“We need to have a talk,” he orders. Everyone quiets down, but their eyes are locked on Leo and me. I hold my breath, anger mingling with embarrassment. I don’t want to be called out like this. I glance sideways at Leo, who narrows his eyes, clearly seething. His defiance isn’t just for show; it lingers, crackling between us. There’s a part of me that wants to call him out for his arrogance, but the coach’s anger keeps my focus sharpened on the repercussions ahead.
“Look, I get that there’s heat between you two,” the coach says, softening slightly, but the gravity remains. “But it needs to stay on the ice. You’ll have to find a way to coexist if you expect to be part of this team. And if you can’t—”
The pause that follows hangs in the air like a suspended puck, heavy with unspoken consequences. “If you can’t, then I’ll have no choice but to bench you both,” he continues, laying out the stakes that ripple through me like a sudden chill.
I can see it now—the inevitable scenario where we become liabilities instead of teammates, separated from the action.In contrast, the others rise to meet our shared goal of the championship. “I won’t let that happen,” I say, determination igniting a fire within me, my voice a steady counterpoint to the tension wrapping around us.
The coach’s eyes narrow, searching my expression. “Good, then you two need to get your heads out of your asses and work together. Otherwise, I’ll take matters into my own hands, and believe me, you don’t want that.”
There’s a hum of silent agreement, a shift that binds the room together momentarily—a pact forged in the heat of our folly. Yet, the undercurrent of conflict between Leo and me still lingers, unresolved, pulsating beneath the surface.
“Understood?” The coach raises an eyebrow, and we both nod, but there’s a challenge between Leo and me, a glimmer in his eye that tells me this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
I manage to smile toward Leo, a bitter twist forming on my lips as I exhale slowly. “Just keep your fists away from me next time, Leo,” I mutter under my breath, the irony laced in every syllable.
He flashes a grin, that same smug confidence surfacing again, the familiar feeling both aggravating and enticing. “You'd better be ready to keep up, Nash,” he replies, cockiness laced through his voice.
“Alright, everyone, gather up,” he calls, his voice a blend of authority and enthusiasm. A silence falls over the room, murmurs dissipating into a breath of curiosity. “We’ve got ourfirst away game of the season coming up, and I want to go over some plans.”
I glance around; the other guys lean in, faces alive with eagerness and camaraderie, but a low thrum of dread starts building within me. There’s a nagging sense of uncertainty settling at the back of my mind, something that hints at the gravity of our previous confrontation lingering in the air.
“Before we dive into strategies and logistics,” the coach continues, pausing dramatically, “I’m laying out the roommate arrangements for our travels.” The air grows thick with anticipation, and a ripple of intrigue passes through the team.
I’m braced for the worst, my heart racing, but nothing can prepare me for what he says next. “Nash and Leo—” he looks directly at us, his voice firm—“you two will be roommates during our away games.”
A stunned silence descends, a collective gasp that feels like a punch in the gut. I stare at Leo, and the horror reflected in his eyes mirrors my own disbelief. My stomach knots; the reality of being thrust into a space with my rival feels overwhelmingly intense. The guys around us burst into laughter and teasing banter, their reactions echoing the whirlwind of conflict brewing beneath my skin.
“Good luck, Nash!” someone shouts, laughter rippling through the locker room as teammates slap me on the back, joining in the playful ribbing. My face burns, frustration boiling just beneath the surface as I shoot a glare in Leo’s direction.
“Looks like you’ll get to keep an eye on me, huh?” Leo tosses out, and the jabs land like well-aimed shots. The laughter around us intensifies, but every smile only grates at the edges of my temper. I want to scoff, to rip him apart verbally. Still, I can’t deny the flutter in my chest at the prospect of sharing a room with him—my mind racing between the ridiculousness of the situation and the conflicting heat bubbling beneath my skin.
“Can’t wait,” I reply dryly, sarcasm woven tightly into my words as I fight against the way my heart races with irritation and attraction. I’m acutely aware of how our dynamic shifts in these moments—how he ignites something in me that is as thrilling as it is maddening.
Chapter 4
Nash
“Good luck this weekend,” Talia, my assistant and best friend, tells me.
I hold my phone close to my ear as I get out of my Jeep. I hired her when I first went pro, and somehow her bossy, sassy demeanor won me over. I had told her all about the situation with Leo, and instead of having my back, she laughed.
“I’m going to need it. Leo is insufferable,” I argue.
Talia laughs, and I can imagine her long, black hair swaying down her back. She’s pretty, even I can see that. “He’s also super hot. But his attitude sucks. Just ignore him.”
“I just don’t understand why the team needs him,” I sigh, walking toward the rink.
The parking lot is filling up quickly. I nod to a few of the other guys as they get out of their cars.
“Well, he may be a playboy with a bad reputation, but he also has the highest stats in the league right now,” Talia reminds me.
“You are not helping,” I growled.
“Sorry. Anyway, I’m working on the PR team's endorsement deal emails for you. The local distillery wants another photo shoot to go with the campaign. I’ll keep you updated on everything. Just have fun,” she says, before ending the call.
I tuck the phone in my pocket as I walk inside the arena. Heading into the locker room, I try to calm my growing nerves.
Leo approaches me while I’m gathering my gear, that infuriating grin still plastered on his face. “What’s wrong, Nash? Afraid you won’t get any sleep?” he teases, his voice layered with mischief. I grit my teeth, every ounce of frustration rising to the surface as I glance his way.
