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Eventually, I break away from the chaos to take a piss. As I'm washing my hands, the door swings open and Riot stalks in. We lock eyes in the mirror, tension coiling tight.
He moves to the urinal, jaw clenched. The silence between us grows heavy. I debate just making a quick exit, but stand my ground. If Golden Boy wants another confrontation, I'll give it to him.
Riot zips up and turns to the sink, rolling up his sleeves. The smooth lines of black ink tracing his forearms are distracting as hell.Focus, Lancaster.
"Got something you wanna say to me?" I challenge into the taut silence.
Riot's blue eyes harden to shards of ice in the mirror as he scrubs his hands. "You've been off during practices lately. Sloppy handling, bad turnover reads. What's going on?"
I bristle at the criticism. "Nothing I can't handle. Worry about your own game, Kensington."
He turns to face me, arms crossed. "When your shitty performance affects the team, it becomes my business. We can't afford mistakes this close to playoffs."
The condescension in his tone makes my blood boil. This self-righteous prick has been riding my ass relentlessly since our blowup, despite his own obvious issues. I step closer, fists clenched.
"I've got my mistakes handled. Trust me. Question is, can you handle yours?" I shoot back. Or are you too busy kissing Coach’s ass and acting like you don't have any flaws?
Fiery annoyance flashes across Riot's face. He steps into my space, eyes blazing into mine. "Watch yourself, Hotshot. You have no goddamn clue what you're talking about."
We glower at each other; the air molten between us. Voices sound from the hallway outside.
Riot's jaw tightens. "Forget it. This conversation is over."
He brushes past me roughly. Losing the fight isn't an option for me right now. I follow him out and grab his arm.
"We're settling this. Now."
Riot glares but allows me to pull him out of the side exit into the alley. The door slams shut, muffling the noise inside.
We square off as I crowd him against the brick wall. The flashy neon "Puck & Pint" sign bathes his face in crimson light.
"The fuck is your issue lately, Kensington?" I demand. "You've been on my case nonstop since the retreat, just waiting for me to slip up."
Riot's lip curls derisively. "Maybe because I expect more from my star wing and he's been playing like dogshit."
The dig hits its mark. Anger and frustration boil over. I slam my hands against the wall on either side of his head. Riot tenses but doesn't retreat.
"Keep talking shit, see where it gets you," I growl into his face. "I'm so fucking done with your mind games and power trips."
Riot's arctic eyes drill into mine. "Then tell me what the hell has been up with you. Is it your past? Something going on with your family?" His gaze bores into me relentlessly. "Talk to me, London."
My pulse kicks at hearing my real name on his lips. I search his face, thrown. Is that actual concern creeping through the frost in his eyes? It leaves me off-balance.
I step back, scrubbing a hand over my face. "Just leave it alone, Riot." The fight bleeds from my voice. I sound weary even to myself. I’m so fucking tired of fighting.
He studies me for a long moment, body coiled with tension. I brace for another scathing retort. Instead, he sighs, leaning back against the wall.
"Truce, alright? I shouldn't have come at you so hard." Quieter, almost to himself, he mutters, "It’s not like I have room to judge anyone's issues."
Surprise flickers through me. Riot admitting he was out of line rocks my worldview more than anything so far. The defensive anger simmering in my blood fades as quickly as it flared.
Suddenly, he's right in front of me, crowding me back against the brick wall. His eyes blaze into mine, and they’re not cold anymore. No, they’re hot and unrelenting. "I'm so fucking sick of this back and forth between us." His voice is a ragged growl that rakes down my spine, leaving fire in its wake. "Aren't you?"
My breaths come faster as we stare each other down. The space between us shimmers with unseen sparks.
Before I can respond, his mouth crashes onto mine in a searing kiss. Shock freezes me for an endless moment before I'm kissing him back fiercely, months of pent up tension exploding between us.
It's angry and raw, full of teeth and heat. My fingers twist into the front of his soft t-shirt, holding him against me. Our tongues clash as we devour each other's mouths. He tastes like beer and mint andRiot. Fucking intoxicating.
