I wake up with a start, a thrashing pulse in my temples and a sheen of sweat across my forehead. A symphony of clashing and banging comes from the other side of my bedroom door, letting me know that one of my roommates is already up and fucking around in the small kitchen we share.
When I was prepping for my move to Vancouver, I met with the Saint’s head Coach to go over last-minute details, and he mentioned a couple of the players were looking for a roommate. It was a no brainer decision to reach out to my new teammates and ask for the spot, considering that living off a stipend from a WHL team doesn’t exactly leave me with a bulging wallet and a lot of options. After a quick meeting Matt and Braden, it was as close to a match made in Heaven as I was going to get.
The only downside to living with them is Braden and his obsession with getting and keeping his dick wet.
A few curse words bounce off my bedroom door, forcing a rough chuckle up my throat. Squinting, I drag my palm over my face and sit up. Sunlight streaks in through the crack in my curtains, so it must be well into the morning. 9:15, the clock on my bedside table reads. I have an hour until I have to be at the gym for training.
With my eyes half-open, I crawl out of bed and slip on a pair of sweatpants before leaving my room. Like I guessed, Braden’s trying to butter a toaster waffle in nothing but his boxers. I don’t notice the naked girl sitting on the counter until I reach the fridge.
I don’t spare either of them a glance as I open the door and grab the jug of orange juice.
“You’re roommates with Oakley Hutton?” the girl asks quietly. Braden makes a pained noise.
“Does it matter? And don’t flick me,” he grumbles.
Turning from the fridge, I move to the cupboard to grab a glass and say, “I thought we all agreed on not letting your company prance around the apartment naked, Braden.”
Once I’ve poured myself some juice, I turn and face both of them. Braden’s leaning a hip against the counter, grinning like the cat who got the cream, while his friend is still splayed out on the counter, her cheeks flushed but not from embarrassment. She seems far too confident in herself to realize placing her bare ass on somebody else’s countertop is more gross than it is sexy.
My stare shifts to her, doing a quick sweep of her nakedness when she makes a purr-like sound and plants both hands flat behind her, pushing her chest up and out. “Should I get down?” she asks, tilting her head and smiling.
I lift a brow and bring the glass of juice to my lips, drinking it slowly. Her eyelids droop as her gaze falls to my throat, watching my Adam’s apple bob with each swallow. If it weren’t for the liquid in my mouth, I would laugh at how easy it is for me to turn her on, considering she was just in bed with a different guy.
“I would prefer it if you did, yes. But I’ll leave it up to my roomie to tell you what to do,” I say. Setting my now empty glass in the sink, I slant Braden an annoyed look. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready to go to the gym, just like you should be doing.”
I almost run to the bathroom in my haste to get out of there. As soon as I shut the bathroom door, I make sure to lock it before stripping out of my pants and starting the shower. The team is supposed to meet at the arena for a workout before lunch, and if either Braden or I are late, I have no doubt Matt will ream our asses.
He might not be captain, but he’s one hell of a leader. You might not be able to tell past his normally chill attitude, but he can be a real hard-ass when it comes to hockey.
I bend over the sink and stare into the mirror, scratching at the stubble speckled along my jaw. I’ve been way too lazy to shave lately, too busy working my ass off at the rink.
When I first got to Vancouver, I wasn’t sure entirely what to expect of the Saints, but it only took one practice for me to see first-hand just how good they are. They might not be the best junior team I’ve ever seen, but they’re pretty close. If I’m going to have a chance in hell of standing out to scouts, I have to keep working. Hard.
With a shake of my head, I turn and step into the tub, letting the scorching water burn away my thoughts. I shower and brush my teeth quickly. I’m barely back in my room when my mom’s ringtone sings from the bed. Her gentle voice flows through the speakers before I’ve even brought the phone to my ear.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” she sings. I grin. “How are you doing? You’re still coming home next weekend, right?”
How she manages to be this high energy in the morning is beyond me. I guess it’s a mom thing.
“Morning, Ma. I’m good. A little tired, but that’s nothing new. And yes, I’m still coming. Is Gracie excited?”
Gracie has been doing ballet since she was seven, and one of her biggest performances is coming up. It’s all I’ve been hearing about during our phone calls for the past month. I wouldn’t miss it. I would never hear the end of it if I did.
“You never have been a morning person,” she teases as I’m hit with a strong sense of longing. I miss her. “I don’t think she can be more excited. It means the world to her that you will be here, honey.”
I tuck my phone between my ear and shoulder and slide on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. After I’m dressed, I grab my gym bag and rush to the front door, pleasantly surprised to see Braden lounging on the couch alone, waiting for me.
“I wouldn’t miss it, Ma,” I say. Braden looks at me, then points to the door. I nod. “I’ll be home Saturday morning.”
Braden gets up and grabs his bag from beside the couch before heading out. I follow after him, locking the door.
“Okay, sweetie. I just wanted to check in.”
“I’m glad you did. I miss you guys.”
Mom sighs heavily. There’s a brief pause before she whispers, “We miss you, Oakley. So much.”
Slipping my keys into the pocket of my sweatpants, I say, “Don’t cry, Mom. I’ll be home in no time.”
I can almost imagine her hand slicing through the air, waving off my concern.
“Yeah, yeah. Well, I’ll let you go. Call your sister this week, please.”
“Will do. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I take the stairs down two at a time before pushing open the front doors and walking outside. Braden is already waiting for me beside my truck, his thumbs flying across his phone screen. He looks up at me when I round the front and unlock the driver’s door. “You’re driving. My car’s at the shop.”
With a nod, I quickly slip inside the truck and reach across to the lock on the passenger door before popping it up.
Braden joins me inside a second later. He’s a huge guy—even compared to me—so I’m not surprised when he has to adjust the seat all the way back so that his legs aren’t crushed by the dash.
“Everything good?” he asks when I start the engine and pull out onto the street. The arena is only ten minutes away from the house, so we might actually have a shot at making it there on time.
“Yeah. I’m going home next weekend. My mom was just checking in.”
“Getting tired of us already?”
“Of you? Absolutely.”
He roars a laugh. “Fair enough. I did try to get Vanessa to leave before you got up, by the way, but she said she was starving, and I’m not that much of an asshole to throw her out with an empty stomach.”
I roll my eyes. “Right. You big softie. I’m sure it had nothing to do with her nakedness and the hopes of another quick round before training.”
“Definitely not,” he replies, grinning.
“Where did you meet her, anyway? I didn’t even hear you get in last night.”
“Remer’s party. No clue how we got back to the apartment, though.”
“You didn’t drive there, right?” My muscles bunch beneath my clothes. Panic seizes me.
“Fuck no,” he grunts, eyeing me curiously. “I was horny, not stupid.”
I relax slightly and nod. “Okay. Good.”
“I wrapped my cock up, too, in case you were curious about that, Dad.”
“Fuck off.”
His brash laugh pierces the air. With a shake of my head, I turn up the radio and settle into a comfortable silence for the rest of the drive.
