The following week I engaged in full hockey robot mode, delving hardcore into conditioning and practice. My teammates, all except Sal, thought I was nuts, but even the most reluctant of them respected my game. I worked harder than most of them combined, and that’s not me trying to brag. It was the literal truth, and everyone knew it.

Between training and class, I was almost able to block out the trauma of Steve and his girlfriend—I had recently learned that her name was Shannon—having sex in our room all the goddamn time, sometimes even while I was still in there. The two of them seriously had no shame. As much as I tried not to look, I think I was more familiar with Steve’s naked body than Peter’s now. The thought of which was more than a little disturbing. It was almost like Steve was asking me to beat the crap out of him, and if subjected to one more night full of Shannon’s moaning, I might have done so.

On this particular day, I was freshly showered and heading back to my room from the gym. Coach Hawthorne had suggested some light weightlifting to strengthen my forearm and further increase my shooting accuracy. Judging by the dull ache I felt all the way up my biceps, I might have overdone it. I was worrying about how this soreness might affect me at practice tomorrow morning when I spotted a stranger lurking in the hall just outside of my room.

Upon looking at him, my heart gave an instant traitorous thump. He was better looking than anyone had any right to be. His hair was long and dark, and his eyes were a rich shade of green. His shoulders were broad, and he filled out his clothes nicely without being as bulky and muscular as I was. He was wearing faded jeans and a brown leather jacket over a vintage band tee even though it was ninety-eight degrees and he was probably sweating bullets underneath. He looked like an 80s heartthrob of the sensitive bad boy variety. All that was missing was a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“Can I help you?” I asked, slightly out of breath.

The hot guy slowly pushed himself off the wall and glanced up at me. His eyes were fluttery and a little wild, as if they were taking me in without really seeing me. His thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

“I’m looking for Steve,” he said. His voice was nice. Deep and just a little bit husky, perfectly matching his rocker aesthetic.

“This is his room,” I said, digging out my key, “but I think he’s got class right now.” Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t be here.

The hot guy shrugged and leaned back against the wall again. “Guess I’ll keep waiting then.”

There was an odd undercurrent to his words that I couldn’t quite place. I had no idea what someone like him would want with a guy like Steve, or why it was so important that he was haunting our doorstep instead of just coming back later.

I unlocked the door and then hesitated.

“What did you say your name was?” I asked.

Hot guy glanced over at me with mild interest.

“Mark… Mark Olsen,” he said evenly.

I nodded and twisted the knob.

“I’m Carter Haynes. Did you, uh, want to come inside to wait for him or something?”

It probably wasn’t the brightest idea inviting a stranger into the place where I slept, but I felt bad just leaving him out in the hallway for God knows how long. Besides, he was cute, and I wanted to keep looking at him.

Mark nodded, thanked me, and followed me inside. His eyes flitted around the room erratically, just as they had on my face. His gaze seemed to linger just a second too long on Steve’s bed, almost as if he could sense what happened on that surface on a near daily basis, and sometimes more often than that.

Mark kept his expression neutral as he moved past Steve’s side of the room and sat down on the edge of my bed. He stared at the wall in front of him, saying nothing.

I took a steadying breath and sat down at my desk to work on my history paper. Alas, all I seemed capable of was reading the rubric six times over without retaining a single word. It was kind of hard to focus with Mr. Dreamy just sitting there, and on my bed no less.

Finally, after about an hour and a half, Steve finally graced us with his presence. He stumbled in with his eyes narrowed and his hair messed up. He smelled faintly of weed. I stopped pretending to read and watched as my roommate peeled off his socks.

“Who’s he?” he asked, glancing at Mark.

I furrowed my brows and looked back and forth between the two men.

“I thought you two knew each other…”

Mark was still as a statue on top of my bed. The only real indication of his state of mind was that his fists were clenched into my sheets. He waited for Steve to finish taking off his shoes and then stood, taking short but menacing strides until they were face to face. Mark was significantly taller. His eyes were zeroed in on Steve as if he were the only thing he’d actually seen all day. His body was fraught with tension and as I was watching his jaw gave the tiniest of twitches.

For a brief, awful second, I was sure Mark was going to lean in and kiss him. Then he reached out, quick as a whip, and punched him in the face instead. Steve crumpled to the ground with a string of curses, blood streaming out of his nose. I sprung up from my chair, unsure of what to do. All of the tension seemed to leave Mark’s body after the blow. He stooped down and leaned over his victim.

“Stay away from my sister,” he said dangerously.

I realized then that the undercurrent I had sensed in his voice earlier had been hatred. It had been hard to detect since it wasn’t directed at me.

Steve didn’t respond to the threat. He just shrank back further and continued clutching at his injured face. Mark stepped back and straightened his jacket. Studying him now, it was obvious that he was related to Shannon. They had the same nose and eyes and fair skin tone. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t picked up on it sooner. In my defense, I had been busy ogling him for different reasons.

Mark glanced over at me and met my stare. For just this one split second I felt like I had his full, undivided attention.

“It was nice meeting you,” he told me and then he moved around Steve’s hunched form and out the door, slamming it closed behind him.

“Why the fuck did you let him in here?” Steve whined, moving into a sitting position.

I went to the tiny freezer to retrieve one of my gel ice packs and handed it to him.

“I didn’t know who he was. He was standing out in the hallway waiting for you. I thought he was like a lab partner or something. I didn’t know he was Shannon’s brother. I didn’t even know she had a brother.” I’d only previously noticed that she had a tattoo of a dolphin on her lower back and weirdly shaped areolas.

Steve groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“Shannon’s going to kill me!” he proclaimed. “She may never talk to me again.”

I bit at the skin around my thumb and tried to hold back my immense surge of jubilation at the thought.

In that moment, Mark Olsen was much more than just eye candy. He was my hero.