CHAPTER TWO

Theodore

I couldn't move or even speak.

My entire body shook in fury at him being so close and I refused to give him the satisfaction of watching me scramble.

Whatever stupid idea he had in his mind I wouldn't let him do it.

"Nothing to say?" He tilted his head in curiosity with an infuriating amusement in his eyes that I wanted to poke so bad.

"Get out of my locker room." I said through gritted teeth.

"Your locker room." He looked around slowly, taking in the empty benches and darkness. "You lost the bet so right now it doesn't look like yours right now."

I took a step forward and that was a bad idea in retrospect because it closed the distance between us and Voss didn't step back. His eyes momentarily dropped to my lips before coming back up.

"The bet was stupid," I said. "We were drunk."

"Maybe you were drunk." He slid his hands into his jacket pockets, completely at ease. "But as far as I'm concerned we were both very clear-headed."

"It doesn't count."

"You shook my hand, Callahan."

"I was angry."

"You're always angry." His mouth curved. "That's not a get-out clause."

I stepped around him toward my bag. He didn't stop me just turned, tracking me with his eye, making the hairs at the back of my neck stand due to his unnerving attention.

I knew I couldn't get out of this. A bet in the hockey world is as big as signing a document. If not fulfilled you'll never be trusted by anyone.

I grabbed my bag off the hook and unzipped it then stared into it without actually seeing a single thing inside because my jaw was so tight it was starting to ache.

How do I get out of this—

"You know what I find interesting?" he said from behind me.

"I genuinely don't care." Just shut up.

"You're not even asking what I want."

I turned around. "Because whatever it is, the answer is no."

"That's not how the bet works."

"I don't care how the bet works."

"Then you shouldn't have made it." He said smugly then walked toward me.

I stayed exactly where I was because I refused — absolutely refused — to be the one who stepped back.

He stopped when there was less than a foot between us and looked at me with a satisfied look in his eyes.

"You're doing that thing," he said.

"What thing?”

"The one where you go completely still when you're scared."

Big fucking joke. Scared? Of him? Never in this life and the next.

The laugh that came out of me was sharp and humorless. "I'm not scared of you, Voss."

"I didn't say you were scared of me."

Huh?

I didn't ask what he meant because it was irrelevant regardless.

He reached up, making me flinch but he simply reached past me and shut my locker with one finger very slowly.

My heart started to race.

What is this? I became hyper aware of how…good he smelled.

"You owe me," he said quietly.

"Back up."

"Or?"

"Back. The. Fuck. Up."

He took one step back with an infuriating smile on his face. “Gotcha…” he muttered underneath his breath then turned and walked away from me towards the center of the room.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"You know what the funny part is?" He stopped with his back to me, looking at the row of empty benches. "You made that bet because you thought losing was impossible. Not because you'd thought through what losing meant." He glanced back over his shoulder. "That's sloppy, Callahan. You're usually smarter than that."

"Don't talk about me."

"Hard not to. You're very readable and adorable."

I dropped my bag, stormed across the room in anger before my brain could even catch up with what I was doing. He turned when he heard me coming and we ended up chest to chest, close enough that I could see the little speck in his eyes as well as his pupils dilating.

"I don't know what game you think you're playing," I said, voice low. "But I'm not doing this."

"You keep saying that."

"Because I keep meaning it."

"Do you?" He wasn't asking.

"Whatever you think the bet entitles you to — it's not this. It was never this. So take whatever you want from the loss. An apology, a statement, I don't care, pick something that makes sense right now and we're done."

He looked at me for a long moment, I could see he wheels turning in his yes as he though about whatever fucked up things go through Voss’ head. Then he reached out and straightened the collar of my shirt.

His fingers barely grazed my neck before he dropped his hand.

I went completely rigid.

"You're doing it again," he said softly.

"Don't touch me."

"I barely touched you."

"Don't."

I didn't like the way he was looking at me, didn't like that I was still standing this close, didn't like the fact that my collar felt different from where his fingers had been even though that was insane.

"The bet isn't a prank," he said. "And I don't need a statement or an apology. You know what you agreed to."

"What I agreed to, I agreed to drunk, in a bar, after you—"

"After I what?"

I stopped.

He waited.

"After you pushed me," I finished, which was not what I'd started to say and he probably knew it.

"I'm going to collect, Callahan. Not all at once." He took one step back and then another, unhurried, watching my face the whole time. "That's what tonight is. Consider it an introduction."

"An introduction to what, exactly."

In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance and pressed his lips against mine. My brain couldn't even process what was happening. His lips were soft and tasted like chocolate as he stayed there for a moment, then moved a bit before pulling back.

All I could do was stare.

He didn't look victorious or smug. He had a soft look in his eyes and a bit of longing.

"The bet isn't over," he said.

He picked up his bag from the doorway where he'd apparently left it before I'd even noticed he'd put it down and walked out of my locker room without looking back.

The door swung shut.

I stood in the middle of the room in the half-dark silence and pressed two fingers to my mouth without thinking about it, then dropped my hand immediately and stared at the wall.

"What have I gotten myself into?”