He dodges me at the Halloween party after running off, dodges me in the dining hall, dodges me at the gym, and at Monday morning lift he manages the Olympic-level feat of not looking in my direction once.
It’s almost impressive. Really, I have to hand it to him for being so determined to pretend I don’t exist, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m growing tired of this back and forth, especially when it’s not as obvious that he’s tormented by either my presence or my absence.
He can avoid me all he wants, but I want it to hurt, dammit.
Luckily for me, Coach McCoy announces that Beck will be running the pre-practice film review Monday night. I make sure to get there early so I can settle into a seat with the perfect vantage point. I sit back with my arms folded behind my head, watching him fumble with the remote and straighten his notes twice before it starts.
He’s cute when he’s trying too hard.
Once he gets started, he remembers that he’s comfortable taking control when it comes to this team and the rest of his life. He just doesn’t want to be in control when it comes to me. Something warm and fuzzy unfurls in my chest, growing twice as large when Beck notices me smiling and forgets what he’s doing. He probably thinks I’m up to something, planning a way to humiliate him, when really, he’s the only one who’s ever made himself feel inferior in public.
We’ve gone over most of the intra-squad showcase footage, talking through probable opponents for next Sunday’s duals, and breaking down what we did well and what we didn’t. Most of the team offers basic comments.
Coach seems to feel that Beck’s presentation is missing something, and I have to agree. Taking the remote from Beck, he pulls upourmatch, freezing it just before the first period. On the screen, there we are, faced off and getting ready to take things to another level that he definitely didn’t see coming. Neither did I, but I just couldn’t help matching his energy with some of my own.
“Let’s talk about this one,” he says. “Best match of the night. Beckett and Miller had the closest score. It was the match of the night to call, but ultimately it went to Miller. Let’s find out why.”
Beck stiffens beside the projector, and I feel a giddiness perk me up like a shot of espresso. I lean forward, elbows on my knees, feigning interest in the video when really I’m more focused on him.
Coach runs a clip from the third period, and the team watches. On the screen, we’re in tight, shifting weight. Beck tries to roll out of my trap but can’t quite get the momentum.
“There,” I say, pointing. Coach pauses the tape, rolling back to the moment I stopped him, and waits for me to explain. I smirk at Beck. “Your hips are too high. If you’d backed it up another inch, you could have flipped me.”
I throw him a wink, and he scowls so hard I can feel the heat moving up his neck. A few guys whistle, and a couple laugh. Beck does his best to ignore everyone and moves on too quickly, voice higher than normal and his face darkening.
Ooh, I’m going to pay for that.A delicious ache pulses between my legs at the thought.
When we finally get to the end of practice, we line up to spar. Beck is on his A-game, maybe a little too aggressive. Snappy and irritated for sure. It’s fun.
At one point, we end up in almost the same position we were on that screen. Only this time, I make him stop by pulling his hip up and into me. His ass presses into my crotch.
“See? Like this,” I murmur, splaying my hand over his stomach and feeling his abs clench. My cock fills with blood, and I know he can feel me growing against him.
This time, I’m the one too distracted by my boner to react fast enough. Beck flips me just how he should have during that match, laying me flat out on my back and pinning me down.
“You’re too cocky for your own good,” he snaps.
I smirk. “I’m cocky because I can back it up.” I thrust my hips a little for good measure.
His face does that flustered pretty thing again. He shoves me harder, but that’s just foreplay at this point.
Jay and Aaron flank me on the sidewalk after practice.
Jay elbows me. “Dude, is everything okay between you and Beckett?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“He seemed a little more murderous today than he usually does,” Jay laughs.
“Oh,” I say deadpan. “That just means he loves me.”
They both choke on air.
“He what?” Aaron asks.
“He loves me,” I repeat. “He’s just not ready to admit it yet.”
Jay snorts. “Pretty sure he can’t stand you.”
