“I don’t—” My throat tightens. “That was…high school. It didn’t mean anything.”
A soft laugh, humorless this time. “Didn’t mean anything, huh?” He pauses long enough for me to imagine him shaking his head, water dripping off his hair. “You looked at me like it did. That night.”
My chest aches, and the steam suddenly feels suffocating.
He’s right, and he knows it. That night at the championship afterparty—empty hotel hallway, adrenaline still buzzing, him leaning in close, and me frozen, too scared to close the last inch.
And then?—
“Logan…” My voice is barely a whisper over the water.
“Relax, Captain,” he says, and the teasing edge is back, softer this time. “I’m not gonna kiss you in the showers. Unless…”
I snap my head toward the wall, heart in my throat. “Don’t.”
He laughs again, low and warm, like he just won something. “Just checking.”
TWO
LOGAN
I stepout of the locker room feeling clean but still wired. The shower did jack shit to cool me off—not with Captain Todd Shaw one stall over, pretending I don’t exist.
Seeing him again wasn’t exactly a shock. I did my homework before transferring. I knew he was here. Hell, maybe that’s part of why I said yes to the offer.
It’s not like we have some epic, tragic history. I just read the signs wrong when I was younger. Thought he was into me too. Spoiler: he wasn’t. Not a big deal, except for the part where he avoided me like I was contagious after I tried to kiss him.
That alone makes me want to mess with him.
Because he’s either really damn repressed—which is my guess—or he just doesn’t like guys, and the idea freaks him out. Either way, I can’t wait to get under his skin.
The sun hits me hard when I push through the doors, late-morning glare bouncing off the hood of my beat-up Jeep. I’m halfway to unlocking it when I hear quick footsteps behind me.
“Yo, Logan!”
I turn. Daniel—the guy permanently attached to his phone after practice—jogs up, hockey bag thumping against his leg. His dark hair’s still damp, curling a little at the ends.
“Hey,” I say, leaning against the Jeep as I reach it.
“You heading toward campus?” He’s slightly out of breath. “My ride bailed, and I live in the dorms. Don’t feel like walking.”
“Yeah, hop in.”
He tosses his bag in the back and slides into the passenger seat while I start the Jeep. The engine rumbles to life, low and rough, and I ease us out of the lot. I’m still buzzing from the morning.
Daniel’s not shy. “So—you’re the transfer, right? From Westbridge?”
“Yep.” I check the mirrors and merge into traffic.
“Cool. You looked good out there. Pretty sure Coach already wants to adopt you.”
I grin. “Good to know.”
He’s quiet for half a beat, then glances over, eyes sharp. “Just so you know, I can always spot family.”
One brow lifts. “Family?”
“You know.” He waves a hand between us. “Gay. Bi. Pan. Whatever flavor. You don’t give off straight-bro energy.”
