Shutout | Complete

Chapter 4

What a morning.

Exhaustion caused my brain to fog over–so much in fact that I almost missed the hall that led to the dorm room I shared with my roommate, Cali. I couldn't help but laugh at myself. How was it that I could stay up all hours of the night and still function enough to go to class, but waking up a couple hours earlier than normal and my whole day was thrown off? Talk about not being a morning person.

I slid the key into the lock, clicking it open. A warm vanilla scent greeted me the moment I stepped through the door. Between Cali's sugary sweet candles and her affinity for coffee, not a day went by that our room didn't smell like the most delicious bakery. Dropping my bag by my desk with a dull thump, I slid off boots along with my coat, hanging it on the rack behind the door.

"Hey," Cali called out to me without peering away from her laptop. "Did you find your bracelet?"

All I saw was the back of her brunette head. The long tresses swooped down, brushing the top of the desk chair she was perched on. Since I had met her in August of that year, I had been envious of how effortless Cali was about her hair. It had a gorgeous shine and dried in a loose, beach-y wave without much interference on her end. I wasn't lucky enough to have those kinds of genetics. I remembered trying to give up my heat tools for a month to better my personal hair care. That lasted about two weeks before I was clutching my curling iron like it was my life line.

"I did," I sighed as I flopped down on my unmade bed. "The goalie had it."

Cali turned her head to glance at me with raised eyebrows. "How did he end up with it?"

"Apparently he found it on the floor before the game," I explained, reaching for the romance novel I had laying on the nightstand next to my bed. "After they won last night he held on to it because he thought it was his new good luck charm."

Cali turned back to the screen, her mouth tilting up in amusement. "He told you that?"

"He did," I said, flipping through the pages. "Right after he bought me coffee this morning."

"That was sweet of him." Her big, brown eyes were back on me. The ends of her fingers went slack over the keyboard of her laptop, giving me her full attention. "I thought you don't date hockey players?"

"I don't," I assured her. "He was at Rise n' Grind this morning and offered to pay for my breakfast. After he returned my bracelet he tried to tell me that he thought I was the reason they won their game last night."

Cali let out a little giggle. "That sounds like something straight out of a romance novel."

"That's exactly how I knew he was full of shit."

"Who knows," Cali's eyes flashed with mischief. "Maybe he was being serious?"

I scoffed, finding the paperclip I used to mark the last page I read. "Yeah, and I'm not severely allergic to shellfish."

"You would know best," Cali said, brushing some hair behind her ears. "Can't say I've ever dated a hockey player."

I waved off her curiosity. "Take it from experience. Waste of time."

"They can't all be that bad."

"Maybe," I muttered, eyes scanning the page for where I had left off last night before I had fallen asleep. Like most nights, it had woken up with the pages spread open across my face. "But I sure as hell ain't trying to find out."

"Fair enough," she replied. "You know, for someone who loves romance novels you sure are pessimistic when it comes to finding love for yourself."

I coughed out a bemused laugh. "It's because of them that my standards are impossibly high. Do you know what I love about men in romance novels?" I asked, turning my head to look at my roommate. "They're written by women. Men in real life just can't compete and therefore my expectations are never met."