Chapter 3

Amara's PoV

I didn't sleep. I lay on top of the covers with my uniform still smelling like bleach and something warmer underneath it, replaying the five minutes before Pierce started pounding on that door — the way his hands had felt like they belonged there, the way I'd let them. By morning I'd built a whole speech in my head about how it was a one-time thing, an aberration, grief doing something stupid with my judgment. I almost believed it.

Then my phone buzzed at 11:58 p.m. with a text from a number I hadn't saved. You're late. I sat up so fast the room tilted. I didn't reply. I didn't need to — my feet were already finding my boots, and somewhere underneath the part of me that knew better, a smaller, more honest part was already counting the minutes until that door.

I had to admit, he must have read my filthy mind, because Templeton's golden boy seemed to have a strange obsession for the dark.

For three dreadful nights following the incident, I'd sneaked into the locker room, still nervously looking over my shoulder for any sign of Xavier. Yet it was always Malik Reyes in there giving me curt nods before walking out of the door, leaving me to pick up my brain cells.

I flipped on the light switch.

A screech tore from my lips, loud enough to wake the dead.

Tonight, Malik Reyes's scowl finally broke into a bright smile after my scream died off.

"You're a menace!" I cried, clutching my pounding chest as I leaned against the door.

Malik gave a small laugh, shoulders shaking. "I know," he admitted easily. "But the way you scream is straight out of a cartoon!"

My stomach lurched with annoyance as he continued snickering breathlessly.

One would think he was five instead of twenty-one.

Not that I had researched him.

I swear I can hear Xavier's voice ringing in my head, talking about how Malik's dad was a hockey legend for the Arctics and his mom, an Olympic figure skater. "Malik's the walking product of the ultimate ice pörn, Mara. Don't you just want to fap to that?"

I wrinkled my nose at the analogy. Only my ex could turn something beautiful into trash.

Meanwhile, the incredibly attractive giant sitting across the room wiggled his fingers at me, stretching my mind away from my thoughts.

"Seriously," I squeaked. "What do you think you're doing?"

Malik stood, arms folded. "Trying to talk to you," he replied, searching my face. "Can you breathe under that thing? It doesn't stink that bad here."

I grabbed a brush and cleaning solution from the cart. "Trust me, it really does."

As I turned around, Malik had gotten close. So close that his imposing height made my knees turn to butter. I managed to put a little distance between us while my hormones flared up in protest.

"Are you going to file a report against Cole or not?" Malik asked.

A shudder passed through my skin, and I grazed my wrist. "No."

He thrust his fingers through his hair. "Why not?"

I glared at him, flushing with disappointment. Of course, the Gladiators would try to cover each other's backs. I can't believe I fell for his hero act.

"Because it's none of your business." I pointed to the door. "Now get out of here."

The air charged up with a challenge.

Malik broke it by raising a calming hand. "Take it easy, Voss," he said. "The Coles are shareholders with the college; I know because he never shut up about it during practice."

The irony wasn't lost on me. I'd been on the receiving end of Xavier's constant yapping too. His family's multinational corporations could buy the entire university.

I thought about talking to Pierce about Xavier over and over again; I can already see her handing over my pink slip before the case gets buried forever.

I moved past Malik's expectant face to the shower room.

Ten minutes of scrubbing and rinsing down the place, my chest threatened to burst into flames as I walked out.

"What's your name?"

I flinched at the sudden break in the silence.

Malik was still in the locker room, sprawled back on a bench with his head resting on his gym bag.

"Don't you have classes in a few hours?" I asked, eyeing the glowing 2:03 AM on the wall clock as I grabbed a sanitizer from the cart.

"This is an adult conversation. I asked first."

I pressed my lips together before answering. "Amara."

"I'm Malik."

"Whatever."

"You're so uptight."

"And you're a bored rich boy who's so perfect you're stalking the help for a bit of normalcy because you're afraid people will see you differently."

A deep chuckle rang out. "Scratch that. Intuitive," he murmured. "And probably a social psychology major."

The approximate guessing cut me deeper than a knife; I just focused on spraying a locker with the sanitizer.

"What's that look?"

I shot him a dry smile. "I'm not in college."

He raised a brow. "Well, a degree is just expensive paper. Skills make the man." His mouth twitched. "Or the prickly small person."

I caught myself snorting at his easygoing demeanor before gliding to the hockey memorabilia in the corner, where ageless trophies and photos were lined up.

"And what skills do you have besides this one?"

He didn't respond.

I forced my concentration on the current roster photo and flicked Xavier's stupid face.

Footsteps squeaked behind me softly. My shoulders hunched as Malik's bodily heat ensnared me.

His breath feathered my ear. "You'll have to date me to find out."

I set my jaw. Malik was many things and, to my disappointment, still a guy. He looked pleased with himself. Probably spent half his free time saving women in distress like a damn cliché.

His perfect broad grin drew a rumble in my chest, mocking that beer and frozen pizza waiting for me in the fridge.

Speaking of which, my house was so empty I could hear the sound of my breathing coupled with the thoughts of losing Dad, and our non-existent family members who never check in.

I jerked my head up to him, unyielding. "In your fucking dreams, Reyes."

His cocky grin disappeared, replaced by a searing look. "I have to hand it to you, Voss. You almost fooled me."

"I ... I'm not trying to." I swallowed, but the lie died off as I traced the hard line of his jaw.

"Do I make you uneasy?" he murmured, his deep voice making my toes curl in my boots.

I let out a shaky breath, too rigid to back away. "You wish."

He took a step forward. "Good."

Malik didn't give me any second to argue; his hands simply reached to cup my face. I sucked in a breath as he kissed me.

Nothing else moved.

The world was just the whirring of the heater and the drumming of my heart. His mouth moved against mine with confidence, stealing my breath away.

My fist brushed his chest. Useless. I couldn't push him off, but I also didn't stop exploring his mouth either. Just soared on the clouds of pleasure.

Maybe it was going home to a void of silence. I wanted to feel alive.

Mindlessly, I removed my work gloves and reached for the back of his head and caught a fistful of his thick flame hair, basking in his minty taste.

Hungry noises broke out from him. More from me.

His hard body collided into mine, and I backed against a locker with a bang.

My body still pulsed with life; I blinked twice to be sure Malik wasn't a fantasy.

He was right in front of me.

All muscles and brawn.

But then, he began to pull away slowly, unraveling from me like a thread. The sudden emptiness swallowed me, merging into surprise as I gasped for air.

His massive body shifted, casting me a careful look down at me.

"Why'd you stop?" I asked lamely.

He let out a low exhale. "Because I have my answer."

I shook my head as he turned on his heel. I bit back a question. What does that even mean?

Malik Reyes was Xavier's captain. The last person on the planet I should be kissing, like my life depended on his touch. The realization hit my skin like a bucket of ice.

"I practice late nights, Amara," he added, his cocky voice regaining its edge as he headed for the door. "You're going to have to deal with it."