Page 111 of Arctic Titans of Northwood U: Volume 1

Luckily for me, the momentary lapse of my judgment was swiftly rectified when Beckett reminded me just how much I detested everything he stood for. “What’s your deal?” he asked sourly, his lips forming an unbearably annoying pout.

“Were you fucking waiting for me?” I demanded. I wished I wore underwear. Whatever the shithead was playing at, I wouldn’t let him affect me. I needed to change into my clothes and Beckett wouldn’t be why I waited. It would only make him think I was hiding something. And I had nothing to be ashamed of, damn him.

“I asked you a question,” he squeezed out through his teeth. He made a step toward me and threatened my territory.

I wasn’t putting up with this today. I faced him fully and made a step toward him, too. Our heights were similar, although Beckett had an inch — maybe a little more — on me. It didn’t matter until we stood so close that I had to slightly lift my chin to look into his eyes. “And I asked you one. Are you stalking me, Partridge?”

He stretched his lips into a disgusted sneer. “I’m so fucking sick of your bullshit, Jones. Are you trying to sabotage me?”

I snorted. “You wish. Your shitty performance is your own fault, Partridge,” I said, jutting my chin out to emphasize my words. I spat his famous name at him.

“Are you so fucking petty that you’d tank your own career just to take me down a peg?” he asked, somehow growing taller. I wanted to look down and see if he was rising on his toes, but that meant I would have to scan his entire naked torso.

“I’m not tanking anything,” I said venomously. If I’d imagined there was a career here for me, I’d been wrong. There was nothing here to tank. “And if your massive ego can’t fit into the confines of reality, that’s none of my fucking business.”

Beckett’s brown eyes flashed with anger. He flinched as though he was about to leap at me but then drew back a step. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

“Spare me,” I said, pulling away, too. The tension was easing only so much that the likelihood of a brawl was lower. It never disappeared, though. I turned away from Beckett and grabbed my duffel. I pulled out my denim shorts and sleeveless black T-shirt, tossed them on the bench, and then placed my underwear on top, giving Beckett a hint.

I wasn’t uncomfortable with nudity in the locker room. This was my space. I didn’t mind taking my towel off around ten other guys. There had never been anything sexual about it. I’d never cared about checking out any of my teammates.

But now, it was only the two of us. And anxiety zinged in me before I could shut it out. Beckett wasn’t turning away. Instead, he crossed his sculpted arms over his broad chest and cocked his head, examining me. It was like he was waiting for something more. Something I wasn’t going to give.

When I glanced at him one more time, there were conflicting emotions on his face. Doubts in his eyes were at war with the angry pursing of his lips. It was like he was weighing what to say next. Soon, he reached a decision, and it was as predictable as anything. “Coach Murray gave me this responsibility because he believes in me. And you’d be smart to trust him if you can’t trust me. This game you’re playing is only gonna hurt you.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with the fact you’re a Partridge.”

“Don’t be a fucking child,” he snapped, angrier than I’d anticipated. I was doing something right. Beckett stepped toward me with the speed that made his uncle famous on the ice. Blood and nepotism. It was the same old story. “I earned this fair and square.”

I spun back in time to face him, his body inches away from mine. We caught each other’s gaze and entered a staring match for a moment, then I spat out, “Prove it.”

“I’ve got nothing to prove to the likes of you, Jones.” He ground the words through his teeth, eyes flashing with hatred.

“You have no idea what I’m like,” I replied a little more calmly. “How could you?” I asked with a shrug. “It’s a wonder you see anything past your entitlement.”

Beckett closed the gap between us, bumping into me hard enough to make this a physical confrontation. But he underestimated me, which surprised no one. I moved my hands forward and grabbed his wrists before he could do anything. I held him tightly, his chest slamming into mine. His arms tensed, but he failed to lift his fists if that had been his aim. “Stop fucking talking about my entitlement. You don’t fucking know me. You’ve no idea where I come from.”

I glared back at him. He was immobilized for the moment, and I basked in seeing him powerless. “Make me.”

Beckett jerked, one arm breaking free of my grip and then shooting to my throat. He grabbed me before I could pull away, his fingers sinking into my flesh. He was firm enough to hold me still, though he wasn’t choking me to death just yet. I managed to grab his wrist again. Pulling back with all my strength, I met the wall with my back and found myself trapped between it and a raging lunatic. “Don’t ever fucking talk about my family,” Beckett snapped. “And don’t make me have to remind you.”

I released both of his wrists, then pressed my open palms against the bunching muscles of his torso and shoved him back. He released me and towered like a monolith two paces away from me. I rubbed my throat. “Great fucking leadership, asshole.”

He seethed with anger, chest expanding and falling. I could see a vein pulsing in his neck.

When I stepped forward, he moved back to let me pass, watching me with all the hatred I felt for him. Not giving a single fuck, I slipped the knot loose and threw my towel at the bench, then picked up my underwear.

Before I did anything else, I turned to face him again. The murderous expression melted into surprise and Beckett hurried away from me. “Real fucking nice,” he muttered.

I bent down and stepped into my boxer-briefs, dragged them up my smooth legs, and tucked my dick and balls comfortably inside. “You’re the creep waiting for me in the locker room.”

“Go fuck yourself,” he snapped and marched to his corner. He lifted a T-shirt and put it on just as I dressed. The awkward part was that we were ready to leave at the same time.

When I met his glare, I found conflict again. He watched me like he was on the verge of saying something, but his lips were sealed tightly, and he was silent.

I bit the bullet, tossed my duffel over my shoulder, and then walked out. Beckett was on my heels, but I hurried to reach each door before we bumped into one another. My throat didn’t hurt the way I would have expected. All he’d done was assert dominance, but that was enough to bruise my ego twice over.

When we were outside, the last of the day’s heat washed over me. I randomly picked my direction, deciding not to have a long, silent race against Beckett between the rink and the team house. My legs carried me to the Thirsty Thinker, far from Beckett. He’d been haunting the house, sulking at the guys who were still going out and acting like they had in the past. His idea, I believed, was that his captaincy was going to miraculously make everyone twice as committed and ten times as talented. Tough fucking luck. If anything, his captaincy just made everyone want to get out of the house.