Page 21 of Playing Rough

Tristan follows my gaze, frowning. "Ah, trouble in paradise with your new roomie? I thought you guys put the bad blood behind you this weekend."

When I don't respond, he whistles under his breath. "Must've been one hell of a fight. Never seen you brood this hard off the ice. Spill it, bro."

"It's nothing," I mutter, even as London consumes my thoughts. "Just ready to be home."

Tristan clearly doesn't buy it, but he lets it go with a knowing look. "Whatever you say, man. But do me a favor and kiss and make up soon, yeah? Last thing we need is fighting between our star players before the season starts."

I simply nod, throat tight. If only it were that easy.

The awkwardness continues once we're back at the apartment. London disappears while I hole up in my room, restless energy buzzing under my skin.

When he finally returns, shadows haunt his face. We maneuver around each other warily, the lingering tension suffocating. I itch to bridge this sudden gap, but don't know where to even start.

Exhausted by our standoff, I escape to my room, London's cryptic words taunting me...

You don't know the full story.

I toss and turn as darkness closes in, imagination running wild with possibilities. What don't I know? What is London hiding? Or did he tell me everything? My obsession festers until I finally slip into a fitful sleep.

Suddenly, we're on the ice, clashing in a brutal face-off. His eyes blaze with fiery determination as we grapple, hockey sticks clattering to the ice.

Suddenly, he shoves me up against the boards. But instead of a punch, his mouth crashes onto mine in a searing kiss.

I freeze in shock before melting against him, months of simmering tension exploding. Our kissing turns hungry, all teeth and tongue. He tastes like winter—sharp and intoxicating.

We shed layers frantically until it's just feverish skin on skin. I lick along the salty length of his throat, reveling in the throb of his pulse under my tongue. London growls my name, fingers twisting into my hair—

I jolt awake, heart racing, my cock hard as fuck. Shock and arousal war inside me as I stare wild-eyed into the dark. What the actual hell?

Pulse hammering, I grab my phone with shaky fingers. I have to talk to someone before I lose my mind.

Pulling up my anonymous chat app, I start typing to FallingDown.

Me: Yo FD, u up?

FallingDown: Hey man, wide awake. What's going on?

Me: I just had the craziest dream and I’m freaking out.

I gnaw my lip, hesitating. How do I even explain this?

Me: Had the wildest damn dream about someone I’ve never seen that way.

Me: Now I can't stop thinking about them in a way I never have before.

Me: Idk what to do.

FallingDown: Whoa, crazy dude. Those kinds of dreams can mess with your head fo sho.

Me: You're telling me. Now idk how to act around them. Part of me wants to pretend it never happened. But another part can't stop replaying it. Losing it over here.

FallingDown: Hey don't stress it too much. It was just a dream, right?

His reassurance soothes my rattled nerves a little. But uncertainty still eats at me.

Me: Guess you're right. Just never thought I'd feel this way about someone like them.

Me: Feels like it means something.

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