Chapter 4 GETTING CLOSER

JAKE

Thirty days of trying to be co-players and teammates while living in a room the size of a walk-in closet. Thirty days of me trying to convince myself that Isaac’s confession was just some elaborate, twisted joke to ruin my head before the scouts' showcase.

"You're late," I muttered. "Dinner at the cafeteria ends in ten minutes."

"Missed me that much, White?"

Isaac’s voice was closer than I expected. I whipped around to snap back, but his top naked half immediately fazed me. A month of this, and I still wasn't used to it. He was already peeling off his jersey, his skin slick with sweat from the extra ice time, the lamplight catching the hard, annoying lines of his back.

Ever since he told me he was chasing me, every time he took his shirt off, he felt like a deliberate attack on my sanity.

"I don’t care if you work out until you drop. Just don't get sweat on my rug."

"Our rug," he corrected . "And don't act like you aren't impressed. I saw you watching my drills today."

"I was scouting the competition," I lied, my heart doing that stupid, frantic kick against my ribs. "In case I have to carry you again during Saturday's game."

"Is that what we're calling it now? Carrying me?" Isaac let out a low chuckle.

"Just put a shirt on, Lim," I grumbled, slamming the playbook shut and flipping a page I hadn't even read. "It’s cold."

"I’m plenty warm," he murmured. "Are you though?"

------------------------------

Hours later, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. My ribs were aching sharply from a brutal, heavy check I’d taken in the third period of our scrimmage. The room was pitch black, but I could hear the rhythmic clicking of Isaac’s laptop across the gap.

"You’re going to go blind staring at that screen, Lim," I grunted, shifting onto my side. I immediately regretted it as my torso flared with pain. A sharp gasp escaped my throat before I could stop it.

"And you’re going to be out for the season if you keep taking hits like that, Jake," Isaac countered."You’re too fast to be that reckless."

"It’s hockey, Isaac. I’m not playing tag."

I heard him sigh, and the blue glow of his laptop screen vanished into total darkness. The silence that followed was heavy . Then, I heard the unmistakable rustle of his sheets as he sat up.

"You got hit hard today," he said, his footsteps quiet against the floorboards. "Because you were covering my blind side. Why?"

I tightened my grip on my blanket, my muscles locking up. "Because we’re co-captains, remember? We're a team. Coach Miller said—"

"Forget what Miller said," Isaac interrupted.

The mattress dipped significantly as he sat right on the edge of my bed.

"You haven't looked me in the eye since that night," Isaac said, his voice a low, commanding whisper in the dark. "You told me to stay on my side of the room. A month of truces and tactics, Jake, but you’re still fighting me."

"I'm not fighting you," I whispered. The lie felt incredibly thin, completely dissolving in the space between us.

"Then stop acting like you hate it when I'm the only one who has your back out there." Isaac reached into his nightstand, a faint scent of mint and medicine cutting through the air. "Now lie still. Let me apply this ointment on your ribs."

I held my breath as Isaac’s hand closed the distance. His fingers were cool from the cream, but the second they pressed against my bare side,shivers ran down my spine. I should have flinched. I should have shoved him away and yelled at him to get back to his bed.

"You’re shaking, Jake," Isaac murmured. His fingers smoothed the ointment over the bruise, his thumb brushing against my skin in slow, deliberate circles that made every single hair on my arms stand up. He leaned down slightly, his face inches from mine. "Still disgusted?"

"Shut up," I breathed, my voice cracking entirely.

I looked up at him, my eyes finally adjusting to the dark.The lean muscles of his shoulder framed him against the shadows. The scent of his shower soap filled my head.

"I’m just... tired, Lim. My body hurts."

"I know," he said softly. He didn't pull his hand away. If anything, he leaned in closer, his weight shifting the mattress so that I naturally rolled slightly towards him. "I saw the hit. You took it for me."

"I took it for the team," I corrected, desperately trying to cling to the rivalry.

Isaac’s hand slid up from my ribs, his palm trailing pure fire over my skin until his fingers curled firmly around my bicep. The touch was possessive.

"Liars don't make good captains, White," he whispered into the dark, his breath brushing my cheek. "And they eventually get caught."

The room fell completely quiet after that, the dark working hand in hand with the absolute limbo nesting in my brain.