Chapter 11 - Karter
Memorizing my roommate’s library schedule had officially become the most important part of my week.
Sitting on my bed in the attic of the Ice House, I shivered as the draft of the old building cut right through my sweater. Matt wouldn’t be back from the library until ten, so I waited in the dead quiet for a knock on the door that probably wasn’t coming.
My color-coded notes and neatly stacked textbooks sat exactly where I’d left them on my desk. And while the pristine setup used to help ground me, now it just felt like another empty expectation I maintained because I was supposed to.
If my dad told me my game wasn’t aggressive enough, I just nodded. If my mom got stressed the second a conversation got too real, I shut my mouth and smiled. And when Elliot gave me another pep talk I didn’t ask for, I just said, ‘Yeah, man, you’re right’.
That was the Johnston brand: wear the expensive gear, don’t cause drama, and never give a shit loud enough for anyone to hear.
But keeping up that act was draining the life out of me.
Four nights ago in the back of the team van, Aleksey pinned me down and said, “He touched you,” like it was the only explanation that mattered, then spent the entire drive back to the hotel staring out the passenger window in silence.
The next night, after the bus dropped us back at Ridge Cross, I waited outside his room in the Ice House. He dragged me inside just long enough to show me his empty walls and single duffel bag, then shoved me into the hallway and slammed the door.
Still, he had come to my room twice since then.
The first time, we actually just studied, sitting on the floor surrounded by textbooks without him touching me once. The second time, he pinned me against the door the exact second Matt left for the night, unzipped his jeans, and fucked my mouth.
It had been my first time sucking a dick, and though I’d expected him to be rough, the surprising gentleness of his hand guiding the back of my neck threw me off enough that I just surrendered to it.
The whiplash should have made me furious. Instead, I just stared at my door each night, staring at the grain of the wood, wondering which version of Aleksey would show up next. The one who needed help with his science notes, or the one who needed me to get him off.
Hiding this from Elliot and the rest of the guys was a massive risk, the kind of stupid move that could blow up my entire life.
It was also the only thing I wanted, and I’d stopped trying to fight it.
The problem was that since shoving me out of his room days ago, Aleksey hadn’t been willing to really sit down and talk about what we were doing.
I’d tried to bring it up during that first study session, but he shut me down fast. All he wanted from me, it seemed, was a quick release.
Still, for now, as confusing as it was, I was happy to just let it happen. I knew if I pushed him to really process things, he’d throw his walls right back up and walk away for good.
Even with Aleksey nowhere near my room, my heart hammered just thinking about his warm grip and dark eyes.
I traced the chipped edge of my desk. My back still ached from where Aleksey had shoved me against the door two nights ago, and the memory alone sent a hot flush to my gut.
The crazy part was that I didn’t want him to be gentle.
When he was rough with me, I didn’t have to think.
I didn’t have to pretend or hold up that perfect Johnston image.
Aleksey would just take over, and for once, my brain went quiet.
But sitting around stressing over it was driving me insane.
“I can’t just sit here waiting for him to drop by,” I muttered aloud to myself, my voice breaking the dead silence of the attic.
I remembered a text Elliot had sent earlier about a party at the legacy frat. I’d been dodging my brother for the last few days, a nagging sense of guilt creeping up on me, so I figured I should make an appearance to keep him off my back.
But honestly? I just needed to get the hell out of this room. Anything was better than being stuck inside my own head.
So I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door.
The cold night air bit at my face during the short walk, and heavy bass vibrated through the concrete sidewalk before I even reached the front steps. I pushed open the front door, and a deafening wall of noise and heat hit me instantly.
It took me ten minutes just to weave my way through the crowded living room. A mass of legacy hockey players jammed the space, shouting over the music around coffee tables littered with red plastic cups.
I eventually made it to the kitchen, grabbed a beer I didn’t want, and anchored myself against the edge of the island.
I looked like I belonged among these guys, yet standing there, I felt entirely removed from it.
I’d been zoning out for maybe twenty minutes, watching my own life from the sidelines, when a hand clapped my shoulder.
“Look who survived the attic!” Elliot shouted over the music, pulling me into a quick half-hug.
“Hey,” I said, putting on a smile.
“I was starting to think you’d transferred,” Elliot said, stepping back and looking me over. “You’ve been completely MIA the last few days. So, finally decided to put the textbooks down and grace us with your presence? First frat party of the year, K. It’s about damn time.”
“Yeah, well. Figured I needed a break from studying.”
“Good. I know you’ve been grinding hard for your pre-med classes, but you’ve gotta live a little.” His eyes dropped to my full cup, then back up to my face. “Though you look bored out of your mind. Go mingle and stop holding up the counter.”
“I will,” I said, taking a step toward the hallway. “I’m just going to go get some air first. It’s boiling in here.”
“Don’t wander off too far,” he warned. “Trenton said some of the scholarship guys might be snooping around outside trying to crash, so come tell me if you see them.”
“I will.”
He grinned and disappeared back into the loud crowd, clearly convinced I was just being my normal self. But my brother had no idea that my quiet mood stemmed from an obsession with a specific scholarship guy he actively despised.
I pushed through the sturdy mudroom door, the hinges groaning against the loud thumping bass from the living room. The draft leaking under the exterior exit bit right through my thin shirt. I took one step onto the gritty linoleum and walked face-first into a solid chest.
I stumbled back, my shoes squeaking on the floor.
Aleksey.
The dim yellow bulb above the service door caught the jagged white scar on his jaw.
My heart kicked up a notch. He was standing completely still, wearing a dark winter coat, looking as though he had just slipped in from the outside.
He was trespassing, and he definitely wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near this frat house.
“You can’t be in here,” I muttered, my voice barely audible over the rattling walls. “If Elliot catches you...”
“A few of the Ice House freshmen wanted to see how the other half lives,” Aleksey said, his tone flat. “So, I figured I’d make sure they don’t do anything stupid and piss off your McRichy-Rich friends.”
“Elliot already knows guys are sneaking around out back. He is literally looking for an excuse to call security.” I glanced nervously down the hallway behind me. “If you’re just making sure your guys are okay, why are you waiting inside the door?”
Aleksey took a step forward, forcing me to back up until my shoulder blades hit the plaster wall. “You think I’m waiting for you?”
My palms pressed flat against the cold wall behind me. “I think you hate everything about this house,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “I think you hate everyone in it. But you are still standing right here.”
“Fuck off,” he snapped.
Loud voices echoed down the hall.
“Check the back door,” Trenton yelled from the kitchen. “I swear I saw someone out there.”
Aleksey tensed, grabbing the front of my jacket to shove me backward into the tiny nearby coat closet to hide us. We tripped over a pile of boots in the pitch-black space as a large parka slid off a hanger and landed awkwardly on my head.
Thick, muscular forearms pinned me against the racks, a sharp ache flaring in my still-bruised ribs as Aleksey half-clamped his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet.
“So, did you see any of your guys sneaking around out there?” I whispered against his palm. “Or was that just a convenient excuse?”
“Still talking,” he muttered, his breath hot against my temple. “That’s your problem.”
“And yours is standing in a coat closet at a frat house you hate.”
His hand pressed down harder, cutting off whatever smart remark I had lined up next.
“You’re breathing too loud,” he muttered against my ear.
I nodded against his palm, trying to steady my breathing. The voices from the hallway were getting closer, Trenton’s loud bark mixing with the others. Aleksey pressed in tighter, pinning me flush against the back of the closet.
For a few long moments, neither of us moved. I looked up, locking eyes with him in the tight space.
He stared right back.
The tension hanging between us felt thick and suffocating. My heart hammered, but as we stood frozen together, I noticed a slow, undeniable shift lower down. Pressed against my hip, I felt his cock right through the fabric of his pants.
Aleksey knew precisely when I felt it. His jaw clenched. Instead of backing off, he shifted his weight forward and wedged his thick thigh between my legs. He ground his hips against mine in a messy, hard rhythm that made my breath hitch against his palm.
“Stay quiet,” he whispered, but his free hand slid down to grip my waist, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away. His leg pressed firm against my inner thigh, propping my legs open as I rocked myself against the solid muscle there.
My dick was growing hard, aching from the pressure and the risk. “Aleksey,” I whispered when his hand shifted just enough to let me speak.