CHAPTER 11- WAS RAPHAEL HURT?

Liam rushed out of the shower stall with a towel wrapped tightly around his waist, water still dripping from his hair. The locker room was slowly filling up as the teammates that had gone in earlier were coming out now. But all Liam could focus on was the image burned into his brain.

Raphael Thorne’s bare ass.

Firm. Wet. Water streaming down the curve of it like some kind of fucking invitation. He needed to quit imagining and reimagining everything that had to do with Thorne.

He clenched his jaw and started whistling — some random upbeat tune he barely knew — trying desperately to drown out the memory. The sharp sound cut through the chatter as he walked back to his locker and started pulling on his clothes.

Lee, already half-dressed a few lockers down, raised an eyebrow. “What’s with the sudden chirpiness, Cap? Seconds ago you were a grumpy sad mess nervous about our competition, and now you’re whistling like you just won the lottery.”

Liam’s whistling faltered for half a second. Panic flared in his chest. Fuck. What the hell do I even say?

He forced a chuckle, keeping his tone light as he pulled on his shirt. “Just in a good mood, I guess. Practice is over. Can’t complain.”

Before he could say more, Marcus’s loud mouth boomed across the room from where he was lacing up his shoes. “Nah, boys — Cap’s got a date tonight! That’s why he’s all happy. He’s finally getting some!”

The locker room exploded in whistles and hoots. Marcus!!! You and your fucking big mouth. Big Mike slapped his thigh with a laugh. “Atta boy, Lannister! About time you stopped being all business and got yourself some pussy!”

Fred grinned, throwing a balled-up sock at Liam. “Who is she? That cheerleader you’ve been texting? Chloe? Or someone new?”

Lee joined in, smirking. “Make sure you actually finish this time, Cap. We all heard about the Sarah incident.”

The teasing was relentless and crude, exactly the kind of locker room shit they threw around every day. Normally Liam would laugh along and fire back. Today, it made his skin crawl.

He forced a grin anyway. “You assholes wish you had my game.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Raphael. The man had been quiet, pulling on a black hoodie over his damp hair. At Marcus’s announcement, Raphael paused for just a fraction of a second. Liam caught the subtle tightening of his jaw, the way his dark eyes flicked toward him before dropping back to his bag.

Was that… hurt? No. Probably just my imagination.

“You have a date?” Raphael asked, voice casual but quieter than usual.

Liam shrugged, not looking at him as he zipped up his hoodie. “Yeah. Just grabbing breakfast with Marcus and some girls. Nothing serious.” why did he feel the need to downplay it?

Raphael hummed but said nothing else. He just continued dressing in silence.

Big Mike cut in again, loud as ever. “Man, I’m jealous of how fast and willingly you get pussy, Cap. Some of us have to work for it.”

His statement started another round of laughter and jokes. Raphael didn’t join in though. He stayed quiet, focused on tying his shoes.

Liam felt a strange twist in his chest but shoved it down hard. Doesn’t matter. None of this matters.

He finished dressing quickly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. The guys kept ribbing him as they filtered out, but Liam’s mind was already miles away — stuck on wet skin, broad shoulders, and the way Raphael had looked under the shower spray.

Stop. Fucking stop.

Marcus was waiting for him outside the arena, grinning like an idiot. “Come on, man. They’re meeting us at that coffee shop two blocks down. This is gonna be good.”

They started walking down the sidewalk together. The morning air was crisp, the city waking up around them. Marcus was practically bouncing.

“So here’s the deal,” Marcus said, pulling out his phone. “I met Gwen at that party thing last month. She’s funny, smart, has this killer smile. And her friend — Emma — is apparently exactly your type. Tall, athletic, long brown hair, great sense of humor. You’re gonna love her.”

He held up his phone, showing a picture of the two girls smiling at the camera. Gwen was cute, blonde and bubbly. Emma was striking, the kind of girl who would turn heads anywhere. Definitely my type.

Liam nodded, forcing enthusiasm. “Yeah, man. They look hot. Emma’s definitely sexier.”

"You wish." Marcus scoffed.

Liam shrugged his shoulders with a smirk.

Outwardly, he played the part. Inwardly, he felt… nothing.

No spark. No interest. No stirring in his gut the way he was supposed to feel when looking at pretty girls.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Marcus kept talking as they walked, hyping the girls up, planning how they’d play it at breakfast. Liam hummed responses at the right moments, laughing when he was supposed to, but his mind kept drifting back to the locker room.

To Raphael’s bare back under the water.

To the way his muscles had shifted when he turned slightly.

To that ridiculous, unwanted heat that had pooled low in his stomach.

He was supposed to be excited about this double date. He was supposed to want this — to flirt, to charm Emma, to get laid and prove to himself that last night with Chloe was just a fluke.

Instead, he felt hollow. Detached. Like he was watching himself go through the motions.

This is Raphael’s fault. All of it. He’s in my head. Twisting everything. I just need to get through this breakfast, be a good wingman for Marcus, and forget about that asshole.

They reached the coffee shop. Marcus pulled open the door with a grin.

“Showtime, Cap.”

Liam forced his signature confident charming smile as they stepped inside.