🔥He's the hockey captain I drew n@ked—and the roommate I mustn't touch.❌

1

The first time I saw the hockey captain naked, twenty-three other students were drawing him. I was the only one he was getting hard for.

I stopped inside Studio 4B with my portfolio against my chest. Every stool faced the platform, and Kellan Rhodes sat like being naked before strangers was normal. Then his eyes found me.

His body reacted so quickly my face burned.

Professor Bennett peered over her glasses. “Miss Monroe, how generous of you to join us. Sit down. You have lost twelve minutes.”

The empty stool was in front of him. I crossed the studio through whispers, reminded that campus remembered the private sketch of Kellan photographed from my freshman portfolio.

During my first year, I had the same crush as half the girls on campus, a hockey player who barely knew I existed. So I drew him from memory, naked. Someone found the sketch and posted it. Obviously.

I dropped onto the stool and opened my pad. My fingers shook, staining my hand with charcoal.

“Eyes on the model,” Professor Bennett ordered.

I looked up and wished I had failed the class. Our Bodies in Motion unit required athletic models, and the university paid volunteers from its sports teams to pose for us. Professor Bennett had warned us hockey was first. She had failed to mention its volunteer would be Kellan Rhodes. Completely naked.

Kellan had not moved. One arm rested across his knee, his expression bored. Only his tight jaw betrayed him, along with the erection he made no attempt to hide.

My charcoal snapped between my fingers. His mouth twitched as he asked, “Still drawing too hard, Monroe?”

Several heads lifted, but Professor Bennett tapped her clipboard. “Models do not speak unless the artist asks them a question.”

“She looked like she needed help,” Kellan replied.

I narrowed my eyes at him and muttered, “I would need significantly less help if you stopped talking.”

His smile arrived slowly. It was the same one from game posters on campus, except this felt aimed directly between my ribs.

I hated this, I hated it so much. I had drawn him from memory after seeing him alone in the rink, helmet off after a loss.

I put tenderness into it but campus only noticed I had imagined him naked.

After my drawing had gone viral, I'd erased myself from everything that could connect me to Kellan.

We had no classes together and we were in completely different cliques, and I'd been able to evade him for two years.

I pressed charcoal to the paper. “Turn your head left.”

He obeyed without teasing me.

I started with his shoulders, refusing to look lower. Why was this even allowed?

Hockey had built him personally, thick thighs, narrow hips, faint bruises and a surgical scar over his right shoulder.

“Five minutes,” Professor Bennett called. I found Kellan watching my hand. His erection had eased, but his attention had not.

“Why are you staring at me?” I whispered.

His eyes lifted to mine as he answered, “I am the model. You are supposed to stare first but…I like watching you work.” His voice dropped low enough that nobody else reacted.

My charcoal paused. “You don’t know anything about me.”

His jaw shifted before he replied, “I know you made me look peaceful.”

I didn't think he'd care to know who I was.

Professor Bennett called time before I could answer. Stools scraped and Kellan reached for his robe. I packed quickly, desperate to leave before someone asked whether this drawing would end up online too.

“Talia, stay behind,” Professor Bennett said. My shoulders fell as she placed a document beside my pad. “Your Bodies in Motion proposal has been approved.”

Three weeks earlier, after Bennett warned that my safe portfolio could cost me my scholarship, I had applied for the department’s eight-session independent study. I submitted three sketches and a proposal to study what an athlete’s body revealed when nobody was watching.

I stared at the title, then at the name printed beneath mine. Kellan Rhodes. Athlete model.

“No.” The word escaped before I could soften it. “There has to be another athlete.”

Professor Bennett frowned. “Mr Rhodes volunteered and selected your portfolio. You need a full figure series for your scholarship review. This is an excellent opportunity.”

“It feels more like a public execution.” I pushed the contract away, but she placed it back in front of me.

“Then discuss your concerns like professionals. The consent agreement remains unsigned, and nothing happens until both of you accept every term.”

She left before I could beg her to reconsider.

The door clicked shut. Kellan stood nearby in his loosely tied robe. I crossed my arms and stared at his face because I had seen enough of everything else. “You selected me?” I asked.

He held my gaze and said, “I did.”

“Why?” My voice came out sharper than I intended. He picked up a black folder. When he opened it, my blood went cold. Inside was my sketch, creased through the middle but unmistakable. I reached for it, but he lifted the page above me.

“Give me that.”

“Answer one question first.” His expression lost every trace of humour. “Was this what you wanted me to look like, or what you thought I was?”

“Why would you care?” I stepped closer and reached again. “You walked away as the hot hockey player. I became Captain’s Sketch Girl.”

“I told them to stop sharing it.”

I laughed without humour and said, “And that clearly worked.”

The anger inside me stumbled, which only made me more defensive. “Eight private sessions with you is not happening.”

“Afraid you will draw something accurate?” His gaze moved over my face as if he could sketch every thought I was trying to hide.

“I am afraid you will spend eight weeks enjoying how uncomfortable this makes me.” I snatched the contract, ready to tear it, then noticed a handwritten line beneath the university’s consent terms.

*No intentional skin contact during any session.*

I looked at him. “What is this?”

He leaned close enough for me to smell soap on his skin, but kept space between us, “I need to make sure you keep your distance…”

My grip tightened around the contract. Heat climbed my neck, but I held his stare. “You are unbelievably full of yourself, I have a boyfriend. That sketch was forever ago, get over it.”

“Then sign it.” He placed a pen between my fingers without touching my skin. “Eight sessions with me, nobody touches anyone.”

I stared at the blank signature line while his smile turned into a smirk as he added, “unless you don’t trust yourself not to break first.”

2

I stared at the paper and back at him.

“Yeah, no thanks.”

It felt disrespectful to Evan, my boyfriend. Kellan had been a freshman crush, nothing more. Eight sessions alone with his naked body felt like testing feelings I swore were dead.

I dropped Kellan’s pen, shoved the papers into my portfolio, and headed for the door.

I took the folder and hugged it against my chest. “Find another artist, it won’t be me.”

Kellan stepped away from the doorway, leaving me a clear path. His robe shifted open over the hard cut of his stomach before he caught the belt and pulled it closed. He moved far enough back that I could pass without touching him.

“Read it,” he said, his voice lower now. “Cross out anything you hate. Add whatever you need. If you still say no, I’ll find another artist.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth, then slowly returned to my eyes.

“I chose you, Talia.” His fingers tightened around the belt. “But I don’t own you. Say no, and I’m gone.”

That sentence followed me across campus.

By lunch, the contract sat between Zara’s scissors and silver thread. My best friend leaned over the worktable, braids across one shoulder, rereading the no-touch clause.

“Eight private sessions with the hottest man at Alder,” she said. “Someone upstairs loves you.”

I adjusted the skirt pinned around her dress form. “He is not the hottest man at Alder.”

“You drew him naked before seeing him naked.” She raised one eyebrow. “Your opinion is evidence.”

“Focus on Soft Armour.” I lifted the waist panel. “This needs to sit higher or it will swallow the embroidery.”

Zara studied the silver lines sewn across the plum fabric. Her collection showed what women wore when they needed courage. “Higher works. Still painting my backdrop?”

“Obviously. Friendship is unpaid labour with snacks.”

Miles arrived with dumplings and enough plaster on his shirt to suggest his sculpture had fought back. “My dancer’s hand collapsed. I need someone cruel.”

“You came to the right table,” Zara said.

He noticed the contract. “Bennett paired you with Rhodes?”

“Nothing is agreed.” I closed it as the door opened.

The door opened before I could hide the contract.

Evan Price walked in with his phone pressed to his ear and a coffee in his other hand. My boyfriend of nine months was still unfairly good-looking, which was inconvenient whenever I wanted to stay annoyed with him. His dark hair was wet from the shower, and the navy quarter-zip I had bought him for his birthday stretched across his shoulders.

He had been the first guy to ask me out after the sketch leaked without asking to see it.

Evan spotted me and smiled. “I’ll call you back,” he said into his phone.

He came around the table, slid one hand behind my neck, and kissed me. “You ignored my messages.”

“I was in class.” Three messages asked whether I had finished editing his internship application. “I said I would check tonight.”

“Deadline is five.” He chewed, then noticed the contract. “What is this?”

He took it before I could. His mouth tightened at Kellan’s name. “Tell me this is a joke.”

“It is an independent study for my scholarship.”

“With Rhodes? Alone.” He dropped the papers onto the table. “No.”

Heat moved up my chest. “You don’t get to say no for me Evan.”

Evan laughed once. “Do you know how stupid I’d look while my girlfriend spends eight evenings staring at the guy she fantasised about?”

Zara’s scissors clicked shut. “Interesting that her tuition missed your list of concerns.”

His eyes moved to her. “This is between me and Talia.”

“Then stop performing it in my workspace,” Zara replied.

I touched Zara’s wrist. “I haven’t signed. If Bennett can’t approve another model tomorrow, my portfolio is incomplete.”

“Then make her.” His phone buzzed. Liv flashed across the screen before he turned it over.

“Your marketing partner again?” I asked.

“We have a presentation Monday.” His answer came quickly. He kissed my forehead. “I am protecting our relationship, Tal. You should care how this affects me.”

I hated when he shortened my name. He knew that. He had known for nine months.

“Are we still having dinner tonight?” I asked.

Evan lifted his coffee. “Can’t. We’re meeting at Liv’s. Send my application before five.” He kissed my hair and left without saying goodbye.

Miles stared after him, fork raised. “I am trying not to commit a felony with a dumpling.”

“You would miss,” I said, because joking was easier than defending him.

Zara folded her arms. “He collected free editing, ate your lunch, dismissed your scholarship, and left for another woman’s apartment.”

“It is a group project.”

“Of course,” she said. “And Kellan was naked for science.”

Evan had felt safe after the sketch made attention dangerous. He never asked about it. Lately, safe felt like being ignored.

Miles pushed the dumplings closer. “Whatever you decide, don’t decide it for Evan.”

“I won’t.”

*

By the time I reached Cypress Apartments, my shoulders ached. Zara had beaten me home and left noodles in the microwave beside a note reminding me about our terrible reality television night.

Evan had not replied to my message asking when his group would finish. I edited his application anyway, then opened my laptop to finish my own summer gallery application. An email from the scholarship office waited at the top of my inbox.

SUBJECT: SPRING MERIT REVIEW, ACTION REQUIRED.

My appetite disappeared. Working with Kellan remained optional. Completing an approved figure study did not. Without an accepted replacement, my portfolio would be removed from consideration. The confirmation deadline was noon tomorrow.

Without the scholarship, tuition would drain my savings. Rent would take the rest. I could not afford my final year at Alder.

My phone lit beside the unsigned contract.

EVAN: Don’t wait up. Liv says we’ll probably work through the night.

I stared at his message, then at Kellan’s handwritten rule.

*No intentional skin contact.*

I had eighteen hours to choose between eight naked sessions with Kellan Rhodes and leaving Alder University.

3

The scholarship email stayed open until the words blurred.

If I had no signature by noon, it meant no portfolio, no portfolio meant no scholarship and no scholarship meant leaving Alder.

The apartment was silent. Zara had returned to the fashion building. I sat on the living room floor against the sofa and called Evan.

It went straight to voicemail.

I tried again and then a third time.

EVAN, PLEASE CALL ME. I REALLY NEED YOU.

The message showed delivered. Nothing followed.

I covered my face. I had saved for years, worked summers, and stretched supplies until tubes split. One unsigned contract could send me home before my final year.

I called Zara.

She answered over the sound of a sewing machine. “What happened?”

“I can't sit here.” My voice cracked. “Tell me there is somewhere loud enough that I wouldn't be able to hear myself think.”

The machine stopped. “I can come home.”

“No. I need out.”

She hesitated. “The hockey guys are partying at Hawthorne House. Imani is going with half the fashion department.”

I lowered my hands. “A hockey party sounds like the worst possible place.”

“Which makes it perfect. Get dressed. I will meet you downstairs in twenty minutes.”

*

Hawthorne House sat beyond campus, loud enough to find without directions. Students crowded the porch as music rattled the windows.

I called Evan from the pavement.

Voicemail again.

Zara watched me lower my phone. “Still nothing?”

“He is probably presenting.” The excuse sounded pathetic even to me.

“At eleven on a Friday?”

“Please dont.”

She linked her arm through mine. “Tonight we judge nobody except Miles and his orange shirt.”

Nico opened the door in a Wolves jersey and paper crown. “Fashion people! Finally. Hockey players can’t dress.”

Then Kellan appeared behind him. I don't know why I was shocked to see him at a freaking Hockey party but I froze in place.

Black shirt, dark jeans and damp hair. I had seen him naked that morning, but his sleeves gripping his arms still caught my breath.

His gaze moved over me slowly before settling on my face. I pushed past him before I lost my mind.

Skates hung beside the coat rack, sticks leaned against the wall, and a traffic cone decorated the dining table. Seven hockey players definitely lived here.

Miles found us near the kitchen. The orange shirt glowed beneath the lights. “You came.”

“Apparently my life can always get worse,” I said.

Miles handed me a cup. Zara sniffed it and replaced it with soda, “She needs to make an important decision tomorrow.”

For forty minutes, it worked. I danced with Zara, laughed when Miles lost an argument to a coat stand, and answered none of the questions inside my head.

I called Evan twice more.

On the sixth call, I stepped into the hallway where the music was quieter. His phone began vibrating somewhere nearby.

I pulled my brows together in confusion as I followed the sound into the back lounge.

Evan’s phone lay on an end table with my name bright across the screen.

He glanced at it, turned it facedown, and put his hand back beneath Liv’s hair.

Then he kissed her.

For several seconds, I couldn't move.

Liv was pressed against the wall, her arms around his neck.

Evan wore the quarter-zip I had given him for his birthday. The same mouth that had kissed me that afternoon was moving over hers.

I felt anger rising to my throat.

I crossed the room, grabbed his shoulder, and spun him around.

My palm connected with his cheek before I even knew I had lifted it.

The crack cut through the people standing nearby.

Evan stared at me, one hand covering his face. “What the fuck, Talia?”

My palm stung.

Liv wiped her mouth. “You said she never comes to hockey parties.”

I looked between them. “That was your concern? Whether I would catch you?”

“We were going to tell you,” Evan said.

“We?” I laughed, but tears burned behind my eyes. “How long has there been a we?”

Liv crossed her arms. “Since January.”

My stomach dropped.

Evan stepped closer. “You have wanted Rhodes for years. You were about to spend eight nights alone with him. Dont act like I betrayed some perfect relationship.”

“I called you six times tonight.” My voice rose. “I begged you to call because I might have to leave the university, and you watched my name light up while your tongue was in her mouth.”

“Talia, lower your voice.”

That finished it.

People had started watching again. The humiliation felt horribly familiar, except the anger l had burned away the part of me that wanted to hide.

“We are done.” I shoved past him and returned to the kitchen before the tears could fall.

A tray of clear shots sat on the counter. I took one.

Zara reached me as I swallowed the second. “What happened?”

“My boyfriend has been fucking Liv since January.” I grabbed another glass. “Ex-boyfriend. Whatever.”

Her eyes widened. “Talia, slow down.”

“I have been careful for two years.” The third shot burned less. “Careful paintings, careful boyfriend, careful little life. Look how well that worked.”

By the fourth, the kitchen floor had softened beneath my shoes. Zara removed the tray, but someone handed me a red cup, and I drank that too.

Kellan appeared on the other side of the counter. He looked completely distracted by whatever he was talking about with his friends.

Evan had followed me into the kitchen, his cheek bright red and he was making his way to me.

I had no idea what came over me but my hands balled into fists and I slowly started to make my way towards the Alder wolves and where they stood.

Kellan's eyes landed on me and he kept them there as I closed the distance between us.

”Are you okay blondie, why are you-" Kellan started to say but I cut him short.

The room blurred, but Evan’s furious face stayed perfectly clear behind me.

I grabbed the front of Kellan’s shirt, pulled his mouth down to mine, and kissed him.

4

Kellan’s mouth went still beneath mine. Then his hand closed around my waist, and his lips moved once against mine.

He caught my wrists and eased them away from his shirt. 

His breathing was uneven as he searched my face. “Monroe. How much have you had?”

“Not enough.” I leaned forward again, but he held me back. 

His jaw tightened. “You’re drunk.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Evan shoved through the kitchen, his cheek still red from my hand. 

Phones lifted around us, and someone whispered, “Captain’s Sketch Girl,” before a camera flash struck my eyes.

“You slap me, then stick your tongue in his mouth?” Evan demanded.

“At least I waited until we were over.”

A few people laughed. Evan’s face darkened as Liv appeared behind him, but his attention dropped to the arm Kellan had secured around my waist.

“You’ve wanted him since freshman year. This contract was always an excuse to get him alone.”

I tried to answer, but the room tilted. Kellan pulled me firmly against his chest, his palm spreading over my stomach as he held me upright.

Evan stormed forward and grabbed my arm. “You’re drunk. We’re leaving.”

Kellan snapped.

His warmth disappeared from behind me as he ripped Evan’s hand away. Before Evan could react, Kellan grabbed the front of his quarter-zip and drove him backward into the kitchen wall.

Bottles rattled. People scattered as Kellan pinned him there with one forearm across his chest. His other fist drew back, every muscle beneath his black shirt tightening as he prepared to swing.

Phones rose around us. Zara shouted at everyone to stop recording, but Kellan did not appear to hear her.

His eyes dropped to the red marks Evan’s fingers had left around my arm. Something in his expression turned vicious, and his fist tightened.

“Kellan.”

My voice barely carried through the kitchen, but he heard it.

His fist stopped inches from Evan’s face. Kellan remained there for several seconds, breathing hard enough to make his shoulders rise while Evan stared at him without moving.

“Put your hands on her again,” Kellan said quietly, “and next time she won’t be able to stop me.”

He released Evan with a final shove and turned toward me. The anger in his face changed the moment he saw me swaying.

The same hand that had nearly broken Evan’s jaw slid carefully around my waist. Kellan pulled me against his side and lowered his mouth beside my ear.

“I’ve got you, Monroe.”

Kellan’s arm stayed locked around me as he guided me through the kitchen. 

The floor rolled beneath my feet before we reached the door. Kellan caught me, swore beneath his breath and lifted me into his arms like I weighed nothing. My hands went around his neck automatically, and his heart hammered beneath my palm.

People moved aside while camera flashes followed us. Kellan tucked my face against his chest and carried me through them with Zara hurrying behind us.

The cold air cleared my head just enough to understand that the hockey captain was carrying me across his front lawn. “Put me down. I can walk.”

He lowered my feet to the pavement, but my knees buckled immediately. His arm tightened before I could fall, and he looked down at me without saying a word.

Zara opened the back door of her car. Kellan helped me inside, but I caught his wrist before he could move away.

“Wby did you stop?”

His attention dropped to my fingers. “Because you asked.'

“Not the fight.” I swallowed as my eyes found his mouth. “The kiss.”

Kellan braced one hand against the roof and leaned into the car. His face stopped inches from mine. “Because you were drunk.”

“If I wasn’t?”

His gaze lowered to my lips and stayed there. “Then I wouldn’t have stopped at your mouth.”

He stepped back and closed the door before my body could react.

*

I woke on the sofa with Zara asleep on the floor beside me, still wearing one heel. My head pounded as I reached for the water she had left on the table.

She opened one eye. “Please tell me you remember enough that I don’t have to explain why Kellan Rhodes carried you out of a party.”

My stomach tightened. “People filmed it?”

Zara pushed herself onto one elbow and gave me a tired look. “People filmed everything.”

Two videos had been posted on Alder After Dark. The first showed me kissing Kellan while Evan screamed behind us. The second showed Kellan driving him into the wall and drawing back his fist.

Together, they had eleven thousand views. The caption beneath them read: CAPTAIN’S SKETCH GIRL FINALLY GETS HER MODEL.

Comments called me a cheater and claimed Kellan had selected my portfolio because we were sleeping together. Someone had slowed down the moment he carried me outside and added romantic music.

I threw Zara’s phone onto the cushion. “I can't sign that contract now.”

“You have 23 minutes.” She sat upright and took my hands. “Evan cheated, grabbed you and let the internet make you the villain. Don't let him take your degree too.”

At 11:51, I entered Studio 4B wearing sunglasses and carrying the contract. Kellan crossed the room before I reached the platform, his attention immediately dropping to my arm.

“Let me see it.”

“I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

I held out my arm. His fingers circled my wrist carefully as he examined the marks Evan had left. His jaw hardened, and I knew he was thinking about the punch he had not thrown.

“I remember everything,” I said. “I kissed you to hurt Evan. It meant nothing.”

Kellan lifted his eyes. “He wasn’t outside when you asked what would happen if you were sober.”

Heat climbed my neck. I pulled away and placed the contract on the table. “Whatever happened last night cannot happen again.”

I snapped my gaze up and found him watching me. The wall clock changed to 11:57 behind his shoulder.

My scholarship email remained open on my phone, with REMOVED FROM CONSIDERATION glaring at me. I could not imagine eight private sessions after kissing him, but I could not stay at Alder without them.

“I have to sign.”

Kellan’s expression changed, but he said nothing as I wrote my name. He signed beneath it, his shoulder brushing mine.

Before the ink dried, both our phones vibrated. Professor Bennett had forwarded a complaint from Evan.

He had sent the videos, my freshman sketch and a statement claiming Kellan and I were secretly involved before he selected my portfolio. The scholarship office had suspended my review while they investigated whether I had traded a sexual relationship for Kellan’s approval.

Then Kellan’s phone began ringing. COACH MARSH filled his screen above an email notification from Alder Athletics.

EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY, KELLAN RHODES IS SUSPENDED FROM ALL TEAM ACTIVITIES PENDING A DISCIPLINARY REVIEW.

5

The dean played the video twice. The first time, I watched myself kiss Kellan. The second time, I watched him pin Evan against the kitchen wall with his fist raised.

Kellan sat beside me while Coach Marsh stood near the window.

“Were either of you involved before Mr Rhodes selected Miss Monroe’s portfolio?” Dean Carter asked.

“No,” Kellan answered. “Last night was the first time I touched her.”

I shook my head. “I drew the sketch during my first year. He barely knew I existed.”

“I knew who she was,” Kellan said. “I knew about the sketch. That is why I looked at her portfolio when Bennett asked us to choose. But there was nothing between us.”

Dean Carter closed the file. My scholarship review would remain suspended while the university verified the timeline. The art project could not begin, and Athletics would investigate Kellan separately.

“He grabbed her,” Kellan said. “I lost my temper. That was my decision, not hers.”

Coach Marsh’s expression did not change. “He still pinned a student against a wall. He will miss tomorrow’s game.”

Guilt pressed against my ribs. Kellan had lost hockey because Evan touched me, and he was still protecting me.

My phone vibrated before the meeting ended. The email came from Alder Residential Services.

SCHOLARSHIP FUNDING HOLD: CYPRESS HOUSING CONTRACT TERMINATION.

Cypress was scholarship accommodation. My award paid most of the rent and guaranteed the remainder. Now that the funding had been frozen, I had 48 hours to pay the full balance or surrender my room.

The amount listed was more than everything in my savings.

Kellan leaned toward me. “What happened?”

I locked my screen. “Nothing.”

He followed me into the hallway. “Show me the email.”

“You are already suspended because of me. I don't need you taking on anything else.”

Kellan stepped in front of me. “I am suspended because I put Evan against a wall.”

“He touched me for two seconds.”

“That was two seconds too long.”

The words sent an unwanted wave of heat through me. I tightened my grip around my phone and looked away.

“My consequences are mine,” he said. “Stop trying to carry them.”

I left before he discovered I had nowhere to carry my own.

Zara read the housing email three times when I returned to Cypress. Then she threw my phone onto the sofa and announced that I was staying with her.

The notice warned that any resident who hid a removed tenant could lose their contract. Zara’s fashion grant depended on her campus address, and I refused to risk it.

“I will hide you,” she insisted.

“You own a sewing machine loud enough to alert the entire building. You cannot hide anyone.”

She didn't laugh. That was how I knew she was scared.

Miles arrived with takeaway and boxes from the sculpture building. He offered his sofa, but he had a roommate, an illegal third occupant and an adviser who checked weekly.

Emergency housing had fourteen students waiting. Imani shared one room with two women, and the cheapest motel required a deposit I could not afford beyond one night.

My family lived too far away. Going home meant missing classes, the investigation and every chance of saving my place at Alder.

By six, boxes covered the living room. My canvases leaned against the wall while I sat between two suitcases holding the sketch that had ruined my life twice.

“I should never have drawn him,” I whispered.

Zara dropped beside me. “Evan cheated, grabbed you and filed that complaint. Don't you dare rewrite this until it becomes your fault.”

A knock sounded before I could answer. Zara became interested in packing tape while Miles stared at the ceiling.

“What did you two do?” Neither answered.

I opened the door and found Kellan in the hallway. He wore dark jeans and a black sweatshirt, and rain clung to his hair.

His gaze moved past me to the boxes. “So the email was not nothing.”

I looked at Zara. She lifted both hands. “I told Nico. Nico told him.”

Kellan entered and picked up the nearest box. His forearms flexed beneath his rolled sleeves as if it weighed nothing.

“Put that down,” I snapped at him.

“I have an empty room at Hawthorne.”

I stared at him. “The hockey house?”

“One of our defensemen moved in with his girlfriend. His room is paid through the semester.”

“I can't live with six hockey players.”

“You can if the alternative is leaving Alder.”

His answer irritated me because he was right. “I kissed you in that house and nearly got you removed from the team.”

“You kissed me. I handled everything after that myself.”

“I would owe you.”

“You would owe Mason. It's still his room.” Kellan placed the box beside my suitcase and moved closer. “You don't owe me for protecting you, Monroe. I would do it again.”

My breath caught. Behind me, Zara and Miles had gone quiet.

“There is one issue,” he continued.

I folded my arms. “Of course there is.”

“The room shares a bathroom with mine.”

My mind immediately pictured Kellan stepping from a shower, water running over the body I was supposed to spend eight sessions pretending did not affect me.

His gaze dropped to my mouth, “you can say no.”

The housing deadline glowed from my phone. Zara could not keep me, Miles could not hide me, and leaving Alder would destroy the future I had spent years building.

“When can I move in?” I asked.

Kellan’s mouth curved slowly as he reached for my suitcase. “Now.”

I had signed a contract forbidding me from touching Kellan Rhodes during our eight private sessions. By midnight, I would be sleeping beside his room and sharing his bathroom. Hawthorne House did not have a no-touch clause.

6

I expected Kellan to take my suitcase and leave me no choice. Instead, he set it down and looked at me.

“Listen, Mason already paid through December. He moved out because his girlfriend threatened to dump him if he renewed with six men who think mould is a seasoning.”

From the sofa, Miles looked offended. “It was one mug.”

Kellan ignored him. “You cover Mason’s utilities and repay the rent when your scholarship is reinstated. Both doors lock. Nobody enters without permission. If you hate it, you leave.”

“And if her scholarship is not reinstated?” Zara asked.

His eyes stayed on mine. “Then she pays when she can.”

That nearly made me refuse. Kindness was easier to accept with an invoice. This felt like trusting someone who had already lost a game and possibly his captaincy because of me.

“I need it in writing,” I said.

Kellan nodded, without reminding me he was my only option. “Mason will send the sublet tonight.”

Zara demanded the address, every housemate’s name and proof that my door locked. Kellan answered everything. When Mason sent an agreement promising me the room for six weeks, I ran out of sensible reasons to refuse.

“Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll stay.”

Cypress had never been beautiful. The radiator clanged, the shower turned cold, and Zara’s sewing machine sounded like construction equipment. Still, it had been mine. The brass number on our door meant I had made it to Alder. Watching Kellan carry away my boxes felt like watching that proof disappear.

Zara hugged me beside his car until laughter broke through my tears. “It is six weeks. Then you are coming home and never sharing a bathroom with anybody who pees standing up again.”

Kellan opened the passenger door for me. I stared back at Cypress as we drove away, until the building vanished behind the trees.

Without a hundred drunk students hanging from it, Hawthorne was only a crooked house with hockey sticks on the porch.

Nico stood there in grey sweatpants, one sock and the same paper crown from the party. “Our scandal has arrived.”

Kellan shoved a box into his chest. “Her name is Talia.”

“I know. She slapped Evan so hard I felt emotionally healed.” Nico took the box. “Welcome. I cook, I charm and I never caused the mould incident.”

“He does none of those things,” Miles said, squeezing past him with my easel.

The living room fell silent when I entered. Three enormous men stared at me from a sectional that had clearly survived several wars.

The blond one stood first. “Owen Park. Defence. The bathroom pipe screams, but it is not haunted.”

“Theo,” Nico said, pointing at a tattooed man holding a tiny knitting needle. “Goalie. His grandmother makes him knit scarves for shelter dogs.”

Theo lifted the unfinished bright yellow scarf. “Tell her I bite, and I will kill you.”

The last boy remained beneath an ice pack. “Briggs. I got hit with a puck, so if I call you Mom, do not make it weird.”

Despite everything, a laugh escaped me.

Kellan looked over his shoulder at the sound, and something in his expression softened before he turned away. “House rules. Nobody touches her food, her art supplies or her.”

Nico clutched the box tighter. “That last one sounded incredibly specific.”

Kellan’s stare shut him up.

They carried everything upstairs, turning my careful labels into entertainment. Theo carried three canvases as if the paint were wet. Briggs attempted my suitcase until Kellan ordered him back to the sofa.

My room was small but clean, with pale walls, a desk beneath the window and two doors. One led to the hallway. The other opened into the bathroom I shared with Kellan.

A silver lock gleamed on both.

“You installed these?” I asked.

“An hour ago.” Kellan placed my suitcase beside the bed. “The old one barely closed.”

Fresh sheets covered the mattress. A folded towel sat beside a charger and a water bottle. The ordinary thoughtfulness pressed harder against my chest than any grand gesture.

“Thank you.”

He leaned against the doorframe. For once, there was no teasing in his face. “You are allowed to be upset, Monroe.”

That nearly undid me. I looked down before he could see my eyes fill. “I need to unpack.”

Kellan closed the door behind him without forcing me to pretend I was fine.

I unpacked until every shelf looked temporarily mine. I placed my brushes in a jar, propped my mother’s photograph against the lamp and hid the scholarship letter beneath my socks. Downstairs, the boys argued over whether Theo’s scarf looked like a diseased banana. Their laughter came through the floor, warm and unfamiliar.

At some point, I lay down fully dressed. I told myself I was only resting my eyes.

When I woke, the room was black and my throat burned. My phone read 2:17 a.m. The water bottle was empty, so I followed the light from the landing downstairs.

The kitchen was quiet except for the refrigerator. A note had been taped to it in five different handwritings.

WELCOME, TALIA. DO NOT EAT THE GREEN CONTAINER. IT MAY BE ALIVE.

I smiled, filled my glass and climbed back upstairs half asleep. Two dark doors waited at the end of the hallway. I opened the one nearest the bathroom, crossed the room without switching on the light and slipped beneath the covers.

The mattress was warmer than I remembered.

So was the pillow.

I shifted closer, seeking heat, and rested my cheek against something firm. A steady heartbeat sounded beneath my ear. Bare skin moved beneath my palm as a strong arm slid around my waist and pulled me flush against a hard body.

Every trace of sleep vanished.

Kellan’s breath touched my forehead. His voice came out deep and rough in the darkness.

“Careful, Monroe.” His hand tightened slowly against my bare waist. “You just climbed into my bed. Your no touch rule does not apply here.”