Chapter 47
FORTY-SEVEN
CALLUM
“ H ey man, you alright? You were totally off your game today.”
Jerking my head to the side, I see him leaning against the doorframe.
The other guys have long since cleared out, and I’m sure Coach Farley has even left by this point, but I’m dragging today.
Ever since mom’s call this morning, I feel like I’ve been crashing out.
Aside from the meadow, the ice has always been my refuge, the one place where I can leave all the bullshit on the sidelines and just get lost in the moment.
But even that let me down today. And it’s all her fault.
Why did she have to tell me now, right before the playoffs, that she’s getting remarried?
She always tries to pull this bullshit, tries to make everything about her.
Dammit, why couldn’t she have just waited, or better yet, just not said anything at all?
It’s not like she fucking cares about me or my opinion.
If she did, she never would have left and taken Lena with her in the first place.
“Cal, talk to me man. What’s going on with you? ”
Swallowing hard, I shake my head, blinking back the burning that has suddenly made it difficult to see.
“Alright.” He sits next to me on the bench, nodding slowly. “No talking then. Got it.”
I’m not sure how long we sit there, neither of us saying anything. After a while the silence is so loud it’s almost deafening in this empty locker room. Blowing out a shaky breath, I glance over at him. Maybe he fell asleep out of boredom. Why else would he still be hanging around?
Our relationship isn’t as antagonistic as it had been growing up.
We’ve gotten to know each other better over the years of playing for the same team.
Surprisingly enough, he’s actually not half bad, aside from the fact that he still has such shitty taste in friends.
But then, I guess, he’s the type of guy who doesn’t give a fuck about what other people think.
I wish I was like that. I wish I could care less. It would certainly be easier.
His eyes connect with mine, and the hair on the back of my neck prickles.
How long has he just been sitting there watching me, not saying anything?
His leg brushes against mine as he shifts, trying to readjust on the unforgiving bench.
I shift my legs, attempting to give him some more room.
I’m sure his ass is probably numb by now after sitting here for so long, waiting for me to just say something .
“You don’t have to stay, just to wait for me. I’m leaving here soon, too.”
“Alright.” He says again, nodding once in acknowledgement.
That’s it? Just ‘alright’?
He shifts again, and I think he’s finally going to give up and leave, but instead he turns slightly, readjusting to better face me.
His leg bumps into my own once more, and this time neither one of us moves to readjust. Suddenly, I’m hyperaware of the fact that we are alone right now.
His toned muscles radiate a warmth that makes my neck flush.
“I -”
“I - ”
We both speak and he stops abruptly, swallowing hard. My gaze drifts down to his Adam’s apple, and I can see his pulse is thrumming almost as fast as my own heartbeat.
“You first.”
His brows furrow as he takes me in, as if he’s carefully thinking about what to say. With hesitant movements, he reaches out, slowly – as if waiting for my objection – and places a hand on my thigh. I jerk, surprised by the touch.
“Shit – sorry. I -”
“No, I -”
He goes to pull away and without thinking, I reach out, stopping him.
My pulse is rushing, I can hear the beat of my heart pounding in my burning ears as my hand slowly flexes on top of his own, taking in the way his rough hand feels.
It’s a foreign sensation, his hand is so much larger and more calloused than all of the girls that I’ve hooked up with in the past. It’s unexpected, but it feels. . . nice .
My breath hitches as I rip my gaze from where our hands meet to see what his reaction is.
He’s not looking at our hands though; he’s watching me.
Fingers flex, squeezing my thigh with careful deliberation, and I watch in fascination as his gaze travels over me until he’s staring .
. . at my mouth. Swallowing hard, his tongue darts out, licking at his lower lip and shit, now I’m staring at his mouth.
“Cal -”
“B -”
We speak simultaneously, both of our voices sounding rough, as if we’re both dehydrated after a rough game on the ice.
I stop. His gaze flickers down again and he carefully leans in, slowly, as if giving me time to pull away.
My dick twitches as I watch him lean closer, and I shift, trying to subtly readjust my growing hard-on.
But I’m leaning in towards him, too. Shit.
Is this really happening right now? You have a girlfriend, asshole.
His face is so close to mine that I can feel the warmth of his breath hit my face.
My own breaths are shallow as my heart leaps in my chest, and I close my eyes before nerves get the better of me, leaning forward a fraction of an inch.
His lips brush against mine, surprisingly soft as his stubble scratches my chin.
I freeze, breath hitching in my chest, and he jerks back, eyes wide with panic.
“Shit! I- fuck! I’m sorry, none of that should have happened. Forget it ever happened, man. My bad. I -” He stammers, voice shaking as he moves to stand up.
Without thinking, I reach out, grabbing him by the neck and yanking his head back down to mine, slamming my mouth against his. His breath rushes out in a whoosh and he groans, mouth opening as I slide my tongue along his seam.
This is wrong. So fucking wrong. God, he feels so good.
My dick is throbbing as I dig my fingers into the short hair at the base of his neck, holding him tightly, afraid of what might happen if I let go and break this spell.
His hand is back on my thigh, sliding up in a casual exploration as the other one reaches out to rest on my chest. God, why does this feel so fucking good?
He’s your teammate, asshole. You definitely shouldn’t be doing this right now.
What if someone sees? Fuck it, who cares?
Another moan, this time escaping my own chest as our tongues collide in a heated battle for control. It’s messy and domineering, and everything that kissing Sarah isn’t. It’s delicious and wicked, and -
“Baby, what’s taking you so long? Practice ended ages ago and you said you were going to meet me out - ohmygod what the actual fuck? Callum!”
Fuck!
Jerking apart, our chests are both heaving as if we were running a marathon.
“Sarah! Shit. This isn’t what it looks like, I swear! It -” My gaze trails past Sarah’s shoulder as he rushes out of the room without saying a word. Fuck! What the fuck did I just do? “It’s nothing. Sarah, baby.”
“Don’t ‘baby’ me, you cheating, good-for-nothing douchebag!”
She screeches, her shrill voice echoing throughout the tiled walls. Turning on her heel, she teeters precariously before righting herself and storming out of the room. Dammit . Jumping up, to chase after her down the hall, she sobs loudly, earning concerned glances from everyone she passes by.
“She’s fine. No worries. Just found out her cat died.”
I wince at my own lie as I rush after her.
Her fucking cat died? Really? With my luck, she’ll tell the whole damn school what she saw, and that will be it.
End of career for me. None of the guys will want to come anywhere near me in the locker room if they find out I kissed a teammate. What the fuck was I thinking?
Stomping across the parking lot, she makes it over to my truck, shrieking in frustration as she yanks on the handle to no avail.
Tossing her long hair, she glares at me over her shoulder.
“Well, are you going to unlock it or what?” Tears streak down her face, mascara making her look like a deranged doll as she stomps her heeled foot in obvious frustration.
Rushing over the last few steps, I hastily reach into my pocket and hit the fob to unlock my truck before leaning around her to yank open the door.
She hops up into the cab, resuming her hysterical sobbing now that she has been properly seated, and I sigh in frustration, running a shaking hand through my hair as I rush around to the drivers side and jump in.
The engine turns over with a loud rumble, and I throw the truck into drive, peeling out of the lot and hoping that no one else saw the shitshow that I just put on for the world to see.
“How – could – you – do – this – to – us?” She hiccups, voice trembling as she wails. “You – you humiliated me! You’re supposed to l-l-love m-me!”
Fuck, fuck, fuck! I can’t believe I did that. What did I do ?
Belatedly, I realize that I haven’t even been paying attention to her tirade as she continues to put on a show.
This isn’t the first time we’ve had a bad fight, though usually it’s the result of her being caught making out with another asshole at some party.
This is definitely a first for me. Nausea settles like a stone in my gut, the reality of what happened finally starting to sink in.
No matter how many issues we’ve had in the past, she didn’t deserve this.
I really fucked up. I can’t take her home.
Not like this. I need to talk to her. Need to get her to listen.
I have to find a way to make this right. Maybe she’ll understand. Maybe -
“Are you even listening to me?”
I quickly throw a glance in her direction. She’s a mess, mascara streaming down her face, and her normally perfectly styled hair askew.