Coach’s car was already parked off to the side when Claire and I arrived at the administrative center which had Dean Chiffon’s name centered on the sign in gold lettering. Claire’s door of her rusty Toyota screeched loudly as I shut mine and walked up beside her.
She carried herself well. Her determined chin was pulled up high, showing off the soft curve of her jaw. Her hands were a little shaky as she pushed a couple of loose pieces of hair away, showing off the smallest diamond studs in her ears.
“You nervous or something?” I asked, curious as to why she was so tense. Maybe it was just her personality, but when I watched her at The Bex, she seemed relaxed—and a little mesmerizing, if I were being totally honest.
When I had walked into The Bex, I spotted her before the door even shut behind me. She was talking with one of her tables after placing their food down, and there was a softness that came with her interactions. She smiled as she talked, and then she winked at the woman, and it somehow had my feet moving toward her as if they had their own agenda.
“I’m fine.”
Her answer was clipped as I opened the door for her. She walked in first, and I followed closely behind. Coach’s gruff laugh snagged my attention, and I suddenly took the lead, letting Claire follow me the rest of the way.
I rapped my knuckles on the dean’s open door, and both men turned their attention to me, faces lighting up like a scoreboard. “Theo. Come on in. Coach Lennon just sat down. We were talking about the schedule of games this year.”
“Ah, yeah. It’s going to be tough, but I’m confident.”
The wrinkles along the dean’s face deepened as he laughed, but his laugh quickly faded when Claire stepped in behind me. Her chin was tilted down, and her eyes were locked on the shiny floor. I switched my attention back and forth between her and the dean, and my thoughts began spinning.
Did it suddenly just get cold in here?
My question was, who had the vendetta with who and why?
“Claire.” The dean nodded to her, and her lips smashed together as her arms crossed over her chest. I took note that she stayed by the door instead of sitting down beside me in the other chair at the foot of his desk.
“So,” Coach started, “the reason I called for the meeting is because there has been a little bit of a mix-up.”
“A mix-up?” the dean asked, glancing at me for a moment before moving back to Coach.
I leaned forward and took charge. “Admissions messed up Claire’s name, and they have her as my roommate in Dorothy Hall.”
“Ah.” Dean Chiffon placed his elbows on his tidy desk and steepled his fingers together. “Yes. I am aware of the issue. I hadn’t realized it was your room, Theo.”
“So, it suddenly makes a difference that it’s his room? But when I had a problem with it, it didn’t matter?”
Claire had a point, but I stayed silent as she stole the room with her sudden surge of confidence.
“You didn’t come to me with the problem, Claire.” Dean Chiffon placed his hands on his desk and slowly moved his attention to her. “Although, I do understand why you didn’t come to me, and I am pleased that you didn’t try to use your mother’s problem-solving skills.”
Claire’s face flared with heat, and I could hear her teeth grinding against one another. Well, this is getting interesting.
“You can see why this is an issue.” Coach’s sudden need to get this over with was abrupt. “He can’t room with a female—especially one like her.”
“‘Like her’? What does that mean?” she asked, stepping forward and looking Coach directly in the face.
I was wondering the same thing. Where is he going with this?
“Well, sweetheart. You’d be quite the distraction, I’m afraid.” His eyes raked down her body quickly before averting his gaze.
“Distraction?”
“Coach,” I warned.
I turned my attention back to the dean and tried to prevent where the conversation was headed. “Is there anything we can do about this? Are there any rooms available for either of us to change?”
“There aren’t any rooms available according to admissions. They brought the issue to me to make sure I was aware, but it’s, unfortunately, just one of those things.”
Coach leaned forward and looked at Claire. “Why don’t you move off campus?”
“Um…” Claire’s lip disappeared beneath her teeth as she nibbled on it.
I felt sorry for her. I did. Three sets of eyes were on her, and I could see the apprehension there as she thought over what to say and what was to come.
“She can’t afford it.” The dean cleared his throat. “Trust me.” A rush of anger skimmed over my skin at the way he belittled her. It wasn’t necessarily about her, per se, but the fact that he’d look down on someone for not being filthy rich rubbed me the wrong way.
“You know what”—I stood up, feeling agitated with the air in the room—“it’s fine.”
“The hell it is,” Coach said.
“With all due respect,” I started, trying to ease into the conversation with my coach, who quite literally held my future in his hands. “I’m a little offended that you think I’d let a female distract me. In the last three years, have I ever been so distracted…”—by pussy is what I wanted to say, but I kept that to myself—“over a girl that I made a wrong move on the ice? Or lost a game, for that matter?”
“Well—”
“Please don’t force me to move off campus.” We all turned to Claire, and although she appeared confident, I saw the way her blue eyes shined with a gloss that wasn’t there before. “The dean is right. I can’t afford it.” Her gaze hardened as she looked over at Coach. “But you’re wrong if you think I’ll be a distraction. Jocks aren’t my type. In fact”—she looked at me for a brief second—“I despise them.”
Silence stretched around us, and after a few long seconds, Claire threw her hands up. “If it’s really that big of a deal, I’ll just live in my freakin’ car. Honestly, I’d do just about anything to get out of this conversation.”
Her back was turned to all of us as she left the office, and her silent departure thankfully cooled my senses before I said something I regretted. Coach and Dean Chiffon were still trying to brainstorm, wondering if they could somehow find a way to get me my own apartment so I didn’t have to room with Claire. It wasn’t that big of a deal. Sure, it would be nice to have my own space and room with another hockey player, but they didn’t know me at all if they thought I would allow something so minor to cause me to throw away my future.
“You heard her.” I stood up, hoping to catch Claire before her junky Toyota sped off in the distance while dispersing a thick aroma of gasoline in the air. “Jocks aren’t her type, and to be honest, she isn’t my type either.” I peered down at Coach and his relaxed posture in the chair next to mine. “And even if she was, do you think I’d let her ruin my future? You know that’s not me, Coach. I’ll see you tomorrow at practice. Goodnight, Dean.”
Fucking asshole, I thought to myself as I left his office. Ridiculing someone because of their economic status was pathetic. I was raised to be non-judgmental, and if the dean would pull his head out of his ass, he’d know that I wasn’t in the highest economic group either.
The cool air of the evening came rushing toward me as I pulled the door open. “Claire, hold up,” I said, rushing down the cobblestone steps. Her back was to me, and her phone was up to her ear.
I slowed my steps as I approached her car, realizing that she didn’t hear me. She was talking a mile a minute, but I turned my head and caught every word leaving her mouth.
“I could die right now.” There was a short pause, and I assumed whoever she was talking to had said something, because a clipped laugh left her that lingered with sarcasm. “Of course he brought it up. Leave it to my mother to try and seduce the dean to pay for my tuition. I was so embarrassed.” Her voice rose as she gulped in a breath of air. “And somehow, my mom was able to make me feel guilty for not appreciating her selflessness.”
Shocked at what I just heard climbing from her mouth, I took a step forward and cursed the loose gravel that crunched underneath my shoe. Claire quickly spun around, and the gloss in her eye from before was now ice, and if she didn’t already hate me, she definitely hated me now. It was a little entertaining when she glared at me, though. It riled me up for some reason.
Her phone call ended a second later, and she opened her creaky car door and threw her phone inside, as if it were to blame for the situation we found ourselves in. “Did you find a solution? Or should I go ahead and grab a pillow and blanket and make a bed in the backseat?”
Placing my hands in the pockets of my jeans, I shrugged, holding back a cheeky grin. “That depends.”
Her glare narrowed. “On…?”
“On if you snore.”
Her small nose wrinkled, and I winked at her. “See ya at home, Bryant.”
An exasperated breath caused a cloud of mist to float from her parted lips, and I smiled deviously as I walked back to my car.
