A Challenge

For me, the apartment was not a home. It was a cage.

I stood in the doorway of the small studio. The air smelled like old dust and cleaning spray.But that wasn't the problem. The problem was the furniture. There was one wooden table, two chairs, and a single bed pushed against the far wall.

"You have got to be kidding me," I whispered.

Jax pushed past me.Thud.

"Home sweet home, Captain," Jax said. He sounded tired, but his eyes were still sharp. He walked over to the bed and sat down, testing the mattress. "It’s soft. I’ll take the right side."

"You aren't taking any side," I snapped. I slammed the door shut. "I am the Captain.You are a transfer student who just got here. You can sleep on the floor."

Jax laughed.He laid back on the bed and put his dirty sneakers on the white pillow.

"The Coach said we have to be teammates, Liam. Teammates share. Besides, my back hurts from that hit you gave me. I’m staying right here."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to grab him and throw him out the window. But I couldn't. If I got into another fight, I was off the team. And if I was off the team, my father would never speak to me again.

"Fine," I said, my teeth clenched. "Stay on the bed. I’m going to the rink for the afternoon meeting."

"Wait for me," Jax said, hopping up. "We’re roommates now. We should walk together. It looks better for the cameras."

The walk to the locker room was silent and painful. Every time Jax’s shoulder brushed against mine, I felt a spark of anger. We reached the arena and walked into the locker room. The rest of the team was already there. Usually, it was loud but today, it was dead silent.

Every pair of eyes turned to us. They looked at my bruised lip. They looked at the dark mark on Jax’s jaw. They knew.

"Look at that," a voice called out from the back.

It was Carl. Carl had been on the team as long as I had, and I’ve always known he hated that I was the one wearing the C tag.

"The Golden Boy and the Rebel. I heard the Coach put you two in a little love nest off campus. Is it true, Liam? Did you lose your private dorm because you couldn't keep your hands off each other’s throats?"

"Shut up, Carl," I said. I went to my locker and started pulling off my jacket. My hands were trembling.

"Why should I?" Carl stood up. He walked to the center of the room. He was a big guy, but he wasn't fast. He leaned against a locker and looked at the other players. "I’m just worried about the team. We have a big game on Friday. How are we supposed to win when our Captain is losing his grip? Look at him. He can’t even control one transfer student. He’s losing control of the whole team."

The room stayed quiet. A few players looked at the floor. Some looked at me, waiting for me to do something. To lead. To fight.

"I said shut up," I repeated. I stepped toward Carl.

"Make me," "You're weak, Liam. Your father is an NHL legend, but you? You're just a shadow. You're losing your power. Maybe the C belongs to someone who actually knows how to command respect."

I charged forward. I didn't care about the rules anymore. I grabbed Carl by the collar of his jersey. "Say that again. I dare you."

"Liam, stop!”

It was Jax.He sounded annoyed. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back. "Don't be stupid, Simpson. He’s trying to get you suspended."

"Get your hands off me!" I shouted at Jax. I pushed him away. I hated that he was the one stopping me. I hated that he was seeing me fall apart.

Jax didn't move. He turned to Carl. "And you. If you want the C, try being faster than me on the ice. Until then, keep your mouth shut before I make you."

Carl narrowed his eyes. "You're protecting him now? That's cute. Just remember Liam, everyone is watching. And everyone sees you failing."

Carl walked away, laughing with a few of the other players. I sank onto the bench, my head in my hands. I felt like I was drowning. "Hey," Toby said, walking up to me.He has been my best friend since sixth grade.He sat down next to me.

"Don't listen to him."

"He’s right," I whispered.

6:30pm

We walked out onto the ice. The practice was brutal. Coach Mike didn't say a word. He just blew his whistle and made us skate until we couldn't stand. When practice ended, the sun was setting. Max and I walked back to the tiny apartment in the dark.We didn’t speak, not during practice, and not during the long walk back.

Inside the apartment, the air was freezing. I went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. When I turned around, Jax was already pulling off his shirt. I froze. He was covered in bruises from our fight and the practice. He looked at the single bed, then at me.

"Look," Jax said, his voice cold. "I’m exhausted. You’re exhausted. I’m not sleeping on the floor and waking up with a sore back. It’s a big bed. Stay on your side. If you touch me, I’ll punch you. Deal?"

I looked at the bed. I looked at the dark, cold floor. I had no choice.

"Fine," I said. "Stay on your side."

I turned off the light. We climbed into the bed, lying as far apart as possible. The silence was heavy. I could hear Jax’s breathing. It was steady. I stayed as stiff as a board, making sure no part of me touched him.