Chapter 2

Chapter 2

~Alex~

The locker room door slammed shut behind Lila and for a long moment, nobody moved. Nobody spoke. I could feel every single pair of eyes on me, burning into my skin. My cheek was still throbbing where she'd slapped me, and I could taste blood in my mouth from where my teeth had cut the inside.

Then Damien turned to me.

"Pathetic," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Absolutely pathetic. You can't even keep your crazy girlfriend under control. She almost made us late for the game, Rivera. Late. Because of your drama."

My jaw tightened. "She's not my…."

"I don't care what she is." Damien stepped closer, his voice dropping but still sharp. "You're a scholarship kid. You're supposed to be invisible. You're supposed to stay out of trouble, keep your head down, and play hockey. That's it. That's all you're here for. But instead, you bring your messy personal life into my locker room and make a scene in front of both teams."

I opened my mouth to snap back, but nothing came out. Because he was right. I hadn't brought Lila here. But she was my problem. And now everyone knew it.

Damien stared at me for a long second. His eyes swept over my face, Then he turned and walked to his stall. He grabbed something from his bag and tossed it at me. I caught it instinctively.

A fresh jersey. Clean and unripped.

"What's this?" I asked, confused.

"You can't go back out there looking like you just got in a fight," Damien said, not looking at me. He grabbed an ice pack from the trainer's table and threw that at me too. I fumbled but caught it. "Put that on your face. You're swelling up like a balloon. Coach will bench you if you look like you got jumped."

I stared at the jersey in my hands. Then at the ice pack. Then at him. Why did he even have a jersey for the opponent team

"Why are you helping me?"

Damien's jaw tightened. His eyes met mine, and for just a second, something flickered there. Something that looked almost like... concern? No. That couldn't be right.

"I'm not helping you," he said flatly. "I'm helping the academy. You're useless if you can't see straight. And I refuse to win a game because some scholarship kid can't handle his girlfriend, Also, just because we play opponent teams doesn’t mean we aren’t classmates, I’m still the captain and I’m responsible for both teams."

He turned away before I could respond. But I saw it. The way his hands clenched at his sides. The way his shoulders were tense. He was angry. But not just at me.

I pressed the ice pack to my cheek and winced. The cold stung, but it felt good. I pulled the fresh jersey over my head. It smelled like him.

"Alright, everyone," Coach shouted, clapping his hands. "Period two in five. Get your heads in the game. Rivera, you okay to play?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"Good. Then let's go."

The ice was cold beneath my skates as I glided out for the second period. The crowd was still loud, still hungry, still buzzing with that electric energy that made my heart race. But my head wasn't in the game.

My cheek was still throbbing. My mind was still spinning. And Damien...

I couldn't stop watching him.

He moved across the rink like he was born on it. Every stride was powerful, every turn sharp and attractive. His stick handling was effortless, the puck glued to his blade like it was part of him. When he shot, the puck flew like a bullet. When he checked someone, they went flying.

He was beautiful.

The thought hit me so hard I almost tripped over my own feet. Beautiful. I was watching Damien and thinking he was beautiful. What the hell was wrong with me?

But I couldn't look away.

His muscles flexed under his jersey as he skated. His jaw was set in that focused line I knew too well. His eyes were sharp, tracking the puck, tracking the players, tracking everything. He was in total control. Completely dominant. And I couldn't stop imagining what it would feel like to be under that control. I was completely lost in his gaze.

"Rivera!"

I snapped back to reality. The puck was sliding past me. I'd missed it completely.

Damien was skating toward me, his expression dark and furious. "What the hell are you doing? Get your head in the game!"

"I'm fine," I said, but my voice came out shaky.

"No, you're not." He was right in front of me now, his body blocking out the rest of the rink. "You're distracted. You're sloppy. Don’t make me win the scholarship kid without a fair fight."

"I said I'm fine.”

He didn't believe me. I could see it in his eyes. He studied my face for a second, and something shifted in his gaze. Something knowing. Something dangerous.

Then he moved.

His body slammed into mine, checking me hard against the boards. The impact knocked the breath out of me. My back hit the glass, and before I could react, he was there, pressed against me, his chest against mine, his hips against mine.

"Get off me," I gasped, shoving at him.

He didn't move. His face was inches from mine, his breath hot on my lips. His eyes were dark, burning with something I couldn't name.

"I can feel it." He said voice low.

“Feel what….”

And then I felt it too.

My dick was hard. So hard it hurt, pressing against the compression shorts, pressing against his thigh. There was no hiding it. No denying it.

Damien's eyes widened. Just for a second. Then something flickered across his face. Shock. Confusion. And then... hunger.

"Rivera," he breathed, and his voice was different now. Rougher. Darker. "Are you...?"

My face burned. I shoved him harder, but he still didn't move. "It’s the pressure and adrenaline from the game." I yelled pushing his body away from mine.