Page 4 of Under Pressure

The noise from the other players in the gym with us feels like static in my ears as I bear down, trying to steal a bit more time before I collapse. I’m not the only guy on the floor, but in this moment, it feels like it. I close my eyes, tasting iron.

A handful of seconds later, my knees hit the thick mat beneath me.

“Just over four minutes,” Kellan says before I’ve found the strength to ask.

I roll onto my back again and stare up at the ceiling while I catch my breath. My abs are rigid when I drop a hand to them, feeling how slick they are. The band of the shorts around my waist sticks uncomfortably, so I tug at it, desperate to cool down.

“Thanks.”

He grunts. “How long are you planning on staying? We’ve got a bit before we need to be here for the game.”

“I’m going to run for a bit before I head out. Got a couple of errands to run.”

“Want company?”

No.

“Nah, they’re all pretty lame. I’ll be at your place tonight, though.”

His brow twitches, and his mouth opens as if he’s about to argue, but he doesn’t get the chance. The easy, friendly chatter in the gym gets snuffed out the second the door swings open and Asher Vaughn barrels in. He’s got a seething look on his face, but that’s not out of the ordinary for him.

Both sides of his coin are equally as grouchy. You either get the snippy grouch or the silent one.

He drags his dark eyes across the gym, examining the faces of every person spread out in here before noticing me andKellan. A bit of the tension drains from his expression. The relief isn’t enough to lighten that scowl.

“Hey, man,” Kellan says while sliding his weight plates onto a barbell.

I don’t bother looking at how heavy they are. He lifts the most out of all of us, and as much as I love a bit of competition, I’m not interested in fucking up my arm right now.

Asher jerks his head in a barely there nod of acknowledgment. I roll my body up and drape my arms over my knees, catching my breath.

“You coming tonight, too?” I ask him, already doubting it.

“Where?”

“To my place. If we win, it’ll be a celebration. Even Roman’s coming,” Kellan says, his chest puffing slightly.

I don’t blame him for being proud of that. It’s quite an accomplishment to get our manager to go anywhere with us when we’re not playing. Even though the broody bastard hasn’t exactly announced it to us, I know he’s fallen for Brielle, Wes’ little sister, over the last few weeks. She’s the one truly responsible for his change of heart, but Kellan can take the win for now.

Coach’s business is his business, even if I’ve grown quite close with Brielle this last year.

“And if we don’t win?” Asher counters gruffly.

Kellan finishes his first lift and then lets the weights fall to the ground. “Then we can all lick our wounds together, I guess. I don’t fucking know. Just come.”

“I’m not coming to a communal wound-licking session,” I say, nose crinkling.

Preparing to lift the weight bar again, Kellan gives me a dramatically disappointed glance. “Oh, so not only are you too good to play two nights in a row, but you won’t even spare me a few soothing licks? Who even are you anymore?”

“Who said I won’t play again tonight? If your bat stays cold, I’ll have to come in and save your ass again.”

“It’s not cold,” he grunts.

Asher passes me and steps onto a treadmill. Buttons chime as he fiddles with the settings. “It’s cold.”

“Actually, I take my invitation back,” Kellan snips, growing red with exertion.

The weights fall to the ground for a heartbeat before he’s lifting them again, spitting out a harsh breath. I roll my eyes and climb to my feet, turning away from him. Asher’s not looking at either of us, walking at a brisk pace. I settle at the machine beside him and choose my speed, keeping it light for now.