THE HOCKEY CAPTAIN'S ROOMMATE DEAL

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Emma’s Pov

"How much money do you need to pay off your tuition for the rest of the year?"

Dylan’s words hung in the air like a heavy storm cloud. I froze, my fingers hovering over my laptop keyboard. I stared at him, wondering if the hockey pucks to the head had finally scrambled his brain.

"Excuse me?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Dylan pushed himself off the doorframe and took a few steps closer to my desk. He didn't look arrogant or teasing like he usually did. His bright blue eyes looked tired, almost desperate, and his hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides.

"You heard me," Dylan said softly. "I need a favor. A massive favor. And in return, I'll pay your tuition, your dorm fees, your books—everything. You won't have to worry about money for the rest of college."

My heart hammered against my ribs. It sounded like a trap. A cruel joke meant to humiliate the scholarship girl. I narrowed my eyes and stood up to face him.

"What kind of sick game are you playing, Whitaker?" I snapped, crossing my arms. "I'm not for sale. Whatever crazy scheme you cooked up, count me out."

"It's not a game," he groaned, running a hand through his dark hair. He let out a long breath. "My parents are forcing me into an engagement with a girl I can't stand. They're going to make a public announcement this weekend. The only way they'll back off is if I already have a serious girlfriend. I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend."

I stared at him, my mouth dropping open. "Are you out of your mind? Me? Date you? Fake date you?"

"It's temporary," Dylan pleaded, taking another step closer. "Just until the pressure blows over. Please, Emma. You're the only person on this campus who doesn't care about my family's money or my hockey status. You actually look at me like I'm a real person."

I wanted to say no. I wanted to laugh in his face, slam my laptop shut, and tell him to find someone else. But my bank account flashed in my mind—the unpaid textbook fees, the stress of working three part-time jobs just to stay afloat. It was a terrifying offer.

"I need to think about it," I whispered, looking away.

That night, my new college friends dragged me to the biggest university party of the semester. The house was loud, crowded, and smelled like spilled soda and cheap snacks. Music thumped through the floorboards, and red cups were scattered everywhere. I stood near the kitchen counter, sipping a cup of punch, regretting every life choice that brought me here.

"Well, well, look who decided to join the living," a voice said beside me.

I turned and saw Dylan standing there in a black t-shirt that made his broad shoulders look even wider. He looked around the room, his jaw tight.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Hiding," Dylan muttered honestly, grabbing a cup of water. He leaned close to me, his shoulder brushing mine. "Look, stay near me tonight. My teammates are planning to corner me about the engagement news, and I don't have the energy to deal with their teasing."

I rolled my eyes, but I didn't pull away. "Fine. But only because those guys are annoying."

As we walked through the crowded living room, a few of Dylan's teammates spotted us. Jace Carter grinned widely, nudging the guy next to him.

"Hey, look, it's the captain and his favorite roommate," Jace called out, laughing. "Didn't know you two brought your domestic disputes to parties."

Dylan didn't snap back like he usually did. Instead, he wrapped a heavy, warm arm around my waist, pulling me firmly against his side. His touch sent a strange, unexpected shiver down my spine.

"Shut up, Carter," Dylan said, his voice smooth and calm. "Just let us enjoy the night."

Jace raised his hands in surrender, laughing as he walked away. But the way Dylan held me close, so natural and protective, made the surrounding crowd whisper. People stared at us, their eyes wide.

After a few minutes, we slipped outside onto the quiet back patio, away from the loud music. The cool night air hit my face, making me feel a little more alive. Dylan leaned against the wooden railing, staring up at the dark sky.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his hand. He looked down at the screen, and the small bit of relaxation on his face vanished. Another text from his father. Dylan let out a shaky breath, his fingers gripping the phone so hard I thought it might crack.

"They won't stop," Dylan whispered, his voice cracking with real pain. "They map out every single second of my life. My career, my marriage, who I'm allowed to be friends with. Sometimes I feel like I'm just a trophy for them to show off."

I looked at him, seeing past the arrogant hockey captain mask. Underneath all the fame and money, he was just trapped.

"You know," I said softly, stepping closer to the railing beside him, "I came to Blackwood for the exact opposite reason. My family doesn't have money. Everything I have, I had to fight for. I came here because I wanted to build a life that belongs entirely to me. No one else."

Dylan turned his head, his bright blue eyes locking onto mine in the dim porch light. There was no anger in his gaze anymore. Just quiet understanding.

"Must be nice," he murmured. "To choose your own path."

"Then choose it," I said bravely. "If you don't want this engagement, stop letting them write your script."

Dylan stared at me for a long time, the silence between us feeling heavier than any of our arguments. Slowly, a small, genuine smile touched the corner of his lips.

"Maybe I just started," he whispered.