Ethan
I get to the suite an hour before Noah, which feels like the only small win I'm going to get out of this entire arrangement, so I take it seriously. Two bedrooms, one shared kitchen, one bathroom I already know is going to be a war zone by the end of the week. The bigger bedroom's on the left, more closet space, a window that actually catches morning light instead of the parking lot view the other one gets. I claim it before I've even set my first box down, because if there's one rule I live by, it's that hesitation costs you the good spot every single time.
I unpack fast. Skates on the rack by the door, sticks against the wall where they won't warp, jerseys hung with actual care because I've replaced enough of them to know what happens when you don't. By the time I'm done my side
