Roommate with my ex -Boyfriends captain

Chapter One Wren’s POV “Fake date me. Be my girlfriend, and in return, you get free accommodation. Plus, you get to metaphorically punch Trevor in the face for breaking your heart.” Let’s back up a bit, shall we? You might be wondering how on earth I went from dragging a busted canvas bag across state lines to surprise my online boyfriend, to suddenly being propositioned by his six-foot-two hockey captain of a best friend. Story time. Because less than an hour ago, I was convinced I was the luckiest girl alive. My best friend, Lexie, had warned me. She’d sat on my unmade bed two weeks ago, aggressively biting off a pretzel stick while I packed my bags, telling me to think it through. Her exact argument was that her gut didn’t trust him, largely because, according to Lexie, every guy named Trevor in the history of the universe turned out to be a f*****g douchebag. I laughed it off. I told her she was being cynical. This was Trevor. The guy who had literally stayed on FaceTime with me for seven hours straight until sunrise, telling me dumb jokes and humming off-key songs to distract me during one of my brutal menstrual cramps. A guy who spent eight months remembering my favorite tea and checking in between his morning skates didn’t fit into the douchebag category. Three months into our relationship, he’d casually floated the idea of me transferring out to Elite Ridge Academy. “Imagine us in the same zip code, Wren. You could live with me.” At the time, I told him it was impossible. My parents were strict, traditional, and there was zero chance they’d let their only daughter pack up for California without a solid academic excuse. So the conversation died. Or so I assumed. I spent the next five months killing myself to make it happen. I pushed through extra credit, applied for a merit-based transfer grant, and worked night shifts until the approval letter arrived. I just operated on the belief that his offer was still waiting for me on the other side. Why wouldn’t it be? Which brings us back to the lot outside the Elite Ridge ice complex. My sneakers hit the ground with a crunch, my duffel digging into my collarbone, my fingers completely frozen. Inside, the building was vibrating with the roar of a packed house. Third period, three minutes left on the clock. His exact words yesterday had been, I wish you were here to see this one, Wren. It’s the biggest game of my life. Well. Surprise, babe. I flashed my new transfer ID at the turnstile, dodged the students lingering near the pretzel stand, and slipped into the arena just as a deafening blast rolled over the crowd. I'm a dad’s girl through and through. My father lived and breathed hockey, and while other kids got bedtime stories, I grew up sitting on the living room carpet watching game tape with him, learning how plays developed before the puck even touched the blade. So while the rest of the student body was screaming its lungs out, my eyes went straight to the flow of the ice. The visiting team had pulled their goalie, scrambling into a desperate offensive push, but they left a gaping hole along the far boards. Right on cue, number twenty-one read the lane, intercepted the puck, and swept it down the sheet into the empty net. Game over. Championship secured. “Yes!” I yelled, leaning over the handrail, clapping until my palms stung. “Trevor!” The home bench emptied into a dogpile of crimson jerseys, gloves flying into the air. I was laughing, an embarrassed prickle of happy tears welling in my eyes as I squeezed down the aisle toward the glass. Trevor broke away from the celebration, his helmet dangling from his fingers, dark hair soaked with sweat, wearing that wide, cocky grin I’d stared at through a phone screen for months. He was skating straight toward my tunnel. My stomach did a frantic flip. I raised both arms, waving frantically over the glass. “Trev! Over here!” He didn’t look up. His eyes didn’t even skim my face. He glided right past where I stood, pushing open the plastic gate just ten feet away. Before I could even drop my hands, a girl stepped out of the tunnel to meet him. She looked like she belonged on an elite fashion billboard. Sleek platinum blonde hair spilling over a custom crimson wool coat, holding a laminated VIP badge between manicured nails. Trevor didn’t hesitate. He dropped his stick, slid forward on his blades, and caught her around the waist, lifting her clear off the rubber mat. She threw her arms around his neck, laughing, and when he pulled back, he didn’t give her a polite hug. He kissed her right on the mouth. His bare hand slid possessively around the curve of her hip like he’d done it a thousand times before. Around me, the student section lost its collective mind. Phones went up everywhere. People were squealing, cheering, recording the whole thing. The world just went completely silent, that high-pitched ringing buzzing in the back of my skull. My hand stayed frozen in midair. My lungs refused to take in oxygen. I tapped the sleeve of a girl next to me who was filming them with a grin. “Excuse me… who is that with him?” The girl looked at me like I had two heads. “Uh, Delphine? They’ve been the couple on campus since freshman year. People would riot if they didn’t get that post-win kiss. Where have you been living, under a rock?” Since freshman year. Not a recent fling. Not a misunderstanding. My mind spun in nauseating circles. Why would he tell me to transfer three months in? Why ask me to live with him? Did he just collect girls in different area codes for the thrill of having someone wait on him? My knees wobbled. I backed away from the railing, bumping into people who didn’t even notice I was there, my fingers dragging the strap of my canvas bag across the rubber floor. I didn’t have an apartment key waiting for me. The campus housing department was locked until Monday morning. I had drained my savings on the travel ticket and deposit because I believed every sweet, lying promise he made through a six-inch screen. I was completely stranded in an unfamiliar town, while my boyfriend played house with the girl he’d belonged to the entire time. I pushed through the emergency doors, the biting night air smacking my face. The tears finally spilled over, stinging hot against my freezing skin as I sank onto the stone steps near the turnaround. I was such an i***t. Lexie was right. Every Trevor is a walking red flag. My coat pocket gave a violent buzz against my leg. I pulled out my phone with trembling hands, the glare of the screen hurting my eyes. A notification sat at the top of the display. Trevor (Just now): Made it look good for you, babe.