Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Gus
No one knows how to make a party last quite like me. Technically, I should have graduated three years ago, but I love Smithton, I love hockey, and the team needs a good captain with a positive outlook. That’s me. I love this town and it loves me.
Well, everyone except my roommate.
Rafe doesn’t like me at all—total mystery. I’m a nice guy. Ask anyone. He’s the one with stick-in-the-mud-itis. However, that might be exactly what I need to curb my compulsion for nonstop fun ’cause like it or not, the excess partying is taking a toll. I need to slow down, switch gears, and maybe use my free time to make things right with my roomie.
In a twist, Rafe’s not so bad. He has a great smile, pretty eyes, cute dimples, and—
Oh, man. I think I have a situation.
Rafe
This cannot be happening. I’m a competitive figure skater with goals and big plans. How did I get saddled with a party-boy hockey-hero for a roommate?
Oh, yeah, I mistakenly assumed the captain of the hockey team would be a serious person. Wrong. Gus and I have nothing in common and I have no idea how I’m going to survive a year of this.
But in a twist, we’re good together in a crisis. So good, that I’m beginning to wonder if we could be something more than a couple of athletes playing the roommate game.
The Roommate Game is an MM light-angst, college hockey romance featuring a fun-loving captain, a serious figure skater, and a chance at forever
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
RAFE
“Winners never quit and quitters never win.”—Vince Lombardi
Rain battered the coffee shop window, rattling the casing and streaking the glass. The forecast called for thunder too, but if there was any, it couldn’t have been heard above the hiss of steamed milk, grinding beans, and general chatter in Coffee Cave. The group in the corner was in the midst of a boisterous debate regarding the hottest video-game heroes, and there was definitely an “it’s not you, it’s me” breakup happening at the next table over.
My woes ranked somewhere in between. More serious than cartoon cuties, but certainly nothing to cry about. Well…okay, I had felt a little weepy when I’d realized my chicken parmesan had gone MIA from the fridge.
“He ate my leftovers. Again,” I groused. “Even the green beans, and Gus doesn’t even like green beans.”
Celine scowled. “Monster.”
“He’s a human vacuum.”
“He can’t get away with that.”
“Oh, really? ’Cause he’s been getting away with it for five freaking months.”
My friend reached across the table to give my hand a supportive squeeze. “Poor Rafey. Did you yell at him?”
“We had words,” I hedged.
“What did he say?”
“Same as always.” I rolled my eyes before lowering my voice to mimic my giant hockey roommate’s stoner dude affectation. “ ‘Oh, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was yours. I got you, though. Double the chicken parm tomorrow, and I’ll do you an extra solid…no green beans. They kinda sucked.’ ”
Celine’s lips twisted with humor. I could tell she was trying hard not to laugh at my plight. “You’re getting too good at imitating him.”
I shook my head mournfully. “I must have done something truly terrible in a past life, like poisoning a well that fed a village or stealing my neighbor’s cows on the regular. Karma might be seeking judgment in arears by saddling me with a roommate who drinks my milk straight from the carton and helps himself to my eggs. And stealing food is the least of Gus’s sins. If I come home to yet another party, I may have to call you for bail money.”
Celine didn’t bother hiding her amusement this time. Her long, golden locks cascaded over her shoulders as she threw her head back and guffawed, capturing a few admiring glances.
Listen, I wasn’t attracted to women in the slightest, but one would’ve had to be blind not to notice that Celine was drop-dead gorgeous. She was a petite blond with big blue eyes and a generous smile, who also just happened to be able to out-axel the competition in women’s figure skating at Smithton…hands down.
We’d been best friends since the day we’d recognized each other as schoolmates at the winter skate camp her parents ran in Pittsburgh. We’d been ten years old, and other than the fifth-grade classroom at Hollister Elementary and an abiding love for figure skating, we hadn’t had much in common. I was and always had been a bit of a dork, and Celine was the epitome of social grace.
Somehow, we’d clicked and become devoted amigos, battling all the ugliest aspects of adolescence like every other pimply-faced junior high and high school teen, then kicking butt in regional competitions on weekends. While our classmates had dabbled in sex, drugs, and partying, we’d perfected spins, worked on choreography, and learned how to navigate the complex mid echelons of the world we’d hoped to make a lasting mark in one day.