Page 42 of The Golden Receiver

I’d completely forgotten I was wearing them. They had paw prints on them, a gag gift from one of my pack mates last Christmas. I thought they were adorable, but they probably weren’t the best pants to wear to go check on Kieran. I turned off the video game. “Thanks. I’m going to go change!”

I didn’t wait for Preston to answer before I went back to my room. I changed out of my pajamas and into a pair of jeans. Luckily, my shirt was a plain black tee so I didn’t have to worry about finding anything else. I didn’t bother with my sneakers since I was just going down to the fifth floor. I found an old pair of flip flops that I’d tossed at the bottom of my closet and slid them on. I stuck my phone in my pocket and left.

I heard Preston call good luck to me as the door closed.

Maybe I should get to know my roommates a little more. Preston seemed pretty cool.

I took the stairs down to the fifth floor and paused. I realized the flaw in my plan; I didn’t know which room was Kieran’s. I had watched him get off the elevator before, but I’d never been to his room. I thought about texting him. My hand was in my pocket, and I was about to pull out my phone when I caught a whiff of his too-familiar scent. I breathed in deep, filling my senses with him. I started down the hallway the way I’d seen him go when he got off the elevator.

The smell was stronger, but I didn’t think I could pick out which door he was behind. I thought about shifting and going full bloodhound, but I decided that might be a little too much. Instead, I decided to use my other senses. I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds and smells around me. I took another step. I thought I heard someone say his name further down the hallway, but I couldn’t be too sure.

I could be sure about the sound of a song playing a few doors down. It sounded tinny, the way it had when he’d been listening to it in the gym. I took another sniff and kept walking. I stopped in front of the door where the music was loudest and the smell was strongest. I opened my eyes and stared at the door like it would give me some kind of answer. There were no signs or anything, nothing that told me if I was at the right place. I just had to take a leap.

I knocked.

I could hear movement behind the door: a whisper, a door closing, heavy footsteps coming toward me. I heard the click of the door unlocking. I was surprised when it opened. I was expecting a human. Most of the time, humans roomed with humans. But the man standing in front of me, practically glaring at me, was distinctly a monster.

Maybe I had the wrong room.

“Can I help you?” the man asked. His voice was strangely professional, far more than I’d expect from anyone answering a dorm door.

“I—uh,” I rubbed at the back of my neck nervously. “I think I maybe have the wrong room. I was looking for… Actually, that doesn’t matter. This is clearly not the right room.”

Except the room smelled so much like Kieran. It was like his scent was assaulting me from behind the open door.

The man nodded. “Who are you looking for? Maybe I can tell you where their room is.”

Okay, so he was helpful. That was nice. I liked helpful people. “Kieran Sawyer. He’s on the footb⁠—”

“You’ve got the right room,” the man cut me off. I expected him to open the door and let me in, but he didn’t. He stayed exactly where he was, his large body filling the open part of the door. “Who are you?”

Who was I? Who was he?

Right. Probably someone who lived there. I sighed. “Evander Hemmings. I’m on the football team with him.” The man studied me like I was something interesting. I didn’t know what he thought he was going to see. I felt the need to explain myself more. Maybe I needed to say more to get him to open the door and let me in. “I wanted to check on him. Since he got hurt, I mean. See how he was doing. If he needed anything?” I was rambling. Exactly what Preston accused me of doing that morning. I sucked in a deep breath. “So, can I come in?”

He nodded and finally stepped back to let me in. I noticed the way he positioned his body, like he was trying to use it to block me from seeing anything past him. “I’ll show you to his room.”

“You could just point out which one is his,” I suggested.

He glared at me like I’d suggested he throw a kitten out of a skyscraper window. “I will show you to his room,” he repeated, his voice hard as stone.

I decided that arguing with him was pointless. I just nodded and let him lead me down the hallway to the room at the end. He rapped his knuckles against the door twice, and I was shocked at how loud he knocked. The noise did not match the force he was using.

“Whoever it is, just come in,” I heard Kieran grumble through the door.

I looked at the tall man. He nodded. I pushed open the door and strode in like Kieran was expecting me.

Kieran was lying on his bed in a pair of shorts. The dark green comforter underneath him was rumpled, and I could see a corner of his mattress from underneath the matching sheet. There were clothes all over the room, and a laptop open next to his bed showing off a black screen. His desk was covered with empty water bottles and a giant tub of Bro-tein powder. I could smell the chemicals through the closed container. There were a few empty bottles of the sports drink he liked sitting around too. There were a few boxes still packed, pushed up against the far wall of his dorm. A few pieces of clothing hung over the sides of the boxes. Most of the surfaces in his room had something on it.

And I’d thought my room was a bit of a mess when I’d had him over.

“Hey,” I greeted as I stepped around a pile of clothing on the floor to walk closer to him.

Kieran looked at me before sitting up on the bed. “Didn’t expect to see you.” His voice sounded rough, and there were bags under his eyes.

I took a deep breath, trying to pick up what I could from his scent. It smelled duller than it usually did, like he’d found a way to turn down the intensity. I didn’t know what it meant, but I knew that I didn’t like it. Every time there was a small change to his scent, it meant that something was wrong.

Obviously something was wrong. He got hurt in a game. “How are you doing? Do you think you’ll be good for practice tomorrow?”