Page 38 of Capturing the Captain

I’m in Josh’s room, getting changed into the spare clothes I gave him to keep at his place, for times like this. I haven’t been back since Ryan fucked it all up the first time. I didn’t want to run into him again, because I knew he couldn't keep his mouth shut. Also, with a few guys from the hockey team living in the same building, it just felt too risky. But, I knew I'd be back here eventually, so spare clothes were always a must.

I have them everywhere that I frequent, which lately, isn't many places. There’s a pair of leggings and a top in my car, and a black pantsuit in my office. You never know when you will need to change clothes. I don’t have any at Sasha’s place, but I just steal her clothes when I’m there.

The thought of her has my stomach dropping, and my heart physically hurts. We never fight. Not even a small argument. I don’t know what the hell is going on with her, but the longer she delays in telling me, the more anxious I get. I checked my phone as soon as I woke up this morning, but I haven't heard from her. I tried calling her too, but it went straight to voicemail. I just really hope that she’s okay.

Pulling fresh socks over my feet, I hear the sound of the front door opening along with faint voices. I rush to the bedroom door, shutting it as quietly as I can. Pressing my ear against it, straining to hear who could be at Josh’s door.

“I need to talk to you about something before training. It’s fucking eating at my brain.” I don’t recognize the guy’s voice.

“Can we talk about it later?” Josh asks the man in his kitchen.

“No, Cap. We can’t. I fear my brain will explode over your… Oh, is that bacon?” the guy asks.

“Hands off.” Josh scolds. I can just picture him slapping the guy’s hand away.

“I’ll be quick, okay? But, first, I need to piss. Knight has been throwing up in my toilet all morning, and I swear if I don't go now, I'll be pissing all over your floor.” It’s only when the voice travels closer to me that I realize that it’s Conor.

Panic floods me, and I run around the room like a headless chicken, trying to find somewhere, anywhere to hide. The fucking size of this room and I can’t find even one small corner to hide in. Even the bed is facing the door and there’s no room under it to hide. I’m being such a bitch right now. He won’t even come in here. He’s gonna use the bathroom down the hall, go back to the kitchen, and hopefully Josh can kick him out.

But, what if he does come in here? My stomach churns at that thought. What would he do if he saw me? I like Conor, I really do, but can I trust him that he wouldn't tell anyone about us? I don't know.

If I don’t get out of here soon, I’ll be late for work. The only clothes I gave Josh to keep here for me are baggy sweats and oversized t-shirts, and I cannot go into work looking like this, so I need to swing by my place to change.

It feels like I’ve been stuck here, staring at the door, forever, but realistically, it’s only been like two minutes. Finally, I hear the toilet flush in the next room, along with hearing Conor’s footsteps in the hall. I barely breathe, nervousness and anticipation swirling through me. Just when I think I have the all clear, I hear Conor call out to Josh, “Hey, Cap, I’m just gonna grab a hoodie from your room.” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I spin so he can’t see my face as the door swings open. “It’s fucking freezing in here,” comes from Conor, at the same time that Josh shouts, “No, no, no!”

“Shit, sorry!” Conor calls when he looks into the room, slamming the door shut. It’s fine. I don’t think he saw my face. I spun around before the door was fully open. It’ll be fine.

I hear the door slowly open again, creaking loudly. It felt like it was in slow motion. Maybe it was. I have no idea because I’m still facing the wall. “Olliepop?” Fuck.

22

Josh

This is not good, not good at all. I always knew Matthews’ disrespect for boundaries would get someone in trouble one day, and it turns out… that day is today. I’m honestly surprised it took this long.

“Hi, Conor.” Olivia says to him, her cheeks a violent shade of red, and worry straining her features.

Matthews looks from Olivia to me, and back again, confusion on his face. His mouth is opening and closing like a fish while Olivia and I stay silent. What are we supposed to say? Nothing we say is gonna make this situation any better or worse than it already is.

He looks at me again, “What?” Then back to Olivia, “What?” His voice is an octave higher than it was when he first came in here. He turns on his heel, barging past me, back towards the kitchen.

Olivia looks at me, pleading with her eyes. For what though, I’m not really sure. There’s no explanation that I could give to cover the fact that Olivia is in my apartment, my bedroom, this early in the morning. There’s no work-related reason that she would be here, so really, there’s no rational explanation.

We both follow Matthews to the kitchen. He’s planted his ass on one of the barstools, and I can’t even tell him to stop eating the bacon that he’s currently inhaling. “What the fuck?” He says, his mouth so full that it’s barely audible. Swallowing the mouthful, he clears his throat. “I mean, I do get it. You’re both hot. I wouldn’t say no to either of you.” That earns an eyeroll from both of us. “Plus, you’ve been giving each other ‘sex eyes’ for months now. I think the whole team knew one of you would snap eventually.” My gaze flies to Olivia, whose eyes are so wide, it looks like they're about to pop out of her head. “And, after that performance you put on last night, Olliepop… I don't blame you for finally going for it, Cap.”

Matthews found out about us approximately five minutes ago, and neither one of us has made a single sound. I don’t even think he’s noticed, to be honest. “You must be quite quiet in the bedroom, Olliepop. I didn’t hear a single sound.” My eyes bug out of my head as I gape at Conor. “I mean, nothing like the girl you had in your hotel room a few weeks ago. Now she was a screamer.” I have never seen someone go pale as fast as Olivia just did, as her face turns a ghostly shade of white.

Matthews finally lifts his head to look at us, his eyes darting between the two of us as realization dawns on him. “Holy shit, that was you.” Olivia’s hands fly to her face, hiding the rosy tint on her cheeks. “No,” He draws the word out. “Olliepop, please tell me it’s not true.”

“It’s true.” She states, though it’s muffled from her hands still covering her face.

“Nooo! Do you know how many times I’ve got off just from the sounds of you? It’s fully engrained into my memory.”

“Jesus Christ, man. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Me?” He asks, incredulously. “You cannot seriously blame me for this. You, of all people, know how good that sounds.”

“Stop!” Olivia groans, embarrassment covering her face.