seven

CHAPTER 7: ADRIAN'S POV

My hand was still burning where I had touched his.

I leaned against the sink in the downstairs bathroom, gripping the porcelain until my knuckles turned white, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My jaw was clenched so tight my teeth ached.

He hadn't even flinched, not even a bit.

I had given him everything, walked down the stairs bare-chested, crowded his space, placed my hand over his, and whispered right into his ear. Any normal person would have at least blinked, pulled away, or shown a second of hesitation. But Elliot Sorelli had just sat there, looking at me like I was an annoying bug he wanted to swat off his laptop screen.

You're trying way too hard, captain.

His cold, mocking words echoed in my ears, making my blood boil. He thought it was a cheap routine. He thought I was just putting on an act to steal his focus.

He had no idea that touching his skin had almost made my own chest explode. He had no idea that when I leaned down, smelling the clean, sharp scent of his soap, I had to physically force my hands not to grab him and pull him into my lap. I was dying inside, losing my mind over a single touch, while he casually wiped his hand against his pants like I was covered in dirt.

"Unbelievable," I growled under my breath, turning on the cold water tap and splashing my face.

If he wanted to play it cold, fine. I could play dirty.

The next morning at the arena, the energy in the locker room was high. The guys were laughing, blasting music from the speakers, and pulling their gear on for our final heavy practice before the season opener.

I sat on the wooden bench, tying my skates with tight, sharp tugs. Across the room, Elliot was sitting on his own bench, meticulously checking the tape on his stick. He looked calm, collected, and utterly detached.

"Alright, boys!" I called out, standing up and clapping my hands loudly to draw everyone's attention. The locker room quieted down instantly. "Coach wants us running high-tempo line drills today, fast transitions and heavy communication. I don't want anyone slacking on their backcheck."

"Got it, cap!" Mason yelled, slapping his glove against Jace's shoulder.

I picked up my helmet, but instead of walking out the door, I took a slow, deliberate path across the room and stopped right in front of Elliot’s stall.

The entire room went quiet. Mason and Jace exchanged a wary glance, while Noah paused in the middle of zipping his bag. Everyone expected a fight, that was our routine after all—stand toe to toe, snarl at each other, and let Coach pull us apart.

Instead, I stepped right between Elliot's open knees as he sat on the bench.

Elliot looked up, his dark eyebrows drawing together in immediate suspicion. "What are you doing, Adrian?"

I flashed a smug grin, leaned down, invading his space in front of the entire team. I reached out, taking the loose chin strap of his helmet, and deliberately pulled it snug, snapping the plastic buckle right beneath his jaw with a soft click. My fingers brushed the smooth skin of his throat, lingering for two deliberate seconds longer than necessary.

"Your strap was loose, Sorelli," I murmured, keeping my voice low enough that only he could hear, letting my thumb lightly skim the sharp edge of his jawline. "Can't have my best playmaker getting hurt before game one."

Elliot went utterly still.

Across the room, Jace choked on his Gatorade. Mason’s jaw practically hit the floor.

"Did... did the cap just adjust Sorelli's helmet?" Jace whispered loudly to Noah. "Without screaming at him?"

"Is the world ending?" Mason added, staring at us in utter shock.

Elliot’s eyes narrowed into dangerous, lethal slits. He didn't pull away, doing so in front of the whole squad would make him look rattled but I felt the sudden, fierce heat radiating off him. His chest heaved against his chest protector.

"Touch my gear again, Kessaro," Elliot whispered, his voice dangerously low, "and I'll break your hand."

I gave him a slow, arrogant smirk, stepping back and patting his shoulder pad twice. "Just looking out for you, stepbro."

I turned on my heel and skated out onto the ice, my pulse racing with a sudden, intoxicating rush of triumph.

I might be losing my heart to him every single day, but on this ice, under these lights, I was going to push Elliot Sorelli until his perfect, unbreakable control completely shattered.