Chapter 3 #2
One by one, guys step up onto the scale, step down, and shuffle away, while we move up in line.
The tension thickens the longer we’re this close to each other.
Close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off him and smell his soapy bodywash.
Close enough that I’m acutely aware of every slow inhale he takes, like he’s taking up all the oxygen in the room.
Brody’s breathing and his massive shoulders are taking up too much airspace and pushing the rest of us away to make room.
Finally, it’s my turn. I exhale, step on, and wait for the beep.
“One seventy-five point four,” Coach reads off. “Not bad for preseason. Well done, as expected. You can go, Mr. Beckett.”
I step down quickly, because I don’t want to be standing too close when Brody is weighed. I don’t want to be tempted to turn around and look at him. I absolutely do not want to look. I don’t.
But I do anyway, my morbid curiosity getting the better of me.
Brody steps up with a casual roll of his shoulders that sends a ripple down his arms and over his back as he settles his stance. He’s thick and carved in a way that’s almost indecent, all the way down to his cut v-line that points to a far too prominent bulge.
I blink rapidly and direct my eyes up to the number on the scale that flashes 179.2.
My mouth is suddenly dry. That’s not possible. Sure, he’s shorter than me, but with a build like that he should be way heavier.
Coach grunts something approving, muttering something under his breath that I can’t hear. Brody jokes casually with him, like they’re friends or something, and says some stupid shit about being a corn-fed Nebraskan for the past two years.
Cade appears at my elbow like he’s been waiting for the right moment to piss me off. “Oh, well will you look at that? You’re going to be sharing a weight class with your new bestie.”
“Fuck off, Cade.”
“Oh, come on. You have to admit he’s a damn good addition to the team. He’s a goddamn brick shithouse.”
“He’s… fine. I guess.”
Cade snorts. “Fine? Are you pretending not to notice him, too?” He pushes my shoulder playfully. “Or are you just jealous that you didn’t pack on the muscle as well as some of us have?”
“Shut. Up.”
“Whatever you say, Captain. Have fun grappling with that monster.”
If someone could tell me why the fuck my eyes automatically drop to Brody’s crotch, that’d be great. Covering the shake I have to give my head to empty my thoughts, I shove a laughing Cade aside. I’m failing at pretending none of this bothers me.
Brody is looking at me now. Directly at me, like he caught every second of where my eyes, and my thoughts, travelled to.
He drags his eyes down my body, neck, chest, and abs.
He does it slowly enough that I can feel his gaze on me.
My face gets hot. Then he tilts his head, just slightly, like he’s sizing me up for real.
It’s almost like he’s saying, “Yeah, I could take you,” without saying the words out loud.
Something I can’t name but feels like heat settles low in my stomach. I swallow hard and look away.
I briefly entertain the thought of cutting weight to drop to a lower class. But that’s stupid. I’m already in peak condition. I’d lose strength and stamina, not to mention I’d be handing him power he doesn’t deserve.
No. He needs to leave. Go find another team and another person to torment.
Apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks so.
Pierce Jamison must have caught the snarl I can’t wipe off my face, because he suddenly thinks we’re buddies. He catches me near the benches during a break. “Hey. Some of us are thinking we should, you know, show the new guy how things work around here. Make sure he understands his place.”
I don’t respond, but I don’t stop him either, which he takes as encouragement.
“Don’t worry, Captain,” he says with a smirk, smacking my shoulder. “We’ll take care of it.”
My stomach twists. It’s not right, and it’s certainly not befitting of my role. It’s not who I should be.
But the panic of having him here, someone who knows how to beat me, how to ruin me, makes me selfish. Selfish and stupid.
Maybe a little harmless hazing will keep him quiet and away from me, or even better, get him to rethink his place on this team.
Maybe it’s the only option.
The rest of the week passes easily enough, aside from being constantly on edge that I’ll run into Brody Miller at any moment.
The one saving grace is that it seems we don’t share any classes.
Which is definitely for the best. It’s bad enough that my eight a.m. Corporate Finance class is going to destroy me.
The professor’s voice is so monotone, it might as well be a lullaby sung by the Sandman himself.
Every student in the class looks dazed and dead inside by the end of the first hour, myself included, and I don’t need any more struggle to focus.
It's not until Thursday that I see him again, thanks to my efforts to avoid the common areas like the student union and waking up an hour earlier to get my workouts in.
As much as I wish I could, I can’t avoid him any longer. Today is our first unofficial practice. It’s a tradition for the captains to run the first two weeks of practices to show the underclassmen how things go. So it’s on me, Sean, and Roman to show up early and lead drills.
After some basic warmups and explanation of how we do things here, the class pairs off. The underclassmen are paired with an upperclassman in a similar weight class.
Except Brody, since he’s new despite being a Junior. He’s standing off to the side, stretching his legs, humming some awful pop song under his breath.
Sean thumps me on the shoulder. “You take Miller.”
I whip around. “What? Why me?” Despite my attempts to disguise it, my voice is too sharp. Can they see how freaked out I am?
Sean shrugs. “We’ve got enough upperclassmen to cover the newbies, and he’s the only one not paired up.
Besides, you’re in the same weight class,” he says like it’s obvious.
It is obvious, but I was still hoping to avoid pairing up with him, at least until the coaching staff are breathing down our necks.
But it’s not like I can say no. There isn’t anyone else for him to pair off with, and the entire team is watching. Refusing to practice with him is only going to draw attention to the issue and make me look even weaker.
I can feel Brody’s eyes on me even before I turn. He’s completely relaxed and unbothered, like he hasn’t been haunting my nightmares. I force myself to walk over, jaw tight, trying not to show the way my pulse spikes with every step I take towards him.
Brody straightens, his grin slow and warm. “Hey, Captain. Ready to get sweaty together?”
My jaw ticks. “Why would you say it like that?” I grouse, playing off the way the comment sends fire sizzling straight through my gut.
We run through basic warm-ups. Drills I could do in my sleep, if not for every brush of his hand against mine, every accidental bump, every shift of muscle under his skin lighting me up in places that do not belong on these practice mats.
And he knows it. I can tell by the way his eyes flick to mine whenever his skin comes in contact with mine.
Like he’s cataloguing every reaction to the little jolts of electricity that course through me.
Like he can feel the deep and uncomfortable awareness I’ve spent over two years shoving into a locked room inside my chest. It’s all starting to seep out, sensing a familiarity that I’m not all that familiar with.
“Alright,” Roman calls out. “Let’s move on to some light grappling next. Keep it easy.”
We circle each other, and I avoid his eyes, not wanting to see his stupid grin, like getting under my skin is a fun game for him.
“Relax, Lincoln,” he murmurs.
“I told you not to call me that.”
“Fine. Beck then. That’s what everyone else calls you, right?”
“Not you.”
“Aww, come on, Captain. Why not?”
“Because that’s what my friends call me. And you are not my fucking friend.”
His grin crooks up on one side. My pulse stutters. I step in, a touch faster than I mean to, trying to muscle him into a standard tie-up. He flows with it too easily, hands sliding across my shoulders, fingers brushing the back of my neck.
It’s a stupidly intimate touch for a wrestling drill, and I’m not having it.
“Hands up,” I snap. “Pay attention.”
“Oh, I’m paying attention.” His eyes drop slowly, deliberately, to my hips, then lower.
A cold bolt of humiliation slices through me. “Stop that,” I hiss. “Quit looking at me like that!”
His eyebrows lift innocently. “Like what?”
“You know what.”
He chuckles. “You think a lot of yourself, huh?”
He grabs my wrist. His grip is confident and warm. He pivots effortlessly, and for one humiliating second, I stumble. I’m off balance and out of control.
He doesn’t take me down, though. He lets me recover.
And somehow, that’s even worse.
We move again. My heart is pounding too loudly. The gym lights are hot and glaring.
Brody shoots for my leg, not even at full speed, and my body reacts in the wrong way. I overcorrect, shielding my sensitive groin, and he uses the opening to pull me into a loose clinch, bodies pressed chest-to-chest.
His breath brushes my ear. “You alright there, Captain?”
White-hot fury rushes through me. At his audacity. But mostly at myself for being so damn weak.
I shove him hard, using too much force for the light drill. He stumbles, but catches himself easily, looking more amused than offended.
“Damn,” he murmurs, voice low. “Didn’t know you liked it that rough.”
My face flushes hotter than a nuclear explosion. I lunge before I can think better of it. This time I get hold of him and with a twist of my hips, I slam him onto his back harder than I meant to. The thud of his body hitting the mat echoes.
Pinning him with my body heavy across his, my knee against his thigh, forearm braced beside his head, I listen as his breath leaves him in a harsh grunt. Then he looks up at me.
And smiles.
A sly, salacious smile turns up one side of his lips. It’s cruel and knowing. Like he’s seeing something I didn’t mean to expose.
My voice is low and rough, trembling in a way I hope shows my rage but not my fear.
“I’m in charge here, Miller. I’m top dog. And I’ll damn well find a way to get you kicked off this team and sent back to whatever shithole you came from if you try to screw with me. Do you understand me?”
For the first time all practice, Brody stops smiling. Not because he’s upset, I don’t think. He looks… interested. Possibly amused, but there’s an undercurrent of fierce determination that makes my mouth go dry. I lick my lips, and his gaze flicks to my mouth.
My body goes hot. Then cold. Then hot again.
Brody hums thoughtfully. “I hear you,” he says softly. His hips shift under mine, just enough to remind me how he’s built. How close we are. How stupid my body is. “Loud and clear.”
Awareness blasts through me, rising so fast I feel dizzy, and I stumble back like I’ve been burned. My heart is a wild, frantic thing inside my chest.
I need this to stop.
I need him gone.
Whatever it takes, I need my life back.
Because if he stays, and if he keeps looking at me like he can see through me, I don’t know what’s going to happen.
I just know it won’t be something I can control.