We do and I try very hard to keep my glare. His smirk is bigger now while I continue to try to appear hostile. I have animosity in me, right?
Notjealousy. He can look at whoever he wants and appreciate how hot they are. Noahispretty. That’s just a fact. Anyone can see it. Lo is allowed to appreciate that.
He steps closer and our foreheads come together. “What’s wrong, Caulder?” he murmurs, just above a whisper. I’m not sure if he can be overheard so I don’t answer.
Lo chuckles, his hands tangling in my jersey at my chest.
Heat rushes through me. Fuck. Even through this damn padding, I can feel the heat of his hands on my chest. Just as they were right before we left our room!
“What’re you thinking about?” he whispers.
“I’m going to wipe your face on the ice,” I mutter. “Stop.”
He pulls me closer, and I finally respond by bringing my hands up to shove at him. Because neither of us are wearing our gloves and don’t have our sticks, his grip on me is tight. I shove at him harder, but he just laughs.
We end up in a scuffle as I try to peel him off me and Lo just holds tighter. After a few minutes, we’re half wrestling and laughing. I manage to get him off me and onto the floor, on his back, with my knee to his chest. The triumph I feel as I stare down at him only magnifies when he rolls his eyes.
I’m pulled out of the moment when the flashes of the camera finally register again and I remember we’re not alone. Fuck. A brief flash of panic surges through me. Lo’s hand grips mine for a second and I stare into his eyes.It’s okay. We’re playing.
Taking a breath, I get to my feet and pull him with me by his pads.
“So strong,” he teases.
I huff. “You’re insufferable.”
“Good job, guys,” the man says. “Go ahead back.”
My face is still flushed. My heart is racing, and my breathing is slightly shallow. But I can pretend it’s from the exertion of all that energy in pads. Wrestling in hockey pads—brilliant idea.
We don’t sit next to each other since it’s not an option. Which is probably a good thing. I think my face would remain red as if I had to.
Ethan leans into me after I take a drink from one of the water bottles. “Everything okay between you two?” he asks, keeping his voice down.
I glance at the others around us. Not so much to see if they’re listening, but to see if anyone’s looking at me or Lo. No one is. Maybe that means most of what we did up there didn’t look as… heated as it felt.
Not to anyone but someone who knows me better than just a passing figure. Like Ethan. And maybe Mattias.
“Yeah,” I answer, trying to laugh. “Just messing around. Rivalry and all that.”
He studies my face, and I don’t think he’s entirely convinced.
“Honestly, just in fun. We get along fine. I swear. No bad blood or arguments or anything.”
Ethan nods slowly, his attention shifting to Lo a few bodies down on his other side. Lo, who’s fucking watching me again!
I silently curse him, glaring at him from the other side of Ethan. His eyes meet mine and he grins, but finally turns away to talk to whoever’s on his side. I don’t know who because I can’t look anywhere else.
Sitting back just before Ethan turns to me again and I can hide the fact that I was looking at Lo in return, I take another drink.
“Jakub says he’s a nice guy,” Ethan says.
“He is a nice guy,” I agree. With a really fucking nice mouth. And a nice body. A nice smile. I shake my head. “I didn’t come down this morning complaining like Drick was, did I?”
“No, but to be fair, that man complains about everything. I can’t imagine Link is awful to room with, though I can’t say that from experience.”
“I’m not,” Link says, probably having tuned in to his name. “I’m a considerate roommate. Drick is dick.”
We laugh.
