Chapter 9: Roommates

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Brayden

I woke up with the events of the night playing back in my head. Dancing, talking, drinking. Brooks and I were the last one's in the bar. That's what happens when you start talking and soon enough, it's 2:30 and you're getting kicked out of the bar. I was just happy I remembered to get her number this time.

Brooks and I have been texting nonstop since last night. After the great night that we had, I couldn't help but text her as soon as I got home, and again this morning when I woke up. Although we are both under the impression that this relationship is simply platonic, Brooks Ellis is on my mind every second of every day. Even if it is just as friends. If I still get to be around her, and talk to, I'll take anything. I was hoping that last night, maybe we could finish what we started at Wild Bills', but when she refrained from kissing me, after all the moves I was pulling on her, I figured it was probably better to keep this friendly. All in due time though.

As much as I can't stop thinking about fucking Brooks, I am suddenly under the realization that I simply just like being around her. I have warmed up to her quite a bit and honestly, the thought about not talking to her, or not seeing her makes my stomach turn in knots. This girl has done something to me. Never, in the past 3 years have I ever pursued a girl to this extent, or even though about a girl in this extent, but I find myself thinking about this girl 24.7, and fuck I like it.

I was quick to discover that Brooks was just as sassy over the phone then she was in person. Every compliment or attempt at a compliment that I provided, she was quick to turn it around and slap it back in my face in one way or another. Mental note, Brooks does not like being called 'my little rook' or when I ask if that cute ass can handle another night with me, but I kinda understood that one. But she never did say no, so I was still hopeful.

I had managed to talk to Brooks all morning over text, as I now stand in front of a brand new suburban home in St. Paul. Today was a moving day. It's a tradition in the NHL, that all the rookies that have nowhere to go live together until they can place some roots. So for the next year, I am living with the boys. Feels like University all over again.

As I walk into the house, I am immediately inserted into an argument.

"Riva, thank god you are here. Can you please explain to Tommy that just because he is the tallest, does not mean he gets the master bedroom!" Rudy screams as soon as I step into the living room. Tommy was the nickname given to Weston Rhett in the first weeks of training camp when people overheard him singing in the shower. Apparently due to his choice of song, and the fact that he shared a last name with country music star, Thomas Rhett, Tommy quickly became his given name.

"I am not getting involved" I say attempting to avoid this conversation. I successfully dodge Rudy's encounter and head up stairs, dropping my stuff in the room furthest from the stairs. I couldn't care less what room I got, and there was not much to it. Just a queen size bed against the wall facing a TV and a closet. 2 windows were on the far wall giving me a view of the front driveway. This will do.

I quickly place all my things on the floor, and make my way downstairs to greet the boys, and make sure Rudy and Tommy are behaving themselves. By the time I got down there, they were both sitting at the dining room table across from each other, their elbows balancing on the table, and hands connecting. Of course the two would decide that an arm wrestle was the best way to figure things out. So immature. Only Rudy would think that he even stood a chance against Tommy. Mckay was tough, and as a goalie he was built differently, however Weston Rhett was a 6'7" defenseman who has dedicated his life to fighting. He was grindy and never backed down from a fight. It was his god given talent, and Rudy was truly attempting to challenge this god for a bedroom? Immature was correct.

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