Chapter 3 Dream on, O'Shea

Kendra

“You’ve disrespected me and the entire team. That’s six laps around the rink at practice for a month.” O’Shea poked Simon's chest when he made a sound of protest. “I know you think that you’re hot shit, Warrington. Give me one more reason to make it two months.”

Hot sparks flew as both men exchanged scowls, and for a moment I thought I’d walked in on a longtime fight.

At last, Simon charged out of the room, not bothering to shut the door.

I turned to Noah. His stormy blue eyes dragged over my coveralls, prickling my skin.

“Drake,” he squinted at my tag. “You really have poor survival skills.”

The hair on my nape rose at his audacity. It was exactly what Dad would have said.

“All student athletes must vacate the premises at the appropriate hour.” I numbly quoted the manual. “So, y-you need to leave too… hockey boy.”

Noah scoffed at my outburst, heading for a locker. “You’re welcome.”

Instead of turning around, I stood there like a moth to a flame. His hockey species had wrecked my world, but my traitorous eyes traveled down his back muscles, solid and glistening with water beads.

“…Need the room.”

My brain failed to register what he was saying.

Noah reached for the knot.

I swallowed a gulp.

He casually dropped the towel on a bench.

I gasped and staggered back before rushing out the door.

The wall met my back in an icy impact, yet my cheeks flared hot in response to the flash of skin that lay below his waist.

“Whoa,” I wheezed, removing my mask.

An agonizing moment later, Noah came out, fully dressed. Surprise plastered across his face when he saw me. I stifled a groan as my fingers brushed my bare face, realizing I'd never put my gear back on.

“All yours," he said gruffly and strolled down the corridor with a neat swagger, leaving a faint trail of mint soap.

Sweet. Manly.

My heart stalled for a second, then sped into a tempestuous rhythm that settled low in my belly with warmth. I closed my eyes, and it didn't help.

What is Noah O'Shea doing to me?

And more importantly, how do I get the image of his tight ass out of my head?

I had to admit, he must have read my filthy mind, because Templeton’s golden boy seemed to have a strange obsession for the dark.

For three dreadful nights following the incident, I’d sneaked into the locker room, still nervously looking over my shoulder for any sign of him.

I flipped on the light switch.

A screech tore from my lips, loud enough to wake the dead.

For the past two nights, Noah O'Shea had repeatedly nodded at me before walking out, leaving me to pick the scraps of my brain cells. But tonight, his scowl finally broke into a bright smile after my scream died away.

“You’re a menace!” I cried, clutching my pounding chest as I leaned against the door.

Noah gave a small laugh, shoulders shaking. “I know,” he admitted easily. “But the way you scream is straight out of a cartoon!”

My stomach lurched with annoyance as he continued snickering breathlessly.

One would think he was five instead of twenty-one.

Not that I researched him.

I swear I can hear Simon's voice ringing in my head, talking about how Noah's dad was a hockey legend for the Arctics and his mom, an Olympic figure skater. “Noah’s the walking product of the ultimate ice pörn, Kenny. Don't you just want to fap to that?”

I wrinkled my nose at the analogy. Only my ex could turn something beautiful into trash.

Meanwhile, the incredibly attractive giant sitting across the room wiggled his fingers at me, snapping me away from my thoughts.

“Seriously,” I squeaked. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He stood, arms folded. “Trying to talk to you,” he replied, searching my face. “Can you breathe under that thing? It doesn’t stink that bad here.”

I grabbed a brush and cleaning solution from the cart. “Trust me, it really does.”

As I turned around, Noah had gotten close. So close that his imposing height made my knees turn to butter. I managed to put a little distance between us while my hormones flared up in protest.

“Are you going to file a report against Warrington or not?” Noah asked.

A shudder passed through my skin, and I grazed my wrist. “No.”

He thrust his fingers through his hair. “Why not?”

I glared at him, flushing with disappointment. Of course, the Gladiators would try to cover each other’s backs. I can't believe I fell for his hero act.

“Because it’s none of your business.” I pointed to the door. “Now get out of here.”

The air charged up with a challenge.

Noah broke it by raising a calming hand. “Take it easy, Drake,” he said. “The Warringtons are shareholders with the college; I know because he never shut up about it during practice.”

The irony wasn't lost on me. I'd been on the receiving end of Simon's constant yapping too. His family's multinational corporations could buy the entire university.

I thought about talking to Warden about Simon over and over again; I can already see her handing over my pink slip before the case gets buried forever.

I moved past Noah's expectant face to the shower room.

Ten minutes of scrubbing and rinsing down the place, my chest threatened to burst into flames as I walked out.

“What’s your name?”

I flinched at the sudden break in the silence.

Noah was still in the locker room, sprawled back on a bench with his head resting on his gym bag.

“Don’t you have classes in a few hours?” I asked, eyeing the glowing 2:03 AM on the wall clock as I grabbed a sanitizer from the cart.

“This is an adult conversation. I asked first.”

I pressed my lips together before answering. “Kendra.”

“I’m Noah.”

“Whatever.”

“You’re so uptight.”

“And you’re a bored rich boy who’s so perfect you’re stalking the help for a bit of normalcy because you’re afraid people will see you differently.”

A deep chuckle rang out. “Scratch that. Intuitive,” he murmured. “And probably a social psychology major.”

His casual guessing cut me deeper than a knife; I just focused on spraying a locker with the sanitizer.

“What’s that look?”

I shot him a dry smile. “I’m not in college.”

He raised a brow. “Well, a degree is just expensive paper. Skills make the man.” His mouth twitched. “Or the prickly small person.”

I caught myself snorting at his easygoing demeanor before gliding to the hockey memorabilia in the corner, where ageless trophies and photos were lined up.

“And what skills do you have besides this one?”

He didn't respond.

I forced my concentration on the current roster photo and flicked Simon’s stupid face.

Footsteps squeaked behind me softly. My shoulders hunched as Noah's body heat wrapped around me. His breath feathered my ear. “You’ll have to date me to find out.”

I set my jaw. Noah was many things and, to my disappointment, still a guy.

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