Craved By The Cursed Hockey Alpha
Weekends were… collaborative?
I didn’t judge. Much. But it was objectively one of the weirdest dynamics I’d ever witnessed, and I lived in a house full of teenage boys who mutated into giant, bloodthirsty wolves under a full moon. The bar for "weird" was already astronomically high, but the twins consistently cleared it.
The room fell quiet. Just me, the roaring rain, and brooding Adrian.
“I’m going to look for Black,” he said, standing up.
Black. His snake. His pitch-black, venomous reptile that he kept in a massive heated terrarium in his quarters and treated with more affection than he’d ever shown another person.