All Chapters of Craving The Enemy: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

CHAPTER 11 MASONI’d seen Tyler pissed before. Hell, I’d made a sport out of it. But the way he blew up at me during drills… that wasn’t just irritation. That was something heavier.Something that had nothing to do with me stealing a puck.He’d been off all morning, jaw tight, eyes sharp, and yeah, I’d pushed him — because that’s what I do. But now, standing in the locker room, watching him peel off his gear like it was a personal insult, I couldn’t stop wondering…Did he actually hate me that much?The smell of sweat and ice filled the air as I grabbed my towel and followed him toward the showers. He didn’t look back, didn’t even acknowledge me, but I took the stall right next to his anyway.Water thundered against tile. I could hear his breathing over it — steady at first, then quicker.I smirked to myself.“Make sure you wash where it counts, Reyes,” I called over the wall.There was a pause, then his voice, clipped but… not entirely cold. “Worry about your own hygiene, Grant.”“

CHAPTER 13 TYLER I paced my room like a caged animal. My lips still tingled. Every time I closed my eyes, I could feel him — the taste of beer, the rough drag of his tongue, the press of his chest against mine. “Fucking hell,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “It was just a dare. Just a stupid dare.” My reflection in the mirror didn’t buy it. The door clicked open without warning. “Ever heard of knocking?” I snapped, spinning around. Mason leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, that same infuriating smirk on his face. “You left in such a hurry, Reyes. Thought I’d check if you were okay. And besides, it's my room too.” “I’m fine.” “You sure? ’Cause you ran like a guy who just got kissed senseless.” “That’s not what happened.” “Mm.” He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. “Looked like it to me.” I backed up as he closed the distance. “Don’t you have other people to bother?” “Nope. Just you.” “Mason—” He moved faster than I expected, grabbing my

CHAPTER 15MASON Morning practice. Cold air biting at my face. Coach Allen barking orders like we were prepping for war.“Line up! Sticks on the ice, let’s move!”We started with suicides — sprint to the blue line, back to the goal line, sprint to center ice, back, sprint to the far blue line, back. Over and over until my lungs burned.Avery groaned beside me. “Why do I play goalie again?”“Because you like having a cage to hide behind,” Damien called from the other end.“I like not dying,” Avery shot back.Then came stickhandling drills — weaving through cones, puck control tight enough to keep from losing it. I made it through in under twenty seconds.“Show-off,” Damien muttered when I skated past him.“Not my fault you skate like an old man,” I said.Coach’s whistle shrieked. “Laps! Let’s go!”We broke into a jog around the lake trail that bordered the retreat grounds — no skates, just running shoes and cold air filling our lungs.Avery dropped into step next to me. “Bet you twent

CHAPTER 17MASON I spotted him before I even saw Tyler.Tall, broad-shouldered, immaculate as ever in a tailored suit — Antonio Reyes. The man could’ve stepped straight out of a Forbes cover shoot. Tyler was standing a few feet away, hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders stiff.Something about that stiffness told me exactly what kind of conversation they were having.I headed straight over.“Magandang umaga, Tito Antonio,” I said smoothly, using the Filipino honorific for a friend’s father.Tyler’s head snapped toward me. His dad’s gaze landed on me like a weight.“Mason Grant,” Antonio said, his voice even, polite. “It’s been a while.”“Too long,” I agreed, smiling like I owned the moment. “How’s business?”“Flourishing.” He looked me up and down. “And you? Found a respectable young woman yet?”I didn’t blink. “For the last time, Tito… I’m gay.”A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Yes. I remember.”Tyler muttered, “Mason—”“Relax, Reyes,” I said under my breath.Just then, a warm, lilt

CHAPTER 19MASONTyler storms out like I just insulted his mother. Jaw tight, hands clenched, shoulders stiff. The sound of the door slamming down the hall echoes like victory.I touch my cheek where he slapped me earlier, still warm, still stinging. And I smirk. Not because I like pain — though, in the right circumstances, I’m not opposed — but because I know him. That wasn’t disgust. That was heat.“You look like you just scored a hat trick,” Avery drawls from where he’s sprawled on the couch, hockey bag half-open, smelling like sweat and arrogance.Damien raises an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. “Who’d you piss off this time?”I drop onto the armrest of Avery’s seat, grab his water, and take a long swig before answering. “Tyler.”Both of them groan at the same time.“You and Reyes,” Damien says, shaking his head. “Is this a rivalry or a mating dance? I can’t tell anymore.”I smirk. “Can’t it be both?”Avery snorts. “Oh, it’s definitely both. Only difference is, mating danc