Chapter 1: Nothing good ever happens after 2:00 am
Bang. Bang.
“Andy, help. Open up.”
I’m jolted out of a deep sleep.
“Whoozit?” Between my dry mouth and semi-conscious state, I can hardly get the words out. Still half-asleep, I throw off my cozy duvet and totter towards the door.
“Dude, open up,” the voice outside pleads. It’s a male voice, but not one I recognize. Also, dude?
As I unlock my dorm room door on autopilot, my half-awake brain is screaming bad idea. But I’m in the middle of a crowded campus, so I can scream if necessary.
No sooner have I cracked the door open than a large guy pushes his way inside. I step back and blink…then blink again.
Is he naked?
“Thank fuck,” he mutters. He turns and shuts the door like he’s being pursued by zombies, then sighs in relief.
Now I have a perfect view of his ass, which is most definitely naked, as well as huge. Not huge in a horrible way, like a vast plumber’s crack appearing from under a sink, but rounded and muscular, with those dents on the side of each cheek that signify serious workouts. The mystery man turns to face me, and my gaze falls to a pair of shoes he’s holding in front of his package. That’s unfortunate, but they are quite large shoes.
My eyes travel up from the shoes to sharply defined abs, a sculpted chest, broad shoulders, and then…his face. Wow. He’s gorgeous. Hazel eyes with dark lashes, a square jaw, perfect skin. Even his light brown hair fans out in perfect waves around his face, despite having fled zombies or whatever.
A wave of heat flushes over my body and I swallow. That’s when it hits me. Of course—this is all a dream. And a spicy one at that.
My fantasy man frowns and whispers, “It’s not a dream.”
“Geez, did I say that out loud?” Or can he read my mind? And if that’s true, why aren’t we in bed already?
“Shhh. Keep your voice down,” he cautions. “Sorry for barging in like this, but I’m in trouble.”
“You lost all your clothes in a horrible accident?” I’m willing to play along, since this isn’t reality anyway.
“Ha ha,” he replies. “No, I was in the middle of—” He scrunches his face up. “Well, you know. With someone down the hall. And then her boyfriend calls to say he’s on his way up. So, I had to leave in a rush. Since he was coming from the other end of the hall, I went this way and ended up here.”
“I feel so chosen.” I’m distracted by being at eye level with that broad, muscular chest, with a tiny red maple leaf tattoo. Apparently my fantasy man is Canadian. That makes perfect sense—his nipples are exactly the colour of maple syrup. But we’re talking too much for a fantasy, so perhaps I can speed things up by leaning in to find out if those nipples taste like syrup too.
But before my tongue can taste anything, he explains, “Well, you are the RA, right? At the initiation seminar, they said that the resident assistants are the people to see if we run into problems in the dorms.”
Poof. My fantasy bursts like a soap bubble. This is not a sex dream, it’s my reality. I am the mother hen for a floor of freshmen here in the Humphrey Hall dorm. It’s a co-ed building, with girls and guys alike—guys like Big Ass Boy here. The fact that he’s the embodiment of my ideal man is only an unfortunate coincidence.
Now the sounds of an argument can be heard from the hallway.
I groan, then swirl my hair into a messy bun and pull my robe on over my pajamas. “I don’t know why I’m helping you. You’re not even one of my residents. Who were you sleeping with anyway?”
He pushes his hand through his layered hair and shakes his head. “Uh, I’m not great with names. Tessa? Gina? She’s blonde.”
Amazing. This guy is becoming less attractive every minute.
“Well, that certainly narrows it down.” I pocket my phone and put on my glasses. “Okay, Big Ass Boy, sit tight and I’ll let you know when you can leave.”
I edge around him and ease myself out the door. At the other end of the hallway, Jenny (not even close, buddy) is arguing with her angry boyfriend. They’re doing that thing where one person is hiss-whispering and the other—usually drunk—person is obnoxiously loud.
“Where the fuck is he?” her swaying boyfriend demands.
“You’re wasted, Toby. There isn’t anyone else here. Shut up or you’ll wake up everyone,” she hisses.
“Too late,” I say as I arrive on the scene.
“Oh, Andy. I’m so sorry about this.” Jenny looks relieved to see me.
I plant myself right in front of her beefy boyfriend. He scowls down at me, but his level of anger cannot compare to mine, someone abruptly awakened in the middle of the night to handle all this. I stare right into his bloodshot eyes.
“Toby, here’s your choice. You can either leave by yourself, or I can call security and have you escorted out.” I brandish my phone at him like it’s the hotline to a highly trained SWAT team instead of a tiny security guard named Ferdinand who works two jobs and is probably asleep right now. Ah, sleep.
Toby pokes me in the collarbone with an unsteady fingertip. Ouch.
“Who the fuck put you in charge?” he demands, then mutters something that sounds alarmingly like “bossy bitch.”
Oh, it’s on, Donkey Brain. I push the heel of my hand against his chest and shove him back. He sways and steps back.
“The second floor of Humphrey Hall is my turf, buddy. You’re not a resident and you need to go. Now.”
“Sssorry,” he slurs. “I didn’t mean to…” The rest of his apology gets lost in the empty recesses of his brain. “But I’m not gonna go until I find him. The asshole that she was cheating with.”
I motion down the hallway. “There’s no one here. Go home and sleep this off. I’m sure things will make more sense in the morning.”
He blinks his bloodshot eyes. “I wanna sleep in Jenny’s room.”
Someone pokes his head out of his door and suggests that we all “shut the fuck up so people can sleep.” Amen, brother.
I turn to Jenny. “Do you want him to leave?”
Surprisingly, she shakes her head. I’m certainly no expert at juggling multiple men, but it feels like welcoming your boyfriend into a room where you were just having sex with someone else is not the best idea. Especially when the other man’s clothes are still in there. And wouldn’t there be a lingering sex smell?
Yet, she takes Toby by the arm and drags him towards her open door. I follow and warn, “If there are any more disturbances, I will have to throw him out.” Yeah, right—me and what army?
Jenny flashes me an angelic smile, unaware that the proof she’s no saint is locked inside my room. Or maybe she’s used to men fighting over her.
“Toby will be good. Won’t you, babe?” she coos. They disappear behind her door, and I hear the lock click.
I sigh. It’s only September and I already hate my life. Now to get rid of Big Ass Boy and go back to bed. My adrenaline rush is over and I can barely keep my eyes open. Okay, one a-hole down, and one to go.
I fling open my door. Completely relaxed, my former dream man is lying on my bed reading. No longer naked, he’s now wearing a hoodie that belonged to my ex, and…
“Oh my god!” I look closer at the skintight black fabric stretched across his massive thighs. “Are those my leggings?”
He sits up and at least has the decency to look embarrassed. “Yeah. Sorry, but they were the only things that fit. Even your sweatpants are way too small. You’re pretty short. But I had to wear something.”
Unbelievable. I’m both relieved that he’s not naked and disappointed to miss seeing that cut physique one more time. A girl deserves some reward for slaying drunken dragons.
He swings his feet over the side of the bed and slips on his shoes. “Don’t worry, I’ll wash your clothes and bring them back.”
“Don’t bother. Unless you raided my underwear drawer for an extra-stretchy thong, you’re commando underneath those leggings, so feel free to burn them. I’ll never wear anything that has been in direct contact with your sweaty balls.” And I’ve been trying to return that hoodie for ages, so its disappearance would be a relief.
Big Ass Boy ignores the aspersions cast on his anatomy and glances towards the door. “How did it go out there?”
“Fine. It’s safe, so you can go now.” And I can crawl back into bed. I look longingly at my duvet, which now has a massive body dent in it. At least he didn’t rest his perspiring privates directly on my clean linens.
“Really? What happened?” he asks.
Oh, by all means, let’s chat. I let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, let’s see. The two of them were arguing in the hall but by now they’ve kissed and made up in her room.” More like screwed and made up.
He nods and waits expectantly, like he needs to hear all the details.
“The woman you were banging is Jenny, by the way, since you don’t seem to be into learning the names of your hookups. And her boyfriend is large, drunk, and angry.” I look this guy over once more. The fabric of the oversized sweatshirt is straining across his muscular chest, and the leggings look like they’re painted onto his tree-trunk thighs. “Although, I think you could have taken him.”
He raises both palms. “I’m a hockey player, but not an enforcer or anything.”
A hockey player. Of course. At Monarch College, hockey is the number one sport, and the team members strut around campus with maximum entitlement. This explains everything: he’s a party boy player with zero morals. Any attraction I felt earlier is completely cooled by finding out he’s a jock.
Since I haven’t responded with the requisite fawning, the conversation comes to a halt. When I look up, he’s assumed the sweet puppy-dog expression that men believe women like. Unfortunately for him, I’m a cat person.
Also, he won’t stop staring. While I’m attractive under normal circumstances, right now I’m wearing cotton pajamas, a threadbare velour robe, and smudged glasses. My messy bun is reaching new heights of messiness and there might be dried drool on my cheek. So why is he watching me so intently? Maybe he disapproves of the fact that I wake up like this, instead of like some fake beauty influencer.
Who cares? I’m not worried about this jerk’s opinion.
He continues to stare as he stands up. “So, we never really got a chance to introduce ourselves. I’m Jack Sinclair.” When he rises to his full height, he towers over me. He’s well over six feet tall, and I automatically take a step back.
“Oh, sorry.” He backs into the bed. “Wait, you’re not afraid of me, are you?”
Despite his size and lack of normal clothing, he has an aura of innocence.
I shrug. “No. But most women don’t appreciate a naked guy barging into their room in the middle of the night.” Who I am kidding? Most women would appreciate this particular Adonis appearing in their bedroom at any time of the day or night.
Jack offers a shy smile. “In my defence, I thought you were a guy.”
At my skeptical look, he offers, “The name thing on your door? It says Andy Robson, A-N-D-Y. Girls usually spell it A-N-D‑I.”
“Thank you so much for the gendered grammar lesson.” This continues to be one of the weirdest conversations I’ve ever had. Why does he want to have a friendly chat at 2:30 AM? My bed is calling, and it’s time to be direct. “Could you leave now?”
“Okay, sorry. Andy, I really appreciate the rescue tonight. I know it’s way beyond your job description.”
Finally, someone appreciates everything I’ve done tonight. Maybe he’s not a total jerk after all. I give him a half-smile.
He beams back, then makes serious eye contact. “You know, I just broke up with someone too. Someone I’d been going out with for a long time.”
For a long moment, I can’t even process his words. My breakup with Bryce is something I’ve only discussed with my best friends. I don’t share the worst moments of my life with complete strangers. And to have Jack mention it so unexpectedly—even in his empathetic way—feels like a punch to the gut. I wrap my hands around my stomach.
He places a large hand on my back. “Andy, are you okay?”
But—how does he even know?
My eyes fall on the slim black notebook lying crookedly on my bedside table. It takes a long moment to process his crime.
I gasp. “Oh my god! You read my journal?”
He looks between me and the notebook and winces. “Is that what it was? Well, yeah, I did. Sorry…but it was so interesting. And also, um, hot. You’re a really good writer.”
He offers a weak smile, like I’m supposed to be thankful for the compliment.
A hot flush of anger spreads over my entire body. I try to shove him away, but he’s so solid that he hardly budges.
“I cannot believe you,” I hiss. “First you root through my entire wardrobe and then you choose to read my personal thoughts. In a room full of books! What is wrong with you?”
His eyes widen and he raises his hands in apology. “Nothing! I’m really sorry, Andy. The book was right beside the bed, and it didn’t say ‘Private’ or anything, so I didn’t think…” He trails off and looks at me worriedly, but his fake sincerity only makes me angrier.
“Get out. I’m counting to three. If you’re not gone by then, I’m going to let Jenny’s boyfriend know you’re here.”
He reaches out to touch my shoulder, but I recoil and he drops his hand. “Out,” I repeat.
He sighs. “Okay. I’m going, I’m going.”
With a final backwards look like a kicked puppy, he leaves.
The second he’s through the doorway I shut the door behind him. Unfortunately, the dorm’s metal doors are impossible to slam, but I push mine firmly shut. I wish I had multiple locks to bolt, noisily and dramatically, so he could hear how much separation I want between us. Instead, I watch through the peephole to make sure he actually leaves.
He walks gingerly, probably worried that the spandex fibres of my leggings are going to give up their battle and explode into shreds like the Hulk’s clothes. When Jack skirts Jenny’s door like it’s radioactive, I can’t help but laugh. My anger dissipates. What do I care if someone I’m never going to see again has read my journal?
When he finally disappears, I shed my robe and glasses and collapse onto the bed. I close my eyes, but my brain is too wired to get back to sleep. For the billionth time this year, I wish I could have afforded my own place off campus.
Want to read the rest of Hockey 101? Of course, you do. Here’s the link to get the book.