Locked In

Chapter Eleven — Locked In

By the time Beck reached his dorm room, he had already made a decision.

Northwood was going to be different.

This was his fresh start.

No Westbridge. No high-school tournaments. No constant competition.

And definitely no Aitor Valdez.

Beck dropped his backpack onto the bed and looked around his room.

It wasn't enormous, but he liked it. A bed pushed against the wall, a wooden desk beneath the window, a wardrobe, a small bookshelf, and a noticeboard that was still completely empty.

It wasn't luxurious.

But it was his.

And that mattered.

He had earned his place at Northwood.

The hockey scholarship had brought him here, and Beck wasn't about to waste it.

He began unpacking, putting his clothes away and arranging his hockey equipment when his phone buzzed.

NORTHWOOD HOCKEY — TEAM ORIENTATION

Tomorrow, 9:00 AM.

Beck smiled.

Finally.

Something he could focus on.

Hockey.

Not Aitor.

Across campus, Aitor had just stepped into his own room.

He stopped for a moment.

His family had gone a little overboard.

A large suitcase sat open beside the bed, filled with neatly folded clothes. Another suitcase contained shoes. A brand-new laptop sat on the desk, still inside part of its packaging, while a leather travel bag rested against the wardrobe.

There were even several boxes his parents had shipped ahead of him.

Aitor sighed.

Of course they had.

He picked up a small framed photograph from the desk.

His family.

Everyone dressed perfectly, smiling for the camera.

His father's hand rested proudly on his shoulder.

Aitor placed the photograph back down.

His family wanted him to succeed.

There was nothing wrong with that.

But with success came expectations.

The Valdez name.

The family business.

His future.

Marriage.

Children.

A wife.

Everything had already been planned in their heads.

Aitor's phone buzzed.

Mother: Family dinner next week. Don't make other plans.

He stared at the message for several seconds.

Then locked his phone.

"Not now."

He didn't want to think about any of it.

Not today.

Today, he was simply a university student.

And a hockey player.

He grabbed his hockey bag and left.

The next morning, the Northwood hockey team gathered in a classroom inside the athletic centre.

Beck arrived early and chose a seat near the back.

He recognized a few players from the previous day, but most of them were strangers.

A few minutes later, Aitor walked through the door.

Beck's expression immediately changed.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Aitor heard him.

He looked over.

"You seem disappointed."

"I was having a good morning."

"And now?"

"Now I'm reconsidering."

Aitor gave him an unimpressed look before taking a seat several rows away.

The coach entered soon afterward.

"Morning, gentlemen."

The room quieted.

"Welcome to Northwood hockey."

For the next hour, the team went through everything they needed to know.

Training schedules.

Classes.

Travel.

Team expectations.

Academic requirements.

The coach made it clear that being talented on the ice wasn't enough.

"You represent this university every time you put on that jersey," he said. "So act like it."

Beck listened carefully.

His scholarship depended on him keeping up academically and performing well on the ice.

He wasn't going to give anyone a reason to question whether he deserved it.

Then came the locker assignments.

"Hayes."

Beck looked up.

"Locker twelve."

"Got it."

"Valdez."

Aitor raised his hand.

"Locker thirteen."

Beck slowly turned his head.

Aitor was already looking at him.

Neither said anything.

Beck looked back toward the coach.

Of course.

An hour later, the locker room was filled with noise.

Players were talking, laughing, introducing themselves, and arguing about who had the best chance of making the starting line.

Beck stood at locker twelve, organizing his equipment.

Aitor stood beside locker thirteen.

Beck glanced at him.

Then at the locker.

Then back at him.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Aitor didn't turn around.

"It's a locker, Hayes."

"Of course you'd say that."

Aitor finally looked at him.

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you always somehow end up getting everything."

Aitor frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

"The room. The equipment. Everything."

"You're angry because my parents bought me nice things?"

Beck laughed.

"I'm angry because you act like everyone else is beneath you."

"I don't."

"You do."

Aitor shut his locker.

"You've known me for years, Beck. You still don't know me."

Beck crossed his arms.

"I know enough."

"No, you know what you decided I was."

That made Beck pause.

Only for a second.

Then he shook it off.

"You're a rich kid who thinks money solves everything."

Aitor's expression hardened.

"And you're a jealous kid who thinks having less money makes you more deserving."

Beck's smile disappeared.

"Don't call me jealous."

"Then stop acting like it."

"You think because your family can buy whatever they want, you're better than everyone?"

"I never said that."

"You don't have to."

Aitor stepped closer.

"You don't know anything about my life."

"And you don't know anything about mine."

"Exactly."

For a moment, neither spoke.

There was something strange about the silence.

They had argued hundreds of times before.

But this felt different.

Maybe because they weren't high-school kids anymore.

Maybe because they were standing in the same locker room, wearing the same university colors.

Or maybe because neither of them knew how to deal with the fact that the rivalry they'd left behind hadn't stayed behind.

Beck grabbed his bag.

"Whatever."

He walked toward the door.

Aitor turned back toward his locker.

Neither noticed that the rest of the team had already left.

Neither noticed the door swinging shut behind them.

Click.

Beck reached the door a few seconds later.

He pulled the handle.

Nothing.

He tried again.

"Aitor."

"What?"

"It's locked."

Aitor looked over.

"What?"

"The door."

He walked over and tried it himself.

Nothing.

He knocked.

"Hello?"

Silence.

Aitor knocked harder.

"Coach?"

Nothing.

Beck pulled out his phone.

"No signal."

Aitor checked his.

"Same."

Beck stared at the locked door.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Aitor leaned against the wall.

"Of all people..."

Beck looked at him.

"What?"

"...to get locked in a room with."

Beck scoffed.

"Trust me. The feeling is mutual."

Aitor raised an eyebrow.

"Good."

They stood there in silence.

No teammates.

No coach.

No way to walk away from each other.

Just Beck.

Just Aitor.

And one locked door.

Neither of them knew how long they would be trapped there.

But they were about to find out exactly how difficult it was to stay enemies when there was nowhere to run.