"You know, your grumpy face is bumming everyone out,” I call over to him.
His jaw ticks. For a second, ignoring me completely seems like the likely outcome. Then he moves across the training room and plunks himself down on the bench beside the rookies.
"Okay," he mutters. "Help me stretch."
My pulse jumps. My shaking hands betray me slightly as I position his leg for a hip flexor stretch. He's massive up close, all muscle and heat radiating through his practice gear. Touching him feels dangerous, electric in a way that makes my skin prickle.
Guiding him through the hip opener requires my hands on his knee and thigh. I try to remind myself that I’m a professional. Except my body refuses to cooperate. His skin burns through the thin fabric of his shorts. His muscles coil tight under my palms, resisting the stretch.
God, he's handsome. Even scowling. Especially scowling, if I'm being honest with myself. His dirty blond hair's damp with sweat, pushed back from his forehead, making those blue-gray eyes more intense. A tower of pure muscle, all hard lines and sharp angles.
The athletic shorts ride low on his hips, showing the cut of his obliques. His thighs are massive beneath my hands, corded with muscle from years of explosive skating. The black compression shirt clings to his chest, outlining every ridge of his abs, the breadth of his shoulders. Even his forearms are distracting. They’re veiny and strong, the kind of forearms that make you think about being pinned down. His jaw stays tight, that familiar scowl making him look severe, but there's a flush high on his cheekbones that gives him away.
This is affecting him too.
The sharp line of his jaw catches my attention. The wayhis dirty blond hair falls over his forehead. The intensity in those blue-gray eyes when they lock on mine.
My crush on Silas is proving itself to be very much alive. I look at the curve of his shoulders, the strength in his thighs, and the way his breathing changes when I press deeper into the stretch.
God, I need to get laid, andsoon. Hopefully my sexting buddy will agree to meet up in person because this crush on Silas has gotten completely out of hand. Something, anything, needs to redirect this energy before I do something monumentally stupid.
Ripping Silas’s shirt off, licking his abs, and begging for him to fuck me comes to mind.
"You're good at this," he mutters.
Startled, I blink. It's the closest thing to a compliment he's given me. "Thanks."
Beaming at him probably looks insane, but stopping myself proves impossible. My whole chest warms with the praise. Pathetic, really, how much I crave his approval. This tiny scrap of acknowledgment means everything to me.
Okay. An official crush on Silas Huxley has definitely developed. Well, less developed and more awakened again, after years of dormancy. Whatever existed before I moved into his condo has morphed and grown, doubling itself in size like fresh dough in a proving drawer.
That's all fine... as long as it stays buried. Acting on my feelings, letting them show, or doing anything to make this living situation more awkward than it already is… that can't happen.
So what if he occasionally stands up for me in front of Enzo and lets me pretend he's my boyfriend? He has the emotional depth of a frozen puddle. And that doesn't exactlyscreamrelationship material. Better to keep my distance from him and focus on work.
Finishing the stretch, I step back, putting space between us. "You should do that twice a day. Morning and night. It'll help with your stride and take pressure off your shoulder."
He nods, then stands and walks away, leaving me standing there with my hands still tingling from touching him.Damn it.
Later, the staff lounge becomes my workspace as I review Mobility Monday metrics. Juliet breezes in with Mollie in tow. Mollie looks frazzled, clutching a tablet like it's a life raft in stormy seas.
"Scout, perfect timing." Juliet's smile is sharp and efficient. "Mollie's shadowing me on the promo shoot next week. She'll be wrangling Thorne for the social media content."
Mollie groans, her face going pink. "I'd rather die."
Tilting my head, amusement bubbles up at her reaction. "That bad?"
"He's impossible," Mollie mutters, not meeting my eyes. "All charm and zero substance. I can't stand him."
"So you know each other?"
Though it didn't seem possible for Mollie to blush any harder, she manages it. "Unfortunately. He and my brother go way, way back. To them, I'll always be a nuisance in pigtails."
"I bet you look amazing in pigtails."
"Yeah, well." Mollie sighs and looks at Juliet. "Juliet's been helping me get ready. If we can get the players on board to help, we can really boost the team's TikTok account."
"You're doing such a good job, Mollie. I'm sure this will turn out well." Juliet turns to me, tablet out and open to a document. "Also, I added your name to the Recovery Protocol documentation. I gave you co-author credit. It's going to the coaches and GM today."
