3
Cree
Daire bursts out of the hall bathroom just as I’m coming up the stairs.
His eyes connect with mine, his hands on the towel at his waist. He’s soaking wet. It’s obvious he grabbed the towel and ran.
“Dude,” he glares at me, holding up a purple razor, “why the fuck does your sister need so many razors? There are like twelve in there, and half of them are on the floor of the shower. I cut myself.” He turns, showing me his heel. It’s barely bleeding, he’s just being dramatic. “And why does she even need them in my shower? She’s supposed to be sharing a bathroom with Jude!”
“Calm down.” I shake my head, pausing outside my room. “I’ve seen you bleed worse on the ice.”
“Yeah, but that’s fun. Stepping on a razor isn’t.”
“I’ll tell her to get rid of them and clean her stuff up. I don’t know why she’s using yours.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Daire runs his fingers through his wet blond hair. “You do that. Millie is cool and all, but living with a chick is weird.” He shudders. “There’s so much hair around the drain I thought there was a rat for a second when I got in.”
Daire only has brothers and was raised by a single dad. His experience with women extends to the physical kind and that’s it. This final year spent living with Millie will be eye-opening for him.
I chuckle, amused at his disgust. “You better get used to it. One day you’ll be living with a chick permanently.”
“Nah.” He smirks, shaking his wet hair at me like a dog. “I’m an eternal bachelor.”
“We’ll see.”
He laughs like the idea is ludicrous, closing his door behind him.
Bypassing my room, I knock on Millie’s door. “Come in.”
Opening it, I lean against the doorway. “I hear you have a ton of razors in the bathroom. A bathroom that isn’t even yours.”
“Not a ton—there’s like three. One for my legs, the backup for my legs, and the one for my lady bits.”
“Ugh, Mills.” I gag like I sucked on something sour. “I don’t need to hear about your lady bits.”
“Why are you asking me about my razors?” She arches a brow, her face highlighted from the glow of her laptop on her bed.
“Because Daire cut his foot on one.”
“Aw.” She mock pouts. “Should I kiss it and make it better for the poor wittle baby?”
“Don’t even joke about kissing my friends in any way.” My friends are great—until it comes to the idea of one of them with my sister, then they’re public enemy number one. “Just keep your razors picked up and hair from going down the drain. Oh and all in your bathroom.” I point a finger at the closed door that connects her bedroom to the Jack and Jill bathroom between her room and Jude’s.
Rolling her eyes, she waves her hand in a shooing gesture. “Ugh, but I hate sharing a bathroom with him.” I glare at her because it’s a fucking bathroom. “All right, whatever, now go. You’re getting on my nerves.”
I pale with realization. “Jude didn’t do anything funny did he?”
“Oh, God. No! Nothing like that! He just annoys me. Tell Daire I’ll move my crap back later.”
Shaking my head, I close her door behind me.
In my room, I grab my computer to go over my schedule again in preparation for the first day of classes tomorrow. Something my friends and teammates roast me for is how much of a nerd I am. I love school and learning in general. I read all the time and would rather watch documentaries than most other things. Despite that, hockey is still my great love. Much to the disbelief of almost everyone, I haven’t made up my mind if I want to pursue the pros—they showed interest last year but I didn’t bite—or do my own thing. Life’s short, with endless possibilities. How can I know if I’m making the right decision?
“Knock, knock.” Daire pokes his head in my open doorway.
“Don’t worry I talked to Mills, and she said she’d take care of the razors.”
“That’s not why I’m here.” He grabs the top of the doorframe.
“Then what do you want?” I close my laptop and swivel my desk chair in his direction.
“Let’s go to Harvey’s. I want a drink and a chick in my lap.”
I chuckle, leaning back in my chair. It lets out a long squeak of protest. “That so?”
“Yep. Grab your wallet. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“All right. See if Jude wants to go.”
Daire gives a nod and heads downstairs, feet thumping on the stairs as he goes.
Grabbing my stuff, I knock on Millie’s door again.
“What?” she snaps, swinging the door open before I can.
“Whoa.” I hold my hands up innocently. “I wanted to let you know the guys and I are headed to the bar.”
“Of course, you are.” Her tone is sassy, and I narrow my eyes.
“What’s that for Millicent?”
She makes a sour face at my use of her full name. “Nothing, I’m just in a bad mood.” She rubs a hand over her face.
“About what?” My sister is usually easy-going, always ready with a smile. It’s rare for her to be sassy or admit to not being in the best mood.
“Nerves.”
“Aw, Mills.” I pull her into a hug. “Don’t be nervous.”
“College is scary, Cree.”
“You’ve got this. Besides, you have three awesome roommates to help you through it.”
“Ha,” she says snarkily. “You guys are seniors. You’ll forget all about my poor pathetic freshman self.” She looks away, staring off into the distance. She’s really in her head about all of this.
“Not a chance.” I ruffle her hair. “I gotta go but text me if you want me to bring you back something.”
“I have a car.” She rolls her eyes. “And I’m capable of using the kitchen.”
“Hey, it’s just an offer. Take it or leave it.” I throw my hands up in an innocent gesture.
She laughs, stepping back into her room. “Have fun with the boys.”
Downstairs, I meet the guys in the kitchen where Jude’s making a sandwich.
“Dude, why are you eating?” I chuckle, eyeing his monstrosity of a sandwich. It’s turkey, ham, lettuce, pickles, and what looks like ketchup, mayo, and mustard. Barf. “Can’t you eat at Harvey’s?”
“I’m starving, that’s why.” He takes a massive bite. “Besides, the Uber is still twenty minutes away.”
“You called an Uber?”
“Duh.” Crumbs of food fall out of his mouth. “I don’t think any of us wants to be the designated driver.”
I shrug indifferently. I’m not a huge drinker, so it doesn’t matter much to me, but if an Uber is already on its way, I’m not going to complain.
Millie comes down before we leave, eyeing us suspiciously on the way to the fridge. “You guys haven’t left yet?”
“Uber’s late,” I explain.