I look up, my heart dropping into my stomach.
Several hockey players are sprawled across the bench seats, munching on chips and clearly entertained by the disaster unfolding below them.
And sitting right in the center, his long legs stretched out, arms crossed over his chest, is Raiden Blackwell.
He’s watching me. Of course he is.
He nods as our eyes meet.
I want to die. I want the ice to crack open and swallow me whole.
5
Chapter 5
Idrag myself to the locker room after everyone else has left, my legs still trembling from the disaster on the ice. The lights hum overhead, casting harsh shadows across the rows of metal lockers.
I chose my locker specifically for privacy, it tucked away in a small corridor branching off the main changing area. Only four lockers here, and they’re rarely used. It’s dim and quiet, exactly what I need when I’m trying to avoid being seen.
The shower is quick. I scrub away the sweat and humiliation as fast as I can, letting the hot water burn against my bruised knees. When I shut off the water and grab my towel, wrapping it around my hips, I’m already planning my escape route.
Get dressed, get out, forget this entire nightmare ever happened.
I pad barefoot down the corridor toward my locker, water still dripping from my hair down my neck and shoulders.
And then I see him.
Blackwell is sitting on the narrow bench in front of my locker, legs spread wide, taking up almost the entire space. He’s still in his usual black athletic pants and a fitted Beasts t-shirt that clings to every muscle in his chest and arms.
He’s staring at me.
I nearly shout in surprise, my hand flying to clutch the towel at my hip.
“What the hell are you doing here?” My voice comes out higher than intended.
He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move. Just looks at me with those odd blue eyes, his gaze traveling slowly from my face down to my bare chest, my stomach, the edge of the towel.
Heat floods my entire body, not just my face, but everywhere. My skin feels like it’s on fire.
A cocktail of emotions surges through me: embarrassment, fury, confusion, and something else I absolutely refuse to name.
I straighten my spine, lifting my chin despite the fact that I’m standing here practically naked while he’s fully clothed and completely in control.
“Well?” I demand, my voice sharper now. “Are you going to answer me or just sit there?”
“You shouldn’t be so worried all the times, Patton,” he says finally, his voice low and even.
“Worried? I’m not—” I bite off the words. “Just move. I need to get to my locker.”
He doesn’t move.
Because of how wide his legs are spread, there’s barely any room to maneuver. I’m forced to stand sideways to the bench, angling my body awkwardly to reach the locker door. My fingersfumble with the combination lock while I’m hyperaware of how close he is, how his shoulder is inches from my hip.
I manage to get the locker open and start pulling things out, my backpack, my clothes. I set the backpack on the bench between us, trying to create some kind of barrier.
“Should I expect the rest of the hockey team to show up?” I ask, unable to keep the irritation out of my voice. “Since this corner of the locker room is apparently so popular now?”
“No one would dare come herenow.”
