2. Tyler

Istood at Perth International Airport, gear bag and luggage in tow. My family surrounded me—both biological and ice.

My teammate, Holden, nudged me. His bright white smile was damn near blinding. "You gonna show those BU boys how the Aussies do it?"

"Hell yeah! We didn't earn that bronze for nothing." I tried to sound confident, but the nerves were setting in. Those guys in Boston lived and breathed hockey. It was one of—if not the most—prestigious college hockey teams in America. Getting in was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I had to prove my worth.

"I meant how we party, but sure; kick their arses on the ice too." Holden laughed when I shoved him.

"Dude, I can't legally drink there."

"Like that's ever stopped anyone. I can't wait to hear about all the college parties."

"Mate, not what I'm there for. The scholarship is grade dependent. If I screw this up, I'm right back here carrying you lot through another round of nationals." I bumped into his shoulder, trying to seem determined.

Holden sobered. "Fuck, we'll totally lose this season without you."

I laughed. Not only was it likely true, but I also needed to hear it. "You'll be right, mate."

This caught the team's attention and another one of my teammates, Beau, chimed in. "Mm, Holden's right. You're our captain, and you held us through those games. We're screwed." A chorus of grumbled agreements echoed him.

I shook my head, unable to fight the smile pulling at my lips. "Well, thanks for the ego boost, but I know you'll all be fine. Just don't show up hungover, and she'll be right."

I joined in with the laughter that followed. Telling a team of hockey boys, let alone Australian ones, to be sober in any capacity was like telling a baby cow not to drink milk: impossible.

My heart sank when my boarding number echoed over the PA system. I glanced at the faces around me; the faces of the people who'd supported me unconditionally through the toughest years of my life. I found a mix of sadness and comforting smiles. I made my rounds, giving each teammate a brief hug as they wished me luck. Then, my little brother stepped up. Who already nearly matched my height at the young age of fourteen.

"Love you," He hugged my waist tightly.

"Love you too, Bud." I hugged him back just as hard before he made way for Mum to take his place.

"Call me every step of the way, okay? Everything you need is in your pack." Mum's anxiety was palpable. "Sure thing, Mum. Love you." Despite the smile on her face, her eyes were glossy behind her black-rimmed glasses. I felt a tug at my heart at the realization of her weakened grip around my waist. I swallowed against the lump in my throat as she pulled away, her trembling fingers a silent plea for me to stay.

A hand clapped my shoulder, gripping me tightly. "I'll keep an eye on them, Ty." Holden"s voice came from my side. My heart pounded in my ears; my eyes burned. I looked around and noticed I wasn't alone.

Mum averted her gaze to hide her tears, and my brother choked back a sob. Promise you"ll call every day?" he asked, voice quivering.

"I promise."

As I walked toward the gates, I risked a glance back. Jamie"s leg jittered as he fought back tears while Holden had an arm around his shoulders. I couldn"t bear to witness my little brother"s pain. So, I turned and walked away.

Boston was freezing—really fucking freezing. The bitter New England wind bit my cheeks as I walked to the admissions building, I sighed—it wasn't even winter yet. I wanted to love it; I always said how much I loved the cold, but this was a different kind of uncomfortable. My winter wardrobe from Perth was not designed for this. My hoodie was pulled tightly over my head, and my kit bag and knapsack felt heavier in the cold. Mental note: go shopping ASAP.

I was rudely snatched back to reality when I was shoved, crashing to the pavement with a resounding, "Oomph."

"Watch where you're going, man!" I blinked in the direction of the hostile, husky voice. Didn't he walk into me? I looked around, trying to ascertain where I was—I needed to learn to be more observant.

"Uh, sorry, mate," I grumbled, scrambling to my feet with the grace of a baby kangaroo.

The guy grunted in response. His amber eyes assessed me from beneath a knitted beanie as I took in his sweatpants and bomber jacket. "Whatever, just watch where you're going."

I blinked back at him, my first impression of Americans being they were definitely ruder than Aussies. I bit my tongue to keep from voicing my opinions. Instead, I simply nodded and strolled towards the admissions office, sensing Mr. Broody's eyes on me the whole way. Clearly, common courtesy wasn't a thing in Boston. But whatever, it's fine, I guess. I needed to get my attitude in check.

When I entered my dorm felt like hitting the jackpot. My living situation turned out better than expected—my own bedroom, a chill common space with a couch and TV, and a tiny kitchenette that seemed like it would do the job. I knocked on my dorm mate's door but found no answer. I pushed it open, finding an empty room— save for the explosion of clothes and books. I cringed, hoping the mess stayed contained behind closed doors.

After a much-needed shower, I flopped onto the bed. The springs protested against my weight, and I groaned at the stiffness of the mattress. Despite the jetlag, I decided to ring home. Mum and Jamie's faces lit up my screen, their voices a comforting melody for the pang of homesickness I felt. They shared mundane stories: what they had for dinner, the local shop's latest drama. Classic Mum, knowing everyone's life story. It felt reassuring, a throwback to dinners at home listening to Dad's tales of local chats. Jamie filled in details Mum forgot, and the smile on my face lingered.

When we reluctantly ended the call, I dozed off, dreaming of my coastal home where the wind played a nightly symphony on Colourbond fences.

I was awoken an undetermined amount of time later by the sound of Taylor Swift blaring through the walls. A lyrical male voice harmonized over the top, only to be interrupted by the loud whir of a blender. My arm flew over my eyes, and I huffed a laugh as the noises seemed to compete over which one could be the loudest.

I swung my legs off the bed—which gave its own creaky contribution to the cacophony of noises—and shuffled to the door. I opened it to reveal a blond guy dancing around the kitchenette. Despite the five-a.m. wake-up call, I struggled to be mad about it. The guy was practically skipping, wearing a T-shirt that was two sizes too small, but that hugged him perfectly and showed off his sculpted muscles.

I raised a brow. Not at the muscles, but at the pair of snug yoga pants that hugged his—

"Oh! Hi! Sorry, geez. I…"He fumbled for his words, and I stepped forward with a smile. I needed to put the guy out of his misery. I offered him a hand.

"I presume you're my roommate. Name's Tyler, but you can call me Ty." The guy looked at me like I'd grown a second head. His long lashes fluttered against his cheekbones, his mouth agape. My hand still floated in the air between us, and I was pretty sure it became the elephant in the room because he looked at it like – well, like I was holding my own dick or something. Seeing that he wasn't going to take it, I pulled my hand back.

"Ah well, sorry to scare you. You weren't in when I arrived yesterday." I pushed my hand through my hair, and his eyes tracked the movement.

"I was at my boyfriend's," he blurted. I didn't miss the way he cringed after. I shrugged. "Cool, I didn't catch your name."

He blinked his big brown eyes once more. "Cal." I smiled and his shoulders relaxed a little more.

"Well, nice to meet you, Cal. Uh, I'll let you—" I whirled my hand in the air to the mess that littered the kitchen counter, and the speaker that blared music through the small space.

"Clothes!"

I looked down and realized that I was still only in my undies.

"If you want me to have a genuine conversation with you, please wear more clothes. All of that—" He gestured to my body. "—is too distracting."

I instinctively covered myself, with a chuckle. "Sorry, mate. Didn't think much of it." Who wears a shirt in Australia? It's too hot.

"I wouldn't either if I looked like that. Geez." Cal, seeming to relax a little, went back to pouring his smoothie. I tried not to cringe at his less-than-expert smoothie pouring skills, the liquid dripping down the counter and the cabinet doors.

"More like growing up in hockey locker rooms on the coast of Australia."

Cal moved to lean against the bench, but I stopped him, saving him from sitting in a puddle of goo. Shifting him to the side, I grabbed a cloth and wiped up the mess.

"Australian hockey player with abs of steel saved me from getting smoothie on my ass. God help me now."

"I thought you had a boyfriend," I teased, guiding him around the kitchen to continue wiping up.

"Oh, I do. But I am gay and have eyes and ears," he suggested with a sing-song voice.

I couldn't help but laugh, grateful that this guy was way nicer than the one from yesterday.

"That doesn't bother you at all, does it?" It was more of a statement than a question, but I could hear the fear in his voice.

I turned my head from where I was clearing his dishes away. He was sucking on his metal straw, cheeks hollowing as he openly checked me out. "What, that you're gay, or you find me attractive?"

"Both?" Cal smiled genuinely, his eyes landing on my face instead of my crotch.

"I'm flattered that you find me attractive. And no, I don't care who you date."

A soft, grateful smile appeared on his lips. As I finished cleaning up, I heard him retreat from the kitchen "I have practice, then I'll be at my boyfriend's. So, I'll see you around."

"Catch ya!" I yelled at his back, feeling a bit down as he left. The dorm's air was now very quiet without his... well, him. I wondered if this would always be like this—me alone in an empty, quiet dorm.