Chapter 1 #2
I’m closing the gap, my body burning, but something’s changed.
I can’t keep my eyes off him. He’s so damn calculated.
Leander’s grace would make Tim Horton weep.
He’s not breaking a sweat like I am. It seems second nature to him.
Like he’s always been this good, this calm, this.
.. perfect. I don’t know if I admire it or want to rip it apart.
But there’s something in his eyes now. It’s the faintest crack in his mask, and it makes the competition that much sweeter.
I dive forward, trying to steal the puck one last time. I barely manage to hook my stick around it before he snaps it away, redirecting toward the net with a sharp, fluid move that takes me by surprise. He’s got the shot lined up perfectly, and before I can react, he’s already taken it.
The puck hits the back of the net with a soft ping, and for a moment, the whole rink feels like it’s holding its breath. Then, the guys start shouting, some in disbelief, others laughing at how clean it was.
Leander skates back to me, his expression unreadable. He stops just in front of me, and for a split second, I think maybe he will say something to gloat about his win, but he tilts his head slightly, his eyes flicking down to my stick.
“Good move,” he says, like it’s just another day at the office. But there’s something there. A challenge buried beneath his calm exterior.
He has to know exactly what he’s doing. It’s driving me crazy.
I’m breathing heavier than I should be, heart hammering in my chest. And as I stand there, staring him down, I know one thing for sure:
Leander Cameron’s going to be the hardest fucking challenge of my career. And I can’t wait to break him.
The locker room smells like sweat, leather, and desperation. It’s a stench I’ve grown to love. It’s the scent of warriors after battle, of bodies pushed beyond their limits. And as much as I should be winding down, my mind’s still on that damn one-on-one with Leander.
The rush is fading, but the thrill hasn’t worn off.
My adrenaline’s like a drug, and I need a fix of something to keep the high going.
I can’t stop thinking about how his eyes locked on me when he stole that puck, how calm he was when I thought I had him cornered.
He wanted me to push him harder, but I just can’t prove it.
I pull off my skates, tossing them into my locker with a little more force than necessary, the scrape of the blades on metal ringing in my ears.
The guys are scattered around, loud as usual.
Jax is laughing with another teammate about something.
I can’t focus enough to put the joke together because all of my focus is on Leander.
He’s not one to make a scene, not one to throw his weight around or draw attention to himself. He’s in his own little world, and it’s pissing me off. I can’t stand it. But at the same time, I can’t help but want to crack it open and peer at what’s underneath his exterior.
I catch a glimpse of him in the corner, peeling off his gear with that same methodical precision that’s both frustrating and fascinating. His skin is tan even from all the hours locked in a sunless rink. Leander pulls his shirt over his head, revealing toned muscle and smooth skin.
I take a step toward him, just slow enough to make it look casual, but I know exactly what I’m doing. The guys are starting to file out for showers, but I’m not in a rush. I’m not in a rush because I want Leander to feel my presence as I close in on him.
“Cameron,” I say, my voice low, like I’m about to tell him a secret. But really, it’s just a way to test him. I want to see how he reacts to me being close and how much space he will give up before he rushes to the showers.
He glances up at me, his eyes flashing briefly with something that looks like surprise, but it’s gone before I can name it. Then I see the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. He’s got this quiet confidence, but I can tell he’s measuring me. And I love it.
“Yeah?” He leans against his locker, arms crossed, his body language still tight and controlled. It’s a challenge, but a subtle one. He’s trying to hold the line, but I can feel the tension in the air.
I take another step closer.
“Didn’t think you had it in you,” I say, voice dripping with mock admiration. “You moved pretty well out there. Maybe I underestimated you.”
The words are half teasing, half testing. I don’t give compliments unless they come with a bite, and I’m waiting for him to either smile it off or get defensive. But Leander’s not like the others. He’s not intimidated, and that’s what’s bugging me.
“I didn’t come here to impress you,” he replies, voice steady but with that little edge to it that says he’s not completely comfortable with my presence. And it’s that discomfort that makes the whole thing so much more exciting.
I can’t help the grin that tugs at my lips. “Nah, I think you came here to get under my skin. And it’s working.”
He raises an eyebrow, the smallest flicker of amusement in his eyes. “If I wanted to get under your skin, I would have gotten that goal before you could even blink. I didn’t want to embarrass you.”
I laugh, but it’s low, a little dark. He’s got a point, and something about the way he says it makes my stomach tighten. He’s not backing down. He’s not folding. And that’s what makes him so goddamn interesting.
I step in a little closer, just enough to close the gap between us, but not enough to touch.
“You think you’re a challenge, huh?” I ask, the words carrying more weight than I intend.
Leander doesn’t back away. He doesn’t flinch. He just looks at me like I’m an equation he’s still trying to solve, a puzzle he’s not quite sure how to piece together. “I’m not the one with something to prove, Locke.”
It’s a challenge wrapped in a quiet confidence. It makes my pulse spike. I’m not used to this, not used to someone who doesn’t cower in my presence or try to match me shot for shot. He’s not playing by the rules, and that’s fucking dangerous.
I lean in, just a little too close for comfort, and I see his jaw tighten. I know I’ve pushed him just enough. “You’re a hard guy to figure out, you know that?” I murmur, my voice low, almost like a whisper meant for only him to hear.
“I’m not the one trying to read between lines that aren’t there,” he shoots back, but there’s something behind his words now. A tension. A spark. He’s not as calm as he’s pretending to be.
I take a breath and back off, just enough to give him space to breathe, but not enough for him to feel like he’s won. “You sure about that? You look like you’re just one push away from losing it.”
Leander meets my eyes then, no hesitation, no uncertainty. He’s not intimidated, and that pisses me off. “Maybe it’s you who’s about to lose it, Phoenix.”
My name on his mouth shoots a chill down my spine. I’m grinning now, a wide, dangerous smile. Maybe I have lost it.
The back-and-forth is electric, but it’s more than that.
This—whatever this is—feels like a battle for control.
He’s trying to keep his composure, trying to stay detached, but I can see it.
The way his hands clench into fists. The way his eyes narrow ever so slightly.
Leander Cameron isn’t as controlled as he wants me to think he is.
And I need to know exactly how to push him.
But I want more. I want to make him crack. I want to pull him apart until there’s nothing left but the real him. The one behind the calm. The one who’ll finally give in.
“You’re not what I expected,” I say, letting the words linger, adding weight to them like I’m reading his soul. “Thought the quiet ones were always easy to break, but I’m not sure anymore.”
Leander shakes his head, blowing out an annoyed sigh. He’s more than just a challenge now. He’s a magnet, pulling me in.
I lean in a little closer, not quite touching, but close enough that he can feel the heat from my body. “You’ve got a lot of fight in you for someone who wants to stay invisible.”
“I’m not invisible,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. “I just don’t feel the need to prove myself to anyone. Especially you.”
Something in that statement hits me harder than it should. It’s almost like he’s calling me out for hiding behind some mask of arrogance and control. He doesn’t care about proving anything. Why? Why won’t he bite? Take the bait. Lower himself to my level.
“Yeah, well, you’ve got me interested now,” I say, leaning in just a bit more. “And that’s not something I give away easily.”
He holds my gaze, that quiet intensity in his eyes making my stomach flip. “You’ve always got to be in control, don’t you?”
I can’t help but grin at that. “Breaking them down. What else is there?”
There’s a long pause, and for a moment, it feels like the whole world is holding its breath.
It’s only us now, just the two of us in this locker room. The sound of distant showers and muffled conversations fades into the background.
And then Leander speaks again, this time softer: “I don’t need to be broken, Locke. If anything, you need to be put back together again,”
For a long beat, I don’t move. His words echo inside me, rattling the walls I’ve built around myself. Put back together again. Like I’m some shattered mess bleeding across the ice. He’s not wrong, but I’ll never admit it. Not to him. Not to anyone.
I force a low and sharp laugh, but it doesn’t carry the bite I want. “You don’t know me well enough to say shit like that, Cameron.”
He shrugs, like it’s no skin off his back, like my protest is just another part of the game.
That indifference grates against me worse than any insult could. Because what kind of guy looks me dead in the eye and doesn’t flinch, doesn’t fold, doesn’t even blink?
I step closer, too close, enough that I can see the faint sheen of sweat still clinging to his neck. My chest brushes his when I lean in. “You think you’re some kind of savior? That you’re gonna come in here and fix me? You’ve got another thing coming.”
Leander doesn’t move. Doesn’t step back. His eyes lock onto mine, unwavering. “I don’t think you need saving, Phoenix. I think you’re terrified someone might actually see you.”
That stings. More than I want it to. I should shove him. I should crack him across the jaw and end this little staring contest, reclaim control the way I always do—with brute force and speed. But my fists stay clenched at my sides, shaking with restraint.
Because the truth is, I do want him to see me. And that pisses me off more than anything.
The smell of sweat and leather clings heavy in the air, grounding me even as I feel like I’m unraveling.
I swallow, trying to find something sharp to say, but the words tangle in my throat. He tilts his head again, studying me, like he’s dissecting every crack in my armor. Like he knows exactly where I’ll break if he presses hard enough.
“You’re walking a thin line,” I mutter finally, my voice low, dangerous. “Push me the wrong way and you’ll regret it.”
Instead of backing down, he smirks. Not wide, not cocky—just a flicker of amusement at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think I will.”
His audacity makes my blood rush hot. Nobody talks to me like that. Nobody stands their ground when I press this hard. He’s supposed to fold. He’s supposed to shatter so I can walk away with the upper hand.
“You’re playing with fire,” I push my fist against his shoulder, making him stumble into the lockers.
Leander doesn’t blink. If anything, he smiles at me. His ease is infuriating, suffocating—and intoxicating. “Maybe fire’s the only way to temper steel.”
The words hang heavy between us, sparking against the raw tension that thrums in the room. My chest rises and falls too fast, my pulse hammering like I just skated ten laps without stopping.
“I’m gonna shower.” He shoulders me off of him and leaves me.
And for the first time since I stepped onto this team, I realize something: I’m not in control anymore.
And I’m fucking addicted to it.