Page 14 of Playing Rough

I hold up my hands in mock surrender and let the pluralroomsgo for now. "Hey man, just trying to make friendly conversation with my new roomie."

"We're not friends. This is temporary and for the coach's sake only," he growls. "So keep your crap on your side and leave me the hell alone."

"Sure thing, Sunshine." I give him a sarcastic thumbs up. "This is gonna besucha fun weekend."

Riot just glares and storms past me, his shoulder slamming into mine, to claim the bed farthest from the door.

After the world's most awkward unpacking session, we head downstairs where the rest of the team's gathered in Riot's tricked out media lounge. He avoids looking at me wedged between Knight and Luc on the couch, periodically clenching his jaw, probably afraid we're going to dirty up his couch or something.

We spend the next couple of hours bonding over rowdy games and enough greasy pizza to stop our trainer's heart. Trash talk fills the air as we battle on MarioKart.

"Eat my dust, bitches!" Tristan crows as his Yoshi zooms into first.

"Fuck you and your blue shell!" Lucas groans as his kart spins out. "Imma plow you off the track, asshole."

"Try and catch me now, losers!" Tristan taunts. "I'll be across the finish line before you dickwads even see my taillights."

"Not so fast." Bear, our bearded giant, jostles Tristan's arm to distract him, sending Yoshi into a banana peel as his Luigi kart zooms past.

"Hey, quit your cheating shit!" Tristan shoves him back.

"All's fair in MarioKart, douchebag." Bear chuckles as he maintains the lead.

Tris isn't having it. "Oh, it's on, dickweed!"

Their shoving escalates until Knight's Bowser zooms across the finish line first.

"Boom, Shadow takes the win! Up yours, bitches." He chirps. "Maybe next time, ass-clowns."

"You just got lucky, fucker." Tristan elbows him. "Rematch, or you're a little bitch."

Their creative trash talk continues, laughter and cheers filling the room. Even Riot seems to relax, cracking the occasional smile, though tension still lingers below the surface.

During a game break, I wander off to snoop, peeking at photos along the hall. Little Riot clutching a hockey stick stands out. And angsty teen Riot brooding in tailored suits that look like they were made for him even then.

Even surrounded by family, he's separate.

I find his childhood bedroom and smirk to myself as I step inside. He wanted to keep me out so bad, yet here I am.

The place is lined with trophies and sloppy gear piles. Across the hall is a badass library straight out of Beauty and the Beast. I never took Riot for a nerd, but here we are.

This cozy room with its fireplace seems more lived in than the cold museum vibe of the rest of this mausoleum.

I sink into a leather chair, inhaling that soothing old book scent. Rain patters against the windows as memories threaten to pull me under. Heavy family shit is stirring up again, like the last time I was in a public library trying to stay warm because our heating was out and mom couldn't afford the bill.

The creak of a floorboard jars me back. I glance up as Riot fills the doorway, looking surprised.

"Exploring?" His gravelly voice fills the cozy space.

I lift a shoulder, playing it cool. "Couldn't resist checking out the famous Kensington palace."

I don't bother telling him I took a thorough expedition through his childhood bedroom first.

He eyes me a moment, then steps inside. "Most guys head for the home theater or game lounge. But you came here."

I gesture to the shelves. "Guess I was curious."

Riot settles into the wingback chair across from me. "About?"

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