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He smirks and shakes his head. “Are you evernothungry?”
“That’s a big negative, good buddy.”
I follow him from the locker room and out to the walkway that will lead us to the dorms.
“Pizza?” he asks with his face buried in his phone.
“Have I ever said no to pizza? I think the fuck not.” I smack his ass, and he flushes a little.
“You’re a pain in my ass,” he grumbles.
I laugh and squeeze his ass this time. “I’m not, but I could be.”
Paul stops walking, turns to face me, and straightens up. He’s only two inches taller than me, but he’s slimmer. All lean muscle and power, but wrapped in that suit, I can’t look at anything else. There is nothing else but him and the air in my lungs that’s trapped there.
His eyes drop to my mouth, and for a second, I think he’s going to kiss me. I want him to. Take control of me so I get out of my own head. Make the inner monologue stop for just a minute.
Please.
I’ve always thought he was straight, but since I moved here a few months ago, I’ve caught him looking at me. Watching me. I know how men look at other men when there’s interest, but he’s never said anything or done anything else, so I just wait.
“Get your ass back to the dorm.” Paul’s voice is low and dangerous. That tone has never been directed at me, but fuck, it’s so sexy I want to hear it again. It sends a shiver up my spine and goose bumps across my skin. What would it feel like to have his hands on my skin? To have him controlling my body?
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I’m ripped away from the spell he’s put on me. Reaching for it, I answer the phone call from my mom.
“Hey, Mo—”
“Brendon!” Mom’s excited voice is so loud I jerk the phone from my ear. “Do you remember that coach you had in high school? Craig Williams?”
I hated that team. Dude was a drill sergeant, and it was not effective. Not to mention the menace his stepson was.
“Uh, yeah.”
“He got hired to coach at UM!”
My body moves on instinct, getting me away from the crowd of people and into a corner where I won’t have anyone surprise me from behind. The memories of my worst days flood my brain, the taste of Irish Spring a ghost on my tongue. Hit, tripped, humiliated. That team was the worst two years of my life.
Squawk for me, birdy.
I shiver at the words and the history attached to them.
“Brendon? Did you hear me?” she says when I don’t respond, but I can barely hear her over the voices in my head. We play UM later in the season.
My stomach is tight with tension. I hate that I’m afraid of him. That after all this time, just hearing his fucking name turns me back to that person. Terrorized and jumping at shadows. I don’t know if I’ll have to see Chad again, if he plays NCAA hockey. It’s likely I will at some point, and I dread the day it happens. But seeing Coach Williams is enough to fuck me up.
He knew Chad was targeting me, making me a victim, and did nothing.
A warm hand grips the back of my neck, and I flinch. Paul pulls me against him, grounding me in the present.
“Breathe,” he whispers, and my body trembles. I close my eyes and rest my forehead against his chest, the phone basically forgotten against my ear. He squeezes my nape, giving my mind something to focus on instead of the memories.
I have exactly one secret from Paul, and it’s this. I don’t want him to know how weak I really am.
“Hey, you okay?” Jeremy’s voice is close and concerned. I reach for him, too, and he wraps an arm around me, but when Preston growls, I snort. I don’t know why it’s so funny when he gets territorial over Jeremy, but it is.
“Yeah, Mom, that’s great for him.” I lift my head off Paul’s chest and see Preston watching me, but with concern this time. “I’ve gotta go, I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”
“Love you!” The call ends, and I roll my shoulders, then shove my phone back in my pocket. I don’t want to talk about what this was or what it means. I don’t want them picking at me all fucking night, so I do the only thing I can think of. Act normal.
