Chapter 5: Locker Room Tension

I stepped back into the hallway, the heavy door banging shut behind me like it was trying to trap all the bullshit of the day inside. Clara’s cherry lipstick still felt sticky on my cheek no matter how many times I wiped it off. My jaw was tight, shoulders bunched up like I’d been carrying bricks around all afternoon.

 The final bell ripped through the speakers overhead, sharp and annoying as hell. Hockey practice. Good. I needed to smash into something or someone and bleed off this frustration before I lost my mind.

I headed across campus to the arena, the big ugly concrete building that smelled like home—cold ice, sweat, and rubber mats. The Rage Ravens.

I’d been captain since junior year, earned every scar and every late-night drill session that came with it. Pushing through the locker room doors, the familiar chaos hit me full force: guys shouting, lockers slamming, steam rolling out from the showers in the back. The air was thick, humid, and ripe with the stink of twenty dudes who’d just come from classes.

I yanked my locker open and started stripping down, tossing my shirt aside. Most of the team was already naked or damn almost naked, towels barely hanging on, dicks swinging freely while they joked and slapped each other on the back. Normally I didn’t give a shit, but today everything grated on my nerves.

“Can you guys please cover yourselves?” I muttered, pulling on my practice shorts and jersey. “It’s a locker room, not a fucking nudist colony.”

A couple of the guys chuckled, but Jordan,big, loudmouth dumbass who always thought he was funnier than he was turned around with a towel slung over his shoulder and nothing else. His cock hung there, heavy and shameless. “Why, Captain? You’ve never seen a penis before or something?”

The whole room exploded in laughter. Deep belly laughs, guys leaning on lockers, one dude nearly dropping his stick. The sound bounced off the tiled walls and drilled straight into my skull. My blood was already hot from earlier, and this bullshit lit the fuse.

I stood up fast, chest bumping straight into his. “Say that shit again.”

Jordan didn’t flinch. He stepped closer, still buck naked, water from the shower still dripping down his chest. “If I do, what’s gonna happen, huh? You gonna cry about it, Leo?”

That was all it took. I swung hard, fist cracking against his jaw with a solid thud. Jordan staggered back into a locker, the metal rattling loud. Pain shot through my knuckles, but it felt satisfying as hell.

“You will not disrespect me in front of the others, you hear me?” I yelled, voice echoing through the room. My chest was heaving, fists still clenched. “I’ve had enough of your mouth today.”

Jordan straightened up, rubbing his jaw, eyes blazing. He stepped right back into my face, naked as the day he was born. “What the fuck are you gonna do about it, Captain?”

Before fists could fly again, Marcus shoved between us, his big hands planting hard on both our chests. “Hey, hey, hey! That’s enough, y’all. Cool the fuck down. We’ve got ice time in ten minutes, not a damn boxing match in here.”

I glared past Marcus, staring daggers at Jordan. The rest of the team had gone quiet. Some were frozen mid-motion, towels forgotten in their hands, dicks still out in the open.

A few slowly reached for their gear, eyes darting between us like they were watching a live wire about to spark.

“I’m still the captain of this team,” I said, voice low and rough, pointing at the whole group. “Whether you like it or not. I won’t tolerate any disrespect, especially from any of you. We’re supposed to be a unit out there. Start acting like it or get the hell off my ice.”

The silence stretched. Nobody wanted to be the next one to speak. Jordan muttered something under his breath and finally turned away, grabbing his pads. 

The tension was still crackling, guys shooting each other awkward looks, some pulling on their jerseys faster than usual. My knuckles throbbed and my heart was still hammering from the punch. Part of me wanted to hit something else just to keep the edge off.

Then the locker room door creaked open.

“Uhm… Leo? Can we talk?”

Every single head in the room snapped toward the doorway. Maya stood there, framed against the brighter hallway light, looking small and completely out of place. 

Her eyes widened as she took in the scene—the half-dressed guys, the fully naked ones still dripping from the showers, towels barely covering anything. Jordan’s bare ass was right there in plain view. 

A couple of the guys scrambled for towels, cursing under their breath, but most just froze, staring at my stepsister with a mix of shock and sudden interest.

I could feel the shift in the air, all those eyes bouncing between me and her, questions already forming. 

Maya’s cheeks flushed deep pink, but she didn’t run. She just stood there, gaze locked on mine, waiting like the whole naked team wasn’t even there.