“It will not happen again.”
“No scandals. Keep your head down, Zotov,” he said.
“You do not have to worry about me,” I told him.
Karter crossed through the hallway in the background right as Phillips finished speaking. My gaze snapped to him automatically. Seeing him out there looking so clean and unaffected messed with my head.
The memory of the team van resurfaced. Just twelve hours ago, I had him pinned beneath me. And I could still hear the desperate sounds he made while my fingers gripped his hair.
Phillips patted my arm, pulling my attention back. “See that you keep it that way. Have a good night.”
“Good night,” I said.
I watched Phillips disappear into the parking lot before the reality of his warning sank in. A scandal with someone like Karter would kill my draft chances. If even one rumor got out about what we did, that contract would be snatched away. It was incredibly stupid to risk everything for a guy from a different world.
Panic tightened my chest and forced my legs to move. I needed physical distance from Karter, so I pushed through the crowded hallway and stepped out into the cold night. The team bus was already rumbling near the curb while the guys loaded their bags. I hung back by the doors to watch the team file inside. Karter boarded a few moments later with a guy I recognized as his freshman roommate trailing behind him.
I averted my gaze from him, waiting until he settled into the back rows before I climbed aboard and chose a seat three rows ahead of him.
The bus rumbled down the highway. I made sure to sit back and drape my arm over the empty seat. Keeping up a wall of swagger was the only way to hide my actual thoughts from the rest of the guys.
“Did you see their defense crumble in the third, man?” Perez asked.
“They stopped skating,” I told him casually. “That big defenseman completely gave up.”
“He was terrified when you checked him into the boards.” Perez laughed loud enough for the front rows to hear. “Seriously, I thought he was gonna cry.”
I gave a short nod. “He should have been.”
I killed time by watching the safety mirror above the driver’s head. Yellow streetlights flashed across the curved glass, letting me track Karter in the back row. Karter sat next to his freshman roommate, looking tired, but he was smiling and leaning into whatever the kid was saying.
I gripped the edge of my seat. It made me sick to see how easily he fit in with someone else. He belonged in that bright and comfortable world. And I was the one pulling him down.
I looked away from the mirror before I broke something.
The eight-hour bus ride back to campus gave the post-game high plenty of time to wear off. By the fifth hour, the mood inside the bus turned sour. The legacy guys sitting near the front started bragging loudly about their shifts, and the scholarship players in my section threw comments back about who carried the game.
“Zotov, are you even listening?” Perez asked. He stopped bouncing his knee and studied my profile.
I scratched the side of my chin and let the lie come easily. “Yeah. Just thinking about the rest of the season.”
“We took this tournament, but we have a real shot at the actual NACH title if we keep playing like this,” Perez said.
“We do,” I agreed.
My skin felt too hot. I just wanted Karter to look at me. I hated watching him give his attention to someone else for eight straight hours. I wanted that panicked, hyper-focused look he only gave me when I had him backed into a corner.
A few hours later, the bus finally pulled into the Ridge Cross parking lot, but eight hours of trapped irritation poured right out the doors with us. I grabbed my duffel bag and stepped down into the freezing night air. The earlier argument from the bus immediately escalated between the parked cars.
“You guys get all the prime ice time!” Perez yelled.
He stood nose-to-nose with Trenton, one of Elliot’s legacy guys. Another scholarship player stepped up to back Perez.
“Maybe if you could actually pass the puck, you would play more,” Trenton snapped back. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his designer jacket.
Perez shoved Trenton hard in the shoulder. “Say that again.”
Some talkative legacy freshman I barely recognized stepped up next to Trenton. “Back off.”
