บททั้งหมดของ ICE AND ARROGANCE : บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

The walk back from the arena felt longer than usual, the night air sharp against my flushed skin. Every step sent a dull throb through my bruised ribs, but the real ache lived somewhere deeper — in the memory of Caleb’s mouth on mine, the way his hands had trembled against my skin, the raw honesty in his voice when he admitted he was done pretending. My lips still tingled. My body still hummed with unfinished need. And through it all, the thin thread of fear that someone might have seen us. I slipped into 114 Oak Street as quietly as I could. The house was dark and still, only the faint hum of the refrigerator downstairs breaking the silence. I paused at the top of the stairs, palm pressed against Caleb’s door for one heartbeat, then forced myself into my own room. The paper-thin wall between us felt both a mercy and a curse tonight. I changed into soft sleep shorts and a thin tank top, then lay down, staring at the ceiling. Sleep refused to come. Every time I closed my eyes I s

The breakfast table felt like a minefield disguised as normalcy. I sat across from Caleb again, the same spot that had become both torture and secret comfort. My ribs throbbed with every breath, the deep bruises hidden beneath my hoodie but impossible to ignore in the way I held myself. The team chatted around us—Riot recounting a ridiculous story from last night’s video games, Tank and Liam arguing over who got the last pancake—but the air between Caleb and me crackled with everything we couldn’t say. His foot remained hooked around my ankle under the table, a small, hidden anchor. Every few seconds he would shift, the subtle pressure sending warmth racing up my leg. I kept my eyes on my plate, but I could feel his gaze on me—stormy grey, heavy with restraint and the memory of his body over mine just hours earlier. Riot suddenly leaned forward, eyes narrowing playfully. “Yo, Jones. You’re moving like you got hit by a truck yesterday. That last hit from Harlow still got you me

The weight room smelled of sweat, metal, and the faint menthol of muscle rub. Afternoon light slanted through the high windows, catching on the racks of iron and the mirrors lining the far wall. Most of the team had already finished their lifts and headed out, but Caleb had lingered—ostensibly to spot the last few guys, really to keep me in his line of sight. I was on the bench press, teeth gritted, trying to push through the lingering pain in my ribs. The bar felt heavier than usual today, each rep pulling at the deep bruises Kane had gifted me. I managed three more before my arms started shaking. Caleb was there instantly, hands hovering under the bar without touching it. “That’s enough.” “I’ve got two more,” I hissed, arms trembling. His voice dropped, low enough for only me to hear. “You’re favoring your left side again. Stop pushing before you tear something.” His fingers brushed the underside of the bar, ready to take the weight if I faltered. The almost-touch sent hea

The locker room after practice smelled of sweat, icy hot, and the growing weight of unspoken questions. Most of the guys were already dressed and drifting out, but a few lingered — Riot toweling off near his locker, Tank stretching massive shoulders, Liam scrolling his phone with a smirk that made my stomach tighten. Shadow, as always, watched everything without saying much. I kept my head down, pulling on a fresh hoodie while trying to ignore the deep ache in my ribs. Every movement reminded me of Kane’s hits, of Lila’s story, of the way Caleb had kissed every bruise like he could erase them. Caleb stood at the far end, captain’s authority wrapped around him like armor. But I felt his eyes on me the entire time — heavy, protective, burning with everything we couldn’t say in front of the team. Riot broke the silence first, voice casual but loaded. “So… anyone else notice how the Captain’s been running extra drills with Jones lately? Like, a lot of extra drills.” Liam didn’t

The weight room had mostly cleared out, but the heavy, suffocating vibe lingered. I stayed behind on purpose, pretending to stretch while the last few guys headed for the showers. My ribs burned with every movement, the deep bruises pulling tight with every breath, but I couldn’t leave yet. Not while Caleb was still here. He was leaning against the far wall by the squat rack, arms crossed, watching me with that intense, stormy stare that always made my skin prickle. He kept his captain’s mask firmly in place for anyone glancing back, but I could see the cracks—the tight set of his jaw, the restless drumming of his fingers against his bicep. The moment the door clicked shut behind the last teammate, the room went completely still. Caleb crossed the floor in a few heavy strides. He didn't stop until he had me backed right up against the mirrored wall. One hand braced next to my head; the other hovered just over my bruised side, careful not to touch. “You shouldn’t be here,” he