THE HOCKEY CAPTAIN'S ROOMMATE DEAL

Chapter 2

Emma’s Pov

If someone told me that living with a hockey player felt like surviving a war zone every single day, I would have laughed. But after just three days with Dylan Whitaker, I wasn't laughing at all. I was ready to pack my bags and sleep on a park bench.

I tried my best to keep a normal routine. I set my alarm, laid out my study books on my desk, and tried to pretend that the arrogant giant taking up half my life didn't exist. But pretending Dylan didn't exist was impossible.

He treated the dorm room like his own personal royal palace. His expensive hockey gear smelled like old sweat and was tossed everywhere, his phone was constantly ringing with calls from his teammates, and he walked around shirtless like he owned the entire building.

The real war started on a Thursday night.

I had a huge biology exam the next morning, so I went to bed early at ten o’clock. I needed at least eight hours of sleep to pass this test. But around two in the morning, the door flew open with a loud bang.

"Let's go! That party was legendary!" someone shouted.

Dylan stumbled into the room, laughing loudly with two of his hockey buddies. The lights flickered on, burning my sleepy eyes. I sat up in bed, pulling my blanket around me, and glared at the three giant guys standing in the middle of our tiny room.

"Do you know what time it is?" I yelled, my voice cracking from sleep. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"

One of the guys, a tall blonde with a big grin, whistled. "Whoa, Whitaker. You didn't tell us you had a little firecracker living with you."

Dylan rubbed the back of his neck, looking annoyed, but he waved his friends out the door. "Get out, guys. I'll see you tomorrow."

When the door clicked shut, Dylan turned to me and rolled his eyes. "Relax, princess. It's just college. People stay up late."

"I have a big exam in five hours!" I screamed, throwing a pillow at him. It bounced right off his chest, and he just smirked.

"Well, maybe you should study better during the day," he teased, walking over to his bed.

"I hate you," I whispered.

"The feeling is mutual, roommate," he called out, turning off the lights.

The next morning, payback time arrived. Dylan had a massive morning practice and needed total silence to sleep in before hitting the ice. So, at seven o'clock, right after my alarm went off, I turned my laptop speaker all the way up and played my most annoying review podcast at top volume.

Dylan groaned from across the room, pulling his pillow tightly over his head. "Turn that off!" he yelled, his voice thick with sleep.

"Can't hear you! I need to study!" I shouted back, smiling as I flipped through my flashcards.

By the time I left for my exam, Dylan looked like a thundercloud ready to strike.

Later that afternoon, I ran into Dylan and his friends in the campus cafeteria. I was sitting at a corner table with my lunch when a guy with friendly brown eyes and a wide smile slid into the chair across from me without asking.

"Hey. You're Emma, right?" he asked.

I blinked at him, holding a forkful of salad. "Who are you?"

"I'm Jace. Jace Carter. Dylan's best friend and assistant captain." Jace laughed, looking over my shoulder toward where Dylan was standing with the rest of the team. "I just wanted to say thank you. You're the first person on this campus who actually puts Dylan in his place. It’s hilarious."

I crossed my arms. "He drives me crazy, Jace. I'm ready to commit a crime."

"Oh, I know," Jace grinned, leaning closer. "Trust me, I watch him. The guy never pays attention to anyone, but ever since you moved in, he talks about you all the time. He's totally obsessed."

"Obsessed with hating me, maybe," I muttered.

Just then, Dylan walked over, looking furious. He glared at Jace. "Leave her alone, Carter. Stop bothering my roommate."

"I was just being friendly, captain," Jace laughed, standing up and walking away to join the others.

Dylan sat down at the table next to me, picking up his phone just as it buzzed. He looked at the screen, and his whole face tightened. He stood up abruptly and walked toward the quiet corner of the cafeteria to take the call.

I couldn't help it; my ears perked up. Even from a few feet away, I heard Dylan's angry voice echo off the walls.

"I told you, Dad, I am not doing it!" Dylan snapped into the phone. "I don't care about the board meeting, and I definitely don't care about the plans! Just leave me alone!"

There was a long pause as the person on the other end yelled back. Dylan’s jaw clenched so hard I thought it might break.

"No, I won't be there this weekend. Goodbye."

Dylan hung up the phone hard, breathing heavily. When he turned around, he caught me staring right at him. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger.

"Do you make a hobby out of minding other people's business?" he barked, walking past my table.

"I wasn't doing anything!" I called out, but he was already gone.

Later that night, the dorm was quiet. Dylan was in the small bathroom taking a shower, and I was sitting at my desk trying to finish an essay. Something shiny caught my eye from the edge of Dylan's open backpack on the floor.

Curiosity got the better of me. I walked over and looked inside. Sitting right at the top was a small, dark velvet box. My fingers reached out before my brain could stop them. I popped the box open, and my breath caught in my throat.

Inside sat a massive, sparkling diamond engagement ring. It looked like it cost more than my entire college tuition.

"What do you think you're doing?"

I jumped three feet in the air and spun around. Dylan was standing right behind me in the doorway, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. His dark hair was dripping wet, and his bright blue eyes were blazing with fury.

"I—I wasn't doing anything!" I stammered, dropping the velvet box back into his bag like it was burning hot. "I just tripped, and my hand fell—"

"Get away from my things, Emma," Dylan snarled, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low whisper. He stepped closer, towering over me in the tiny space. "My personal life is none of your business. Do you understand me?"

"Relax! I don't care about your stupid ring or your secret rich-guy problems!" I shot back, pushing past him to get to my side of the room. "Keep your stuff locked up if you don't want people looking at it!"

Dylan didn't answer. He turned his back on me and slammed his backpack shut, tossing it onto his bed.

The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. We both sat on our respective beds, refusing to look at each other, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Suddenly, the sharp buzz of Dylan's phone broke the quiet.

Dylan reached across the sheets, picked up his phone, and looked at the screen. I watched as the color completely drained from his face. He slowly opened the notification text message.

I saw his fingers tighten around the phone until his knuckles turned white. He looked up across the room, his eyes locking onto mine with a look of pure panic.