The Tutor (BOOK 2: OMEN KING SERIES)

|𝟷𝟸|

Jenny Johnson

When I enter, the dorm is exactly how I envisioned it: chaotic. The couch is covered in dirty clothes, and there's a pile of empty beer cans next to the door, their labels peeling and faded. A stack of textbooks sits on the coffee table, untouched-clearly, they aren't for studying. Unless the goal is to pass the class by drinking as many beers as possible.

Tim is sprawled on the couch, his attention glued to the TV, which is playing a replay of one of his hockey games. He doesn't seem to notice me, even though I'm standing right in the middle of this mess. Owen Hall is slumped on the opposite couch, his head resting back, eyes shut, looking completely drained, like he's one bad decision away from collapsing. Kohl Warren is passed out in the armchair, snoring softly, limbs dangling awkwardly, like a marionette whose strings have been cut.

Tim finally notices me, and a slow grin spreads across his face. "Little Johnson, my favorite coach's daughter," he coos, his voice laced with amusement. "What brings you to this lovely den of debauchery?"

I raise an eyebrow, not in the mood for his nonsense. "I'm here for Romeo."

"Is Bianca not enough for you?" Tim frowns, and I can't help but feel a flash of confusion. "Now you have to go and steal my best friend too?"

Bianca? What does she have to do with this? When did I ever give off the impression that I wanted Romeo? Or that I was trying to steal him from Tim? I feel a heat rise in my cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and understanding.

"Wait, no-"

"Tim," a voice snaps, sharp and irritated, cutting me off. We both turn to see Romeo standing in the doorway, his expression thunderous. There's a flicker of relief at seeing him, yet my heart races in the confusion of it all.

"I'm sorry, blondie," he mutters, his tone suddenly apologetic. "Tim can be a bit of an idiot sometimes."

Tim rolls his eyes, flopping back onto the couch, the movement lazy, like he's already forgotten about me. "Yep, that's me, a massive idiot."

Honestly, I have no idea what's even going on anymore.

Owen's voice rumbles low, barely audible, but the threat is clear. "If you don't shut up, I'm going to put you in a coma."

Tim laughs, the sound too loud, too obnoxious. He's obviously enjoying himself. "You'll have to wake Kohl up first, and good luck with that."

Kohl stirs, mumbling something under his breath, then his head falls back again, the snoring resuming. Everyone bursts into laughter as he accidentally hits his chin against his chest, his eyes fluttering open for a second before slipping shut again.

"Shit," he mumbles, rubbing his chin, his voice thick with sleep. "Where's my girl? I miss her."

Owen glances at him, chuckling. "I don't think she's here, buddy."

If meeting Ant wasn't strange enough, now I'm standing in the middle of a bunch of sleepy hockey players. They look so tired, and I'm wondering what exactly is going on. But then, when Romeo clears his throat loudly, all eyes turn toward me-three eyes, hazel, brown, and blue.

"Shit, it's Little Johnson," Kohl murmurs, blinking, his voice still thick with sleep.

Little Johnson? Seriously? Is that how I'm known now? First it was just Johnson, now Little Johnson. I guess that's a reference to being related to the coach, but is it supposed to be an insult? I feel a knot tighten in my stomach.

"Yeah, and she's here to tutor me," Romeo explains, his expression softening. "So go back to your nap, or whatever it was that you were doing."

Kohl nods, his eyes already closing, the weight of his exhaustion too much to fight. "Gotcha." And just like that, he's back asleep, his snores filling the room again.