8. Niall
CHAPTER 8
NIALL
Blades scraped against the ice, bodies colliding as sticks clashed in a battle for control. The scrimmage had started out clean, but by the third period, frustration bled into every shift. Micah drilled Roman into the boards, not hard enough for a penalty in a real game, but enough to earn Coach AJ’s sharp whistle.
“Dial it back, Whitmore,” Coach barked. “It’s a scrimmage, not a damn street fight.”
Micah skated away, jaw tight, looking more annoyed than sorry. Roman shoved him for good measure. “Keep your elbows to yourself, asshole.”
Nico coasted between them, grinning like this was all part of the fun. “Come on, boys, save it for the real games. We’re all on the same side, remember?”
Micah scowled, but he let it go.
From the crease, Logan tapped his stick against the post. “Can we wrap this up before I start calculating how many times I have to disinfect my gear?”
Hunter snorted. “Nobody’s stopping you, Hayes. Go ahead, count.”
“Seventeen,” Logan muttered. “And that’s just for the pads.”
I exhaled sharply, pushing off toward center ice as Coach AJ signaled the end of the scrimmage. It had been a mess—bad passes, sloppy defensive coverage, and too much heat when we needed control. I should’ve kept them steady. That was my job. But I’d been off my game all morning.
And I knew exactly why.
By the time we hit the locker room, the tension had mostly burned off, replaced by the usual post-practice banter. The air was thick with sweat and damp gear, the sound of tape ripping and skates clattering against the floor filling the space.
Hunter dropped onto the bench, rubbing a towel over his face. “I’m just saying, if Micah’s gonna throw cheap shots, at least make ’em count.”
Micah flipped him off. “I wasn’t throwing cheap shots.”
“Uh-huh. Tell that to Roman’s ribs.”
Roman yanked his jersey over his head, rolling his shoulders. “I’ll live. But you owe me a beer, Whitmore.”
“Like hell I do.”
Nico grinned, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Team bonding, Micah. It’s important.”
Logan, already halfway through lining up his gear in a precise, methodical order, sighed. “What’s important is getting through the season without someone breaking a collarbone in practice.”
I stayed quiet, tugging off my skates, letting the noise wash over me. Normally, I’d throw in some gruff remark to keep them in line, but my head was somewhere else.
Or, more accurately, on someone else.
Eli.
Yesterday, he got me talking. Actually talking. And worse—I hadn’t hated it.
That pissed me off more than anything.
He had this way of getting under my skin. I hadn’t even realized how much I’d been holding back until I started talking to him. I was straight to the point—cut and dry—always. But yesterday? I actually told him stuff about… shit, about myself .
I never opened up to anyone. Never. But somehow, I did with Eli. It felt... easier, somehow. Like the weight had lifted for a moment.
And that made me want to throw up. Because I shouldn’t have let it happen. I shouldn’t have liked it.
But it wasn’t even just the conversation. It was the way he listened—like he truly cared . I don’t know what the hell it was, but the whole thing made me feel... good. Too good. And that pissed me off more than I cared to admit.
I grabbed my shower kit and headed toward the showers. The familiar sound of water running was calming, and I let it wash over me. The sharp, clean scent of soap filled the air as I scrubbed at the grime of practice. The heat of the water loosened my muscles, but it did nothing to ease the tightness in my chest. I stood under the spray, wondering how the hell I had gone from keeping everyone at arm’s length to talking to Eli like I’d known him for years.
I rinsed off quickly, not wanting to waste any more time stewing over something I couldn’t figure out. My head was too messy, too full. I couldn’t think straight.
After drying off, I dressed in my usual black hoodie and sweatpants, the fabric soft and familiar. I barely glanced at my reflection in the locker room mirror as I grabbed my bag, already running through my schedule for the day.
As I walked through the quad, the late afternoon air had a slight chill to it, just enough to make me zip up my hoodie. The warmth of summer was still lingering in the air, but there was something else, too—a hint of autumn creeping in, the kind of change you could feel but not quite see yet. The sun was beginning to dip, casting softer light across the quad, and the grass was still warm from the day’s heat, though the breeze brought a coolness that made it clear fall was just around the corner.
A few students dotted the lawn, some sitting on the benches, others bundled up in hoodies, chatting or studying. A frisbee sailed through the air now and then, the sound of it thwacking into someone’s hands breaking through the otherwise calm hum of the campus.
I wasn’t here to admire the view, though.
I had my head down, moving toward class, when I saw them.
Eli, Asher, and Gigi.
They were sitting on the grass, scattered across a blanket, and from the distance, I could see Eli’s smile. It was wide, easy, the kind of smile that made him look even younger than he was. That smile hit me harder than I expected. Confusion settled in my chest, followed by something else I didn’t want to name. Was that jealousy?
No, that didn’t make sense.
I couldn’t be jealous. Not over him . But seeing him like that—laughing with them, looking... like he belonged—made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t like. Why the hell did it bother me so much?
The wind ruffled Eli’s hair, sending a few loose strands into his eyes. He didn’t seem to mind. When he looked up, his eyes met mine.
A split second. Just long enough for me to catch the flash of something—recognition, maybe expectation. Something I didn’t have time to dissect before I turned away and kept walking.
The smarter move would’ve been to stop. Say something casual. Keep things normal. Instead, I shoved my hands into my hoodie pockets and acted like I hadn’t just spent an entire damn practice trying not to think about him.
“Niall.”
I heard him. Didn’t break stride.
Footsteps behind me. Quick, determined. Then Eli was right beside me, matching my pace like he had a damn agenda. “Seriously?” His voice was half amused, half pissed. “You’re just gonna pretend I don’t exist now?”
I didn’t slow down. “Not pretending anything.”
Eli’s breath was sharp, like he was trying to figure me out. “Right. Because yesterday, we were actually having a conversation, and now you’re back to grunting and scowling at the ground. Totally normal behavior.”
I clenched my jaw, the muscles in my neck tightening. “I’m just walking.”
“You’re avoiding.”
I kept my eyes fixed ahead, ignoring the way my shoulders were starting to feel too tight, too... aware . The air around us felt thicker, like everything was too close.
Eli didn’t let up. “You do realize how weird this is, right? One second, you’re tolerating me—hell, you actually talked to me—and now you’re acting like I ran over your dog.”
I exhaled sharply, trying to push past the frustration building in my chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Eli stopped right in front of me, blocking my path, forcing me to stop short.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” His voice was steady, but the edge was there. “And if this is some hot-and-cold thing, let me save you the trouble. I don’t do that shit.”
I scoffed, shifting uncomfortably. “Hot and cold? You’re reaching.”
“Am I?” His brows lifted, an almost playful challenge in his tone, but his eyes were sharp, too. “Because yesterday, we went on a walk. We talked. It was nice.” He said it like it was a fact, like he wasn’t giving me room to argue. “And now you can’t even look at me?”
I flexed my fingers inside my hoodie pocket, feeling the pressure in my chest, my jaw tight. “It was just a walk. You were there. I was just showing you around.”
Eli’s lips quirked, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “Right. And I bet you take all your roommates on impromptu scenic hikes.”
I didn’t answer.
Eli sighed, exhaling hard, frustration thick in the space between us. “You know what? Forget it.” He turned to walk off, but then he spun around to face me again. “On second thought, Niall, you don’t have to be nice,” Eli said, quieter now, almost too calm. “Just be consistent. We can be friends, or we can be enemies, but we can’t go back and forth between both. I won’t do it.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than it should’ve been. I could’ve said I didn’t owe him anything. That this was nothing. That he was making it bigger than it was.
But none of that would’ve been true.
Eli sighed, shaking his head, and then turned and walked off, leaving me standing there with the sound of his footsteps fading.
I stayed frozen for a second longer than I should’ve, staring at the empty space where he’d been, the words he’d said echoing in my head.
You don’t have to be nice. Just be consistent.
I clenched my fist in my pocket, telling myself he was overreacting. That it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t have to talk to him like we were best friends every time I saw him.
But deep down, I knew he had a point.
And that pissed me off even more.