Page 71 of Chaos At Second Sight

“Those guys are toothpicks,” Tank Man barked, high-fiving me.

The crowd kept shouting my nicknames. Terminator. Thor. But all I wanted to hear was Rudolph.

I popped my neck and rolled my shoulders. I’m calm.

My team and I migrated to the locker room. I slouched on a bench, crushing a water bottle in my fist the same way I’d crushed the other captain’s neck. He’d punched me, but that wasn’t the problem. Your mate’s hot stuff, he had said and laughed. Bet her pussy is as good as her face.

The damaged larynx was deserved.

Speaking of mates…had she texted me? I’d already checked twice in the last hour—I’d jogged back to the changing room mid-game to look at my phone.

I grabbed my phone from my front pocket. Many notifications littered my inbox, ignorable messages from ignorable names. I swiped the screen twice, the sweat dripping from my neck not letting me unlock it at first, and opened Bunny Doc’s chat.

Nothing.

Fuck.

I grimaced, my brows furrowing.

How’s this supposed to work? Do I text her again? Why isn’t she texting me? She’s supposed to want to hear from me all day long, right?

I counted on my fingers—three hours and forty-two minutes. The last message was mine, confirming tonight’s plans. She was going to come over after class and after meeting with her human friend. We’d missed yesterday because she’d been buried in work, her schedule jam-packed. I had to share her with too many people.

The itch flared again, and my nails raked over my arms, leaving angry red welts.

“What’s gotten into you?” Killian asked, hands on a towel around his neck. “Can’t still be pissed about the ref.”

“You’re a lucky bastard, T,” Greg interjected between gulps of water. “Anyone else would’ve been disqualified for the whole game.”

“Refs are scared of our captain.” Tank Man laughed, rubbing a towel over his shaved head, the octopus tattooed on his scalp moving with it. He then used it to clean the inside of his belly button—something weird he always seemed to do.

“I don’t give a shit about the suspension.” My eyes never left my phone. I typed, deleted, typed again…deleted it.

Killian watched me. “Then what the⁠—”

“He’s in looove!” Callum sang, swaggering in with the most punchable grin. “But his maaate isn’t giving him attention.”

Ever since he’d found his mate, happiness leaked out of his every pore like sweat. I watched with a frown as he pulled out his own phone, read something, and grinned like a buffoon. I huffed when he started typing, probably to his mate.

“Phones aren’t allowed in the locker rooms.” I snatched it.

“Give it back, dickhead!”

I wiggled my brows. “Come get it.”

He lunged, but I tossed it to Killian.

“Amaaaia!” Killian blew kisses at the screen. Callum punched him hard in the stomach and reclaimed his precious possession.

“Jealous bastards.” Callum glared at his twin. “You because you don’t have a mate.”

“Aunt’s tits saved me from being this whipped!” Killian headed for the shower butt naked, a gun tattooed on one cheek that said, HEAVY ARMORY, BEWARE.

“And you”—I lifted my eyes to meet Callum’s—“because yours isn’t texting you back.”

Damn right.

I tore my shorts and boxers off, leaving them where they landed, and stepped into a shower. I turned it to an Antarctic temperature and let the jets soothe the damn itch. Finally.