Chapter 4

4

KING

My sexy-as-hell roommate walks away, and I can't stop staring. I might’ve lied and said I was gazing at the snakes slithering along his head, but I was actually ogling the rest of him.

He's fucking gorgeous. He’s a few inches shorter than me, with a lithe body and these beautiful, light green, snake eyes. He ran out into the hallway in a pair of gray sweats and no shirt, and I was mesmerized.

"Sorry about him.” Mateo's voice cuts through my thoughts, and I whip around to face him. “He's actually a cool guy; he just has a lot going on right now."

"It's all good. I hope we didn't get off on the wrong foot, though."

"Nah, he'll be okay. Going out to breakfast is a great idea. Let me run and change. You should probably do the same."

Looking down at my outfit, I shrug. "Nah, this is what I usually wear."

"You usually wear basketball shorts and a sleeveless tee?" he asks, bewildered and gawking at my clothes.

"Yeah, what's wrong with it?" I glance down at myself, tugging at my shirt. Ninety-nine percent of my clothes look like this. I never saw anything wrong with it before.

"Uh, nothing. You look fine. I'll be right back, though."

"Sounds good."

While waiting for Mateo and Niko to finish changing, I sit on the couch and scroll through my phone. A call comes through from Vanessa, and I shudder.

Dancing with her last night was a mistake. I was trying to have a fun time, but she took it as something more and was getting clingy before the night was even over. She tried to kiss me, and when I politely pulled away and declined, she snatched my phone from my hand and called herself so she would have my number. I press decline and shove my phone into my pocket. I don't need to deal with that right now.

Footsteps sound down the hall and when I glance up, I can't stop the groan that tries to break free. Niko is approaching, his eyes narrowed and on me. He's wearing tight, ripped black jeans with a white tee and black leather jacket. On his feet are black combat boots, and on top of the snakes is the gray beanie from earlier. He's no longer wearing the glasses, so I can only assume he's put in contacts. But fuck me, he's sexy.

"Where were you thinking of going for breakfast?" he inquires, sitting down on the couch next to me. A scent of sandalwood hits me and I have to physically restrain myself from leaning in and inhaling deeper. I don't recall a time in my life when I’ve ever responded to someone this quickly before. Maybe it’s because I haven’t hooked up with someone in a while. All I know is I don't even know him and I want to lick his body from head to toe.

"There's a food court, right? I figured we could head over there, that way we can each get what we want."

"Sounds good."

We sit in silence, neither of us making any effort to keep the conversation going. He keeps his eyes on his hands, and I use the time to admire him some more. He has to be about five-six, maybe five-seven. I bet he would fit perfectly under me. I look up when one of his snakes slithers closer to me, and I watch it closely. Seeing them move around is fascinating. I'm about to ask more about them when Mateo walks out dressed in slacks and a polo shirt.

"We're going to breakfast, not a country club," Niko jokes, and I snicker softly. Now I see why he was questioning my outfit. We're the complete opposite.

Mateo rolls his eyes before walking to the door. "Let's go.”

Making our way to the food court, we mostly walk in silence, the occasional question coming from either me or Mateo. Niko stays quiet the whole time, and I can't stop wondering more about him. Is it because he's shy? Maybe he's introverted and it takes a while to open up? I wonder if it's hard for him to make friends. Whatever it is has me even more curious about the man next to me.

We each separate to get our own food before making our way to an empty table. I ended up getting a FrankenBurger, and I'm hoping it's delicious because it sure smells like it. I got a side of French Frights, and I giggled so hard at the name that the girl helping me rolled her eyes. I start eating, each of us glancing at one another and waiting for someone to break the ice.

I guess it'll be me.

"So, were you guys roommates last year?" I ask, dipping one of my fries into some ketchup.

"Yeah, Niko and I have been friends for the past two years. We met our first year when we got roomed together, and we've been inseparable ever since."

"That's pretty damn cool. Do either of you work on campus?"

"I don't, but Niko works at the library," Mateo says, side-eying his friend.

"Cool, cool." Shit, I wonder if Niko ever talks for himself. "So, Niko, your dad is the baseball coach? I bet you love baseball, huh?"

"No, actually I hate it. While I was growing up, my dad was obsessed with it, which made me despise it," Niko tells us while rolling his eyes and looking away.

"Oh." Well, shit. What do I say now? I contemplate while pushing my food around my plate, and we all sit in awkward silence. I'm not quite sure what I did to piss Niko off, but it's pretty obvious he doesn't like me. Which is fucking crazy. Everyone likes me! Maybe I just need to try harder to get on his good side. "Do you play any sports?"

"No," he replies curtly.

Okay, then. I turn to Mateo. "What about you?"

"Nah, I'm not really athletic. I did theater in high school."

"Damn, I did a play once in high school. The school was putting on a musical, and I love to sing, so I tried out. I didn't think I would get a part, but I did. It was a ton of fun."

"Drama was always my favorite part of high school. Creelin U has some theater programs, but I've done more behind-the-scenes type things." At least Mateo is talking to me. I have a feeling he and I will get along just fine. It's the sour-faced one I'm unsure about.

"I'll have to keep an eye out. Maybe if it works around my baseball schedule, I can try and get involved."

Our conversations die off as we clean up our table and leave the food court. As much as I want to get to know my roommates more, I also want to head to the Athletics Center and get a workout in. With practice starting tomorrow, I want to make sure I'm somewhat prepared for what's to happen. Coaches tend to run their players ragged on the first day to set the tone for the season.

"I'll catch you both later," I tell them, preparing to spend the rest of the day working out.

Kneeling behind home plate, I place one hand behind my back and the other one out in front of me. The ball whips into my glove with fire, and I smile. I missed this, the grassy smell of the field, the feeling of the ball hitting my glove, and the satisfaction I get tagging someone out who's trying to slide into home plate.

This morning, I had my first set of classes, and they were what I expected. Each professor ran through their syllabus and let us know what to anticipate of the class for the semester. It was pretty boring, and I couldn't stop counting down until practice.

When I first arrived in the locker room, it was filled with all the players I had met on Saturday. The team showed us newbies our lockers with our last names taped on top. Coach explained how our practices would work, and our schedules. Half of practice would be weight training, and the other half would be on the field.

Standing up, I throw the ball back to Sam, which he catches with ease. Sam and I have been on fire this first practice. We work so well together. It's crazy how in sync we are for two people who only just met. Hopefully it stays this way, because Coach seems to be impressed with us.

Trent walks up to the plate, swinging the bat in a circle. I met him earlier today and was blown away when he told me he's a shifter Spiderling. I’ve never met one before. When we first got onto the field, he shifted, and it was a fucking sight to see.

His human body is huge and muscular, but his spider form was enormous. He stands tall at almost seven feet, with eight legs that have to easily span six feet wide when he stretches. He has all these little black eyes that take over his face. I love that he let us see his form before he shifted back to a human. I give him a nod as he walks to the plate, getting into his ready stance. Sam tosses the ball at him, and when I'm sure it's going to be a strike, Trent swings hard and the ball goes flying. He starts rounding the base and I jump up, ripping the face shield off. John, who's in the outfield, scoops up the ball and throws it into the infield. I watch in amazement as Trent rounds the bases. The ball is finally making its way to me, so I rush in front of the plate to catch it, the ball landing easily in my hand. I quickly turn around to catch Trent, my glove hitting his hand just as Coach yells "You're out!"

Hell yeah! Whooping and hollering, Sam runs over from the mound slapping me a high five. Trent stands up grumbling, but smiles and shakes his head when he sees me.

"Thank fuck we're on the same team." We high five each other when Coach Mahone whistles and yells that practice is over for the day.

"For it being our first full practice as a new team, I can see how great of a season we can have. I took note of some weak spots, and we'll make a game plan for practices. Hit the showers. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

I start to walk away when Coach yells my name.

"Yes, Coach?" I ask, turning around to face him.

"Meet me in my office real quick." He nods his head in the direction of the locker room, then he heads off the field.

"Okay," I tell him, nervously. I had a kick-ass practice today; why would he want to see me in private? Sulking past the locker room, I walk into his office and throw myself down on the seat in front of his desk. On the table, I notice he has a family picture of him, his wife, and two kids. I can see an adorable younger Niko in the picture, and I smile. He's under Coach's arm, his eyes rolled mid-photo. Seems as though he's always annoyed. I chuckle at my own thoughts, even more curious about the snake-headed boy I'm rooming with.

"You had a great practice today, King. You're a hard worker, and a hell of a player."

"Thank you..." I trail off, not knowing where he's going with this.

"So, I took a look at your transfer paperwork, seeing what previous classes you took, how well you did. Or rather how well you didn't do."

"Ah." I get it now. While I wasn't failing my classes last year, I was dangerously close to it. My previous coach did the same song and dance talk with me about how I would lose my spot if I didn't bring my grades up and keep them up.

"Now, I don't want you to be kicked off the team due to your grades. And while some of your courses will be a little different being at Creelin U, most of your classes are academic." He's right. While humans have to take an Intro to Monsterkind class, all of my other classes are purely academic. Which could easily fuck up my chance of staying on the team.

"Okay, agreed. I promise to study my ass off–" He clears his throat, cutting me off, and I chuckle. "Sorry, study my butt off, and keep my grades up. I didn't fail last year. I can do it again. No problem."

"I have no doubts. However, I want to make sure you keep your grades up, so I arranged for a tutor to help you."

"Coach, I don't need a tutor," I protest, getting defensive. "I can do it myself."

"Maybe. But I need my starting catcher to make sure he does well academically."

"Starting catcher?" I repeat, momentarily stunned. I knew it was a possibility, but I wasn't sure if the decision was final.

"Hell yes, King. After watching how in sync you and Sam were out there on the field, I would be crazy not to have you both start. Keep it up in practice, and the spot is yours. But you won't be able to keep it if you start failing a class."

"Fine," I relent. "Set me up with the tutor."

"You got it. Even though you didn’t really have a choice." He snickers and I smile. My previous Coach was never friendly, so it’s a welcome change.

I stand up and shake Coach's hand. One of his snakes slithers out from under his baseball cap and stares at me. I wonder if Coach knows I'm living with his son. Oh well, I'm not going to tell him.

"Thanks, Coach."

"No problem."

Walking to the door, I turn around, realizing I forgot to ask an important question, "Oh, Coach? Who did you set me up with for tutoring? Do I know them?"

"I'm not sure if you know him, but it's my son, Nikolai."

Smiling at Coach, I fake a smile. "Oh, nice."

Oh, fucking hell. The one person who's supposed to help me is someone who apparently hates me.