lost.”
“Nat. Natalie Banks.” I forget all my manners and upbringing for a heartbeat before stepping forward and offering my hand. “Nat. Not Nate.”
“Oh shit. We’re each other’s roommates?" His lips curl into a different sort of smile. One that makes
me instantly aware of his being a boy and my being a girl. “That was crazy for a second.” He steps forward, letting the door close on his huge hockey bag. “Brady Coldwell. Nice to meet you, not Nate.” The way his lips say his name as his eyes roam my mouth makes me blush. His hand wraps all the way around mine, enclosing it. He’s huge. I’m short but next to him I look like a little person. He suddenly seems completely casual again.
“Nice to meet you too.” I exhale nervously, shaking my head and his hand. “So, this is a mistake.”
“What? What is?” He glances down at our hands, still touching and smiles wider.
“We can’t live together. You’re a guy. I’m a girl. We don't know each other. It’s wrong. Morally.” Why can’t I shut up?
“Doesn't have to be. I’m cool with whatever. I just came here to play. I need a bed and a spot to chill out.”
I pull my hand back, noting how warm it still is. “What?”
“Are you friends with Sami and Matt or not?”
“She’s my best friend. I don't really know Matt that well. I’ve met him once at an event in Manhattan.”
His eyes squint a bit when I say event. “Sami vouched for you. Did she vouch for me?”
“Yes.” I squint back, not sure where he’s going with this. We clearly can’t stay roommates. Sami is dead to me. She will be. She better have an explanation for this shit.
“Then it’s settled. You stay on your side of the bathroom sink, and I’ll try not to hog the covers. You’re easier to look at than some science geek any day.” He winks and heads into the house to take a look. “This is nicer than I was expecting. Look at that view. I’ve never lived in a house with a view before.”
“We-we can’t live together,” I sputter. “We-we don't-don't even know each other. You could be—a—”
“I’m not going to be offended by that. This is all super simple, not Nate. You’re friends with my friend’s girl, and I’m friends with your best friend’s guy. They know us pretty well. I can’t imagine they would let me live with some psycho chick. You aren’t going to start wearing my clothes and trying to play hockey and sleep with my PFs, right?”
“What?”
“Single White Female?”
“I—I know the movie. I don't understand the reference and how it relates to us. We can’t live together! Surely, you see that?” My tone firms up and I sound like my mom for a minute. “What’s a PF?”
“Puck fuck.” He says it like you might say bless you. It’s nothing to him, certainly not a demeaning word for ladies.
I gasp.
He ignores it. “Natalie, we can be roommates easily. We’re both adults. A roommate is a roommate. I’ve paid my damage deposit and my entire year of rent. This place is nice, it’s two blocks to the XL Center. I don't have time to find another place; training camp starts tomorrow. I’m sorry you’re not happy. If you want to find another apartment, have at it. I won’t take it personally if you find it hard to live with a guy like me. I’m sure there’s no shortage of roommates looking for a place in this city.” His dark eyes sparkle when he says the last part, clearly mocking me. “Why don't we try it out for a week like adults and see if it works?”
“Fine.” My eyes narrow as I grip my cell phone and storm into my room filled with boxes. I slam the door and lie back on the bed my mom’s made, hating Sami for screwing this up. I dial her number, getting the answering service.
“You ass! You said BJ was a girl. You said BJ was into sports and was coming here for HER sports! What the hell, Sami? You call me back! Or I will hunt you down. If my mother finds out I’m living with some greasy jock, I’m dead. Do you understand me? Dead!” I hang up and close my eyes, contemplating how this is going to go down.
What the hell is my mom going to do when she finds out my roommate is a guy?
She’s going to make me move home. She’s going to say that I’m not old enough to live on my own and handle things responsibly. This is proof of my obvious immaturity.
Shit!
I’m going to die an old cat lady, still living with my mom and playing video games in her basement.
Chapter Four
The crazy librarian
Brady
Head case.
It’s not a pretty word for such a pretty girl. But at least it’ll keep my eyes on the prize and stop me from being tempted by her perfect ass. She’s hot in the best ways. Perfect, shiny, pale blonde hair that’s thick and soft looking. It comes all the way down to her perky ass, the kind you want to grab onto as you dive inside. Maybe as you give her hair a bit of a tug, like reins.
And those eyes. I had no idea such bright-blue eyes could have fire in them, but hers are cold and filled with flames. Icy flames.
Damn.
Matt might have told me she was sexy.
He might have also told me she was a chick.
Of course he wouldn't have done that though. He’s probably laughing his face off right now, him and Sami. I know they’re enjoying this. He’s got the wild version of this girl, and I get the cardigan sweaters and gosh-diddly-dang version.
She’s got church choir written all over her. Morally wrong? Yikes.
I’ve banged enough church chicks to know what freaks they are. And once you open that flower up, there’s no closing it. They’re always head cases and freaks, and they go from virginal to clingy faster than Bobby Hull’s slap shot.
Unless she’s a tranny . . .
Naw. Those boobs were completely real the way they bounced when she crossed the room. She’s just a sexy head case.
I can cope with that.
I close my eyes and say a quiet thanks to God for making sure that girl was just crazy enough to not turn me on, not all the way. Yes, I want to bang her, but I want to bang every pretty face I see. The moment she opened her mouth she saved us both some awkward action.
I wasn’t lying when I said we could be roommates.
The fact she’s pouting in her bedroom because her first white girl problem is upon her is reason number one I won’t be sleeping with her.
If she’s friends with Sami, she’s a spoiled little rich brat who’s never had a challenge yet.
Maybe she is the perfect roommate, the way Matt said she was. I’m here to focus on hockey not girls.
I head into the hallway to rescue my hockey bag and then go grab the boxes of stuff from my truck.
I have tonight to get organized before the training camp starts at Champions Skating Center. It’s going to be a couple of weeks of hell and being put through the paces before we find ourselves as a team. Most of us are new to the farm team for the New York Rangers, and the Hartford Wolf Pack has a reputation for having tough training. We need to find positions and lines and see who works well together and who shouldn't actually have made the cut.
I do not want to be that guy. It can be hard after you’ve gotten comfortable in collegiate hockey so you look like a shining star. Then you get to the big leagues and your stats drop, and the team has no idea why they brought you up.
Until you score that first goal and prove you’re going to pull your weight, you’re nothing. I don't want to be nothing for very long.
I get the last box up to the apartment to discover she’s in the kitchen putting away her mess that's all over the counters. She must be staying. She looks sour as balls, but she’ll get over it. We don't have to love one another, but we do have to get along. Unlike her, I can pull my big girl panties up and act like I don't mind her. She’s hot. That makes it easier. I’ll just stare at her tits while she lectures me on the toilet seat.
She offers a slightly less pissed off look. “You hungry?”
“Yeah.” I nod and put the box in my room with the others. Is the meal a peace offering or is she trying to kill me off so she can have the place to herself since I already paid for the year?
I sneak a glance back at her in the kitchen as she reads something off her phone. She looks lost as she adds something to the pot.
She’s
trying to kill me.
Luckily, I have the Coldwell cast-iron stomach.
She wrinkles her forehead and lifts her gaze to mine, maybe sensing I’m watching her. “Do you know what it means when it says zest?”
A smile creeps across my lips. “You don't know how to cook?” Oh shit. Poison and food poisoning. Even the Coldwell stomach can’t take a double whammy.
“Not really.”
“Give me two seconds.” I step back into the room and send Matt a text: How did Nate turn out to be a hot and slightly crazy librarian? It’s like living at home with my mom, only this girl can’t cook. You’re a piece of shit and I want an explanation for this.
I know there is one. There’s got to be a reason for this.
When I get to the kitchen I get as close as I dare to peek at her phone. “Pasta primavera? Brave. Cream sauce is actual work. Let’s go with the Rao’s pasta sauce. I have some in one of my boxes.” I hurry to get it before she gets any further, and we both die from whatever she’s attempting. I jog into the kitchen, ready to hand her the jar of sauce, but she’s about to add a handful of salt to the water she’s going to boil.
Desperate to not die of a stroke, I nod my head at the table. “You look stressed. Let me make you dinner.” I suspect stressed is just her look.
“Sorry, what?” She lifts her face, tilting her head in confusion. “You can cook?”
“Yeah, I can cook. This isn’t even cooking. It’s—” I pause, seeing the hurt look in her sapphire eyes. “Never mind. Just take a seat and watch. This’ll be College Survival 101, making pasta that won’t give you cancer.”
She dumps the salt in the sink and washes her hands. “Okay. But I’m finished college. I’m actually a digital artist.” She pulls up a seat at the counter, on one of the barstools.
“What’s that?”
“Graphic designer.”
“Cool.” I still don't completely understand what that is, but I have to assume Nat the computer nerd is similar to Nate the tech dude. Of course she is. “This is a great kitchen. I never imagined there would be a nice island and everything.” I try to distract from the fact I’m totally dumping everything she’s done and washing the pots out to start from scratch. It’s become less of a poison situation and more of an artery clogging one.
