Weak Side : A Fake Dating Hockey Romance (Bexley U)

This was the first time I had been in my dorm room without Theo sucking up all the energy inside the small space with his masculinity and overbearing need to make himself known by just breathing.

He was sound asleep by the time I got in last night from practicing my audition, and since I was staying true to our new-and-improved rules that hung crookedly on the wall in between our beds, I ended up texting Chad instead of answering his phone call, which made him irrationally angry.

I was still in my left split on the floor in between Theo’s and my beds as I skimmed my finger over my screen and reread our texts, feeling a deep pit form in my core.

Chad: Why won’t you answer the phone?

Me: My roommate is asleep. 

Chad: So?

Me: It’s called being considerate. He has a game tomorrow, so he went to bed early, and we have established some roommate rules that entail being considerate of one another.

Chad: Since when do you care about some jock’s game? Is there something going on, Claire?

Me: Like what?

I turned my phone screen off as I stood up from my split and threw it onto my bed. Things with Chad were more tense now that I was back at campus versus over the summer when I was living with my mom in our hometown. It was almost like he was frustrated that I was back, which was confusing.

Compartmentalize, Claire. 

Sighing, I cleared my head and climbed onto my bed, trying to find an angle of the room that I could do a split leap without hitting something in the process. The thought of an injury causing me to bow out of fall auditions caused a line of stress to fly down my spine. Now, more than ever, I needed to land a role in the spring show. I had to be in the running to win the scholarship. Most of my paychecks were about to go to Ralph for the repairs for my mom’s bathroom floor, and I was beginning to think I wouldn’t be able to afford next semester’s books.

There was nothing quite like the fear of being kicked out of school because you couldn’t afford it for motivation, now was there? Wiggling my fingers out in front of myself and lengthening my spine as much as I could on top of a mattress, I was mid-leap, fully in mid-air, when the door flung open. Theo stood in the doorway, shocked, as I landed in front of him.

“Jesus Christ, Bryant!” he shouted, bending down and gripping me by my upper arms. “Are you okay?”

A laugh bubbled from my chest as he pulled me to my feet, looking completely alarmed. He dropped his eyes to his hands on my arms, and he quickly tore them off before shutting the door with his foot.

“I’m fine. I was practicing,” I said, half-laughing. “Relax, Gramps.”

“Practicing what?” His voice neared hysteria as he walked farther into the room and threw his bag on the foot of his bed. “How to attack someone?”

Going back to my side of the room, I shrugged on my cardigan and pulled the scrunchie from my damp hair, letting the wet ends fall over my shoulders. “No”—I went to my bed and grabbed my phone to see if Chad had finally texted me back—“my split leap.”

Theo kicked off his shoes before shifting his gaze back and forth in between the space of our beds. When he landed back on me, he raced his eyes down my body and back up again, as if he were sizing me up. “Leaps? In here? Don’t you have, like, a studio for that? A dance studio? That’s like me practicing hockey in here.”

“It’s definitely not the same thing. And yes, we have a studio, but when I saw you were gone, I decided to just do my stretching in here, and that then snowballed into”—I wafted my hand out, feeling stupid—“a split leap.”

Theo bent down and plugged his phone in, and I knew that was my cue to get ready for bed because he was beginning his nightly routine. He really was like a grandpa—so serious about his routine. Theo was definitely a creature of habit. “Where were you, anyway?” I asked, checking the clock. “It’s way past your bedtime.”

His sarcastic chuckle rubbed over my curiosity, and for the second time in one minute, I felt stupid with his response. “You might be the only student on campus who is unaware of the hockey schedule.” Oh, that’s right. 

Even after recalling there was a game, I mentally rolled my eyes. As if I had the space in my brain to worry about something like Bexley U’s hockey games on top of my work schedule, schoolwork, my mother’s bills that she just couldn’t get on top of, and the whereabouts of my boyfriend.

Sensing my discomfort, Theo left the room, and I quickly changed into my sleep shorts and t-shirt and crawled into my bed. I had been ready to go to sleep the second I got off from work, thankful that I had the early shift—which, in my defense, was partly why I’d forgotten it was game night on campus. If I had the late shift, I would have known, without a doubt, that there was a game. Most of the students stopped by and got food at The Bex before heading to the after-parties.

I understood why Taytum wanted me to go out with her now too. The parties on campus were always a little rowdier when there was a home game, and I was certain they had won because the hockey team was “unstoppable” per the campus gossip.

Theo walked back into the room a moment later and immediately saw that I was in bed. He was carrying his dirty clothes in one hand and had changed into a gray BU shirt with a pair of workout shorts. We said nothing as he flopped onto his bed, sending a wave of his body wash in my direction, and checked his phone for a second before clicking it off. I leaned over and turned the light off on the small bookcase that sat right beside my bed, and nothing but our even breathing filled the tiny area.

Usually, Theo was fast asleep when I’d get back to the room. He’d occasionally huff and puff if I was being too loud, but he usually fell back into a slumber when I was finally crawling into bed for the night. But this was the first time we were both actively awake and trying to fall asleep at the same time. A weird sense of discomfort settled in my lower stomach as I tried to listen to anything but his breathing, but I couldn’t help but latch onto it. There was an awkward shift in the air, and I heard him turn beneath his blankets, so I did the same before grabbing my phone to do something other than listen to his breathing like some sort of obsessive puck bunny.

My brightness was turned down, but I knew if he was looking at me, he could see the annoyance on my face from Chad not responding to my texts. I shoved the frustrating and pesky thoughts behind a thick wall of denial in the back of my head.

I turned my screen off, laid my phone face down on the shelf, and inhaled a deep breath before blowing it out slowly. My mind was reeling, and just like every night, my worries began to surface the second I tried to fall asleep. Long, antagonizing minutes passed, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I continued to listen closely to Theo’s breathing, and when I thought he may have been asleep, I threw my covers off, slowly climbed out of my bed, padded my way over to my desk, and sat down in the dark.

I flipped open my Classical Ballet Technique book and grabbed a pencil out of my pencil holder slowly so it wouldn’t make a noise. After building a barricade around my desk lamp with my other textbooks and tying my chiffon tie-on ballet skirt that I typically wore with my leo around it with a scrunchie, I flipped the light on and hoped it wouldn’t be too bright and wake Theo. Technically, I was breaking a roommate rule, but I was still being considerate with trying to make my light dimmer, right?

My hand skimmed the pages of the book as I tried to lose myself in my studies, focusing on classical ballet theories and the comprehension of soloists, seemingly allowing my mind to drift in other directions—like my future.

I didn’t want to be a soloist in a famous ballet show one day.

I didn’t want to continue down a path of writing papers about famous ballet dancers like Anna Pavlova or Natalia Makarova. But, nonetheless, I saw the importance in gaining an education, and back when I applied to Bexley U and they gave me the partial scholarship, I thought I knew what my future would look like. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

My pencil pressed down harder than before as I wrote down several important ballet terms that I knew would be on the quiz next week. The snippets of my mother’s unrelenting encouragement to push me to a future that I didn’t necessarily want caused the lead of my pencil to snap with heavy force.

I gripped my pencil so tightly I heard the creaking of splintering wood. Theo’s bed creaked a second later, and my back straightened. I peeked over my shoulder and jumped in my seat when I saw that he was awake and his head full of messy dark hair was leaning on his hand as he stared at me. I reached for my light and shut it off abruptly. His chuckle made me smash my lips together.

“Did you just try to pretend like you weren’t murdering a pencil at your desk by turning the light off? As if we didn’t just make eye contact?”

Embarrassment flooded me, and I was thankful I turned the light off, because I instantly felt idiotic.

“I thought you were asleep,” I said softly. “Did I wake you up?”

His swallow sounded rough, but his voice was as smooth as ever. “Are you referring to waking me up by building a wall of books around your lamp, or are you referring to the vigorous scratching of your pencil against paper?”

Theo didn’t give me a chance to answer his question, which I realized was just his way of poking fun at me, as usual. “I’ve been awake. I hadn’t fallen asleep.”

“Oh.” That was surprising. “I assumed you’d be super tired from your game that I’m guessing you won?”

His scoff was as cocky as they came. “Of course we won.”

There was a pause as I stood up and pushed in my chair, heading back to my bed. I eyed my phone but didn’t dare pick it up as I crawled under my covers and stared up at the dark ceiling.

“I can’t sleep after games.”

My eyes moved to his side of the room, although all I could make out was a large shadow on his bed. “Really? Why?”

“I get too hyped up. I start going over plays in my head to figure out what we can do better for the next game. I usually lie here for hours until my body gives up and I crash.”

I wasn’t sure why, but I found that both admirable and shocking.

“I figured that you would be out partying and celebrating your win like the rest of campus.”

A throaty chuckle came from his side of the room. “I was out, but I never party hard during the season. I usually make the rounds…”

His words trailed off, and I had a big feeling I knew why.

“By ‘making the rounds’ you mean you meet up with a puck bunny and then you come home.” I scoffed.

Years of snarky remarks about jocks from close friends who’d had their heart broken by the star football player or hockey star—or hell, even the top golfer of our school—came back to me as if I were still that same freshman, holding a hostility for jocks because that was how I was raised. It was hard to form your own opinion that wasn’t clouded by judgment when you were told something negative from a very young age. I’ll never forget the first time I had the courage to ask my mother why I didn’t have a father.

“You sound a little jealous. Where’s your boyfriend tonight, Claire?”

A hard lump formed in my chest that I tried to massage away. “I’m not jealous. I’m just stating the facts. I’m right, aren’t I? Isn’t that what you jocks do?” A bitter laugh left me because his question struck a nerve. I had no idea where Chad was, and it stung.

“What is it with you and jocks?” Theo’s tone had definitely changed from light and airy to tense and heavy. “Did a jock break your heart or something? Is that why you’re with a guy like Chad? You are still with him, right?”

I turned and faced him, even though he couldn’t see me. I traced the outline of his profile, annoyed that his nose was perfect and straight, even in the dark. “No, a jock didn’t break my heart.” But I did have one who abandoned me as a baby. “I’ve never dated one because you’re all the same.”

“I call bullshit,” he muttered. I could practically see his eye roll in our pitch-black room.

“Whatever,” I muttered back, crossing my arms over my chest.

Silence passed between us, and the room was as tight as the scrunchie around my wrist. I tore it off and threw it to the ground with force when Theo’s steady tone filled the tense space. “But seriously. Where’s your boyfriend tonight? We’ve been rooming together for, what? Two weeks? I’ve seen him once.”

My heart leapt in my chest, and those thoughts that I had pushed behind a thick cloud of denial were suddenly very clear in my head. “Are you implying something?”

The vibrating of my phone stopped Theo from whatever he was about to say. I hurriedly reached and grabbed it, hoping it was Chad and I could actually answer Theo and not have to lie about knowing the whereabouts of my boyfriend—which, to be frank, was none of his business.

“Is that him now?” he asked, making me feel even worse when I realized it wasn’t.

Sitting up in defeat, I answered my phone while ignoring Theo. “Tay?”

“Claire, I hate to do this, but could you…possssssssibly…come get me and the rest of the dance girls?” The background of whatever party she was at was so loud I felt like I was there with her.

I sighed. “What happened to Ubering?”

“Katelyn got super wassstteed, and they won’t let her come. They said they didn’t want her to yack in the backseat.” I suppressed a laugh at the way she said “yack” and began pushing the covers off my legs.

“Well, I don’t want her to throw up in mine either,” I said, “but yes, I’ll come get you guys. Are you sober enough to send me a pin?”

“I love you so, so, soooo much,” she said before hanging up. A moment later, I got a text with her location, and I threw my hair up in a high bun with the scrunchie that I’d thrown onto the floor a minute prior. I annoyingly opened up my dresser and searched in the dark for my joggers and pulled them on over my sleep shorts.

My hand was on the doorknob, and I had no intention of saying another word to Theo, but his light turned on, and his voice stopped me. “You never answered me, Bryant.”

Turning around, I raised my eyebrows at him and saw that he was fully sitting up with a determined look in his eye that I felt in parts of my body that should have been asleep.

“Do you know where your boyfriend is tonight?”

I heard my heartbeat in my ears as Theo’s temples flickered back and forth, waiting for my answer. Does he know something I don’t? I felt as small as a seed, standing by the door, looking at him.

I swallowed and stayed silent. The hardness around his green eyes lessened the longer we stared at one another.

“I hate to be the one to say this”—he flew back onto his bed and flipped his light off—“but I’m pretty sure he’s cheating on you.”

The pounding in my ears intensified to the point that I couldn’t hear anything else after his statement. I pulled open the door and slammed it on my way out, compartmentalizing my worries just like I had learned to do over the last few years.