3. Caden #2
But now, it was only the two of us. And anxiety zinged in me before I could shut it out. Beckett wasn’t turning away. Instead, he crossed his sculpted arms over his broad chest and cocked his head, examining me. It was like he was waiting for something more. Something I wasn’t going to give.
When I glanced at him one more time, there were conflicting emotions on his face.
Doubts in his eyes were at war with the angry pursing of his lips.
It was like he was weighing what to say next.
Soon, he reached a decision, and it was as predictable as anything.
“Coach Murray gave me this responsibility because he believes in me. And you’d be smart to trust him if you can’t trust me.
This game you’re playing is only gonna hurt you. ”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with the fact you’re a Partridge.”
“Don’t be a fucking child,” he snapped, angrier than I’d anticipated. I was doing something right. Beckett stepped toward me with the speed that made his uncle famous on the ice. Blood and nepotism. It was the same old story. “I earned this fair and square.”
I spun back in time to face him, his body inches away from mine. We caught each other’s gaze and entered a staring match for a moment, then I spat out, “Prove it.”
“I’ve got nothing to prove to the likes of you, Jones.” He ground the words through his teeth, eyes flashing with hatred.
“You have no idea what I’m like,” I replied a little more calmly. “How could you?” I asked with a shrug. “It’s a wonder you see anything past your entitlement.”
Beckett closed the gap between us, bumping into me hard enough to make this a physical confrontation.
But he underestimated me, which surprised no one.
I moved my hands forward and grabbed his wrists before he could do anything.
I held him tightly, his chest slamming into mine.
His arms tensed, but he failed to lift his fists if that had been his aim.
“Stop fucking talking about my entitlement. You don’t fucking know me. You’ve no idea where I come from.”
I glared back at him. He was immobilized for the moment, and I basked in seeing him powerless. “Make me.”
Beckett jerked, one arm breaking free of my grip and then shooting to my throat.
He grabbed me before I could pull away, his fingers sinking into my flesh.
He was firm enough to hold me still, though he wasn’t choking me to death just yet.
I managed to grab his wrist again. Pulling back with all my strength, I met the wall with my back and found myself trapped between it and a raging lunatic.
“Don’t ever fucking talk about my family,” Beckett snapped. “And don’t make me have to remind you.”
I released both of his wrists, then pressed my open palms against the bunching muscles of his torso and shoved him back. He released me and towered like a monolith two paces away from me. I rubbed my throat. “Great fucking leadership, asshole.”
He seethed with anger, chest expanding and falling. I could see a vein pulsing in his neck.
When I stepped forward, he moved back to let me pass, watching me with all the hatred I felt for him. Not giving a single fuck, I slipped the knot loose and threw my towel at the bench, then picked up my underwear.
Before I did anything else, I turned to face him again. The murderous expression melted into surprise and Beckett hurried away from me. “Real fucking nice,” he muttered.
I bent down and stepped into my boxer-briefs, dragged them up my smooth legs, and tucked my dick and balls comfortably inside. “You’re the creep waiting for me in the locker room.”
“Go fuck yourself,” he snapped and marched to his corner. He lifted a T-shirt and put it on just as I dressed. The awkward part was that we were ready to leave at the same time.
When I met his glare, I found conflict again. He watched me like he was on the verge of saying something, but his lips were sealed tightly, and he was silent.
I bit the bullet, tossed my duffel over my shoulder, and then walked out.
Beckett was on my heels, but I hurried to reach each door before we bumped into one another.
My throat didn’t hurt the way I would have expected.
All he’d done was assert dominance, but that was enough to bruise my ego twice over.
When we were outside, the last of the day’s heat washed over me.
I randomly picked my direction, deciding not to have a long, silent race against Beckett between the rink and the team house.
My legs carried me to the Thirsty Thinker, far from Beckett.
He’d been haunting the house, sulking at the guys who were still going out and acting like they had in the past. His idea, I believed, was that his captaincy was going to miraculously make everyone twice as committed and ten times as talented.
Tough fucking luck. If anything, his captaincy just made everyone want to get out of the house.
The tavern was still quiet, although it was merely the calm before the storm. Saturday nights were raving mad here, but I doubted I would linger long enough to experience it. I found a small table in the corner and ordered a light beer out of habit.
After scanning the bar once for any possible eye contact, I resorted to my phone.
I scrolled the faceless, nameless profiles of the guys in my area, seeing the same six packs I’d seen before or emoji stickers covering people’s heads.
My profile shamelessly bore my shower selfie, revealing my face and torso and hinting at more to see where the image was cut off at the bottom.
My dark hair was wet in the photo, and my green eyes caught the ceiling light, reflecting it with a twinkle.
I had an inbox full of photo attachments from strangers I had never spoken to.
I didn’t dare open them, especially not in public.
I’d made that mistake once, a year ago, and I was never going to make it again.
At times, it felt like I had been a totally different person a year ago.
Riley had been there to confront Beckett whenever that asshole made a comment in my direction.
I had just come out to my parents and Riley had lowkey encouraged me to go out and have fun.
These days, it wasn’t so much fun. The initial anxiety and expectations gave way to habit.
I scrolled until my eye caught a handsome torso I hadn’t seen before.
I clicked it, then left a little fire stamp on his profile.
I read the description, which stated his interests, and sighed with relief when it said he wasn’t looking for anything romantic.
I got a ‘hey’ in my inbox a minute later.
The guy was a mile away and a couple of years older, so I figured he wasn’t a campus resident.
I texted him back, and we exchanged photos of our faces, a few compliments, and another round of slightly more risky pics.
He was a cute blond with a long face and bright blue eyes.
And, sadly, he did nothing to my curiosity.
It wasn’t his fault. In the last two weeks, I had dialed up my after-hours activities to the point where everything bored me.
When our chatting slowed down and we reached the point of deciding whether to meet up, I let him off the hook and hoped he found what he was looking for. I sat in the corner while the tavern filled with a few smaller groups of people, then quietly stalked away.
On my way back to the house, restlessness filled my stomach.
The original shock had worn off long ago, but the disappointment remained. It bugged me in all sorts of wrong ways. I hadn’t deserved to be pushed aside like that. But it bothered me just as much that my instinct was to walk away.
I pushed these thoughts aside and focused on the problems at hand.
The biggest of them all was Beckett Partridge.
Captain or not, his hatred had reached a new level.
And mine was matching his pace perfectly.
Things could only get worse the more I was around him.
And I was forced to be around him all the goddamn time.
Even now, returning to the house, annoyance mixed with antagonism. He was so embedded in my thoughts that I had a constant shield against him. I was perpetually sharp and ready to strike, too.
It was tiring. It was everywhere. It was something I didn’t know how to handle on my own.
And worst of all, I had no one to talk to.
Riley was too busy setting the foundations for the rest of his life with Cameron and Sawyer was too neutral to give me more than a mediator’s response.
My family didn’t know just how bad things had gotten around here.
And I doubted that my love for hockey would survive the accruing injustices.
I had rushed with exploring the dating scene around Northwood that I found myself bored and uninterested.
All I wanted to do was shout and fight. And I wanted to see Beckett’s surprised expression when it was my hand around his throat.