CHAPTER 4- Does he own a fucking shirt?

The arena lights hummed overhead as the team took the ice for morning practice. The cold air bit at Liam’s exposed skin, but he welcomed it. it sharpened his focus. He skated out first, stick tapping against the ice, calling out positions for the warm-up drills. Captain’s job. Always had been.

Raphael joined the ice shortly after, gliding smoothly into the group like he belonged there. Liam’s jaw tightened at the sight. The guy moved with that same effortless confidence that had pissed him off for two seasons straight.

Coach Harlan blew his whistle sharply. “Lannister! You’re paired with Thorne on the top line today. Power play setups, breakouts, the whole package. Get him up to speed.” 

Great! Just fucking great!

Liam cussed under his breath but nodded. “Yes, Coach.”

They started simple: passing drills. Liam sent hard, accurate passes across the ice. Raphael caught every one cleanly and returned them with precision. On the third rep, Raphael threaded a perfect saucer pass that landed right on Liam’s tape for a quick one-timer into the net.

“Not bad,” Liam grunted, skating past him.

Raphael fell in beside him on the way back to the blue line. “You’ve got nice hands yourself, Cap. Real smooth with that stick.”

Liam shot him a sharp glare. “Keep the comments to yourself and focus on the plays.”

Raphael chuckled but didn’t push any further.

The drills got harder.  Liam crashed into the corner after a loose puck, shoulders squared. Raphael came in hard from the side, their bodies colliding with solid force. For a moment, Raphael’s arm wrapped around his waist as they fought for possession, his breath hot against Liam’s helmet.

Liam shoved him off violently. “Watch your fucking hands, Thorne.”

“Just battling, Captain,” Raphael replied, voice muffled behind his visor but clearly amused. “That’s what hands-on training means, right?”

Liam wanted to drop his gloves right there and punch him. Instead, he channeled the anger into the next drill, skating harder, passing sharper. The worst part? Raphael was good. Really good. He read the ice well, anticipated plays, and fit into their system faster than Liam wanted to admit. Their line chemistry felt natural, which only made Liam hate the situation more.

By the end of the on-ice session, sweat poured down Liam’s back. They headed back to the locker room, the team loud and rowdy as usual.

“Damn, you two looked dangerous out there,” Marcus said as he peeled off his shoulder pads. “New roommates, new linemates. You guys gonna besties?”

Big Mike laughed from his bench. “Just don’t get too close during those board battles, Cap. We all know Thorne swings both ways.”

The locker room filled with crude laughter. Liam forced a smirk and shook his head along with them. “Yeah, yeah. Keep dreaming, assholes.”

He caught Raphael stripping off his practice jersey without a care, standing there in just compression shorts while he grabbed a towel. The guy had zero shame — broad shoulders, defined muscle, old scars from years of pro hockey. Liam looked away quickly, disgust curling in his stomach.

Does he have to parade around like that every damn time? Liam didn't understand why he was so affected by Thorne when everyother of his teammates walked butt naked around him.

After most of the guys had filtered out toward the weight room, Liam pulled Raphael aside near the equipment area, keeping his voice low.

“Look. Coach wants me to train you. Fine. I’ll do my job. But this ‘hands-on’ bullshit and all the teasing? It stops. We’re teammates on the ice. That’s it. Keep your personal shit out of my face and out of the locker room.”

Raphael leaned against the wall, towel slung over one shoulder. He studied Liam for a moment, then shrugged. “You’re really worked up about this, huh? It’s just talk, Lannister. I’ve been playing with all kinds of guys for years. Doesn’t affect my game.”

“It affects my head having you in my space,” Liam shot back. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for you. So do us both a favor and keep the pretty boy crap and the rest of it to yourself.”

Raphael’s smirk returned, slow and unbothered. “Whatever you say, Captain.”

The rest of the day dragged. Weight room sessions where Liam made sure they worked on opposite sides. Video review in the meeting room where Coach kept calling them both over to point out adjustments on the screen. Liam kept every interaction strictly professional and as short as possible.

By the time practice ended and they left the facility, the sun was high. The walk back to the apartment was mostly silent, the city noise filling the gaps.

“You always this chatty after a good session?” Raphael asked eventually, breaking the quiet with his unwanted sarcasm.

Liam kept his eyes straight ahead. “I’m fine when I’m not stuck playing nanny for my old rival.”

Back at the apartment, Liam headed straight for the shower, locking the bathroom door firmly behind him. When he came out in fresh clothes, Raphael was in the kitchen, shirtless again, making a protein shake.

“Want one?” Raphael offered, holding up the blender.

“No,” Liam said flatly. He grabbed one of his prepped meals from the fridge and ate standing at the counter, scrolling through his phone.

Raphael took the hint and stayed on his side of the space, but the apartment still felt suffocating. Every clink of dishes, every movement, every breath reminded Liam that his enemy was now living with him 24/7.

Later that evening, after another silent dinner, Raphael disappeared into the bathroom. The shower started running. Door cracked open again. Steam rolled out into the hallway.

Liam sat on the couch reviewing plays on his tablet, jaw clenched. Does this guy ever close doors? Or wear a fucking shirt?

When Raphael emerged in nothing but loose shorts, hair wet, Liam stood up abruptly.

“I’m serious about what I said earlier,” he said. “I don’t care what you do in your personal life. Fuck whoever you want. Just keep that shit away from me and away from the team. This isn’t your old locker room. We don’t do that here.”

Raphael paused, drying his hair with a towel. “You keep saying that like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me. Relax, Lannister. I’m here to play hockey. The rest is just noise.”

Liam didn’t reply. He retreated to his side of the bedroom, climbing into bed early even though it was barely nine. He lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to Raphael moving around the room.

This arrangement was bullshit. Pure bullshit. A guy like Raphael, openly bi, mouthy, and shameless didn’t belong in his space. Liam would do his job as captain. He’d train him. He’d win games with him if he had to.

But he didn’t have to like it. didn't have to like him. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Raphael Thorne get comfortable.

From the other bed, Raphael’s voice drifted over in the dark, low and amused.

“Night, Cap. Sweet dreams about your new roomie.”

Liam turned toward the wall, fists tight under the covers.

Fuck you, Thorne.