Chapter 5 WESTON

“Well that was weird,” Maddie said over the noise in my head, “What’s your roommate’s problem?”

She crossed over to my side of the room and flopped on the bed, pulling out her phone.

For some reason, I couldn’t stop staring at the door, remembering the look on Elliot’s face right before he stormed out.

What was his problem?

“Weston,” Maddie called again, dragging me out of my reverie. When I turned to her, she was frowning slightly. “Are you gonna come here or not?”

She was spread out on my bed, gorgeous against the pale blue sheets, and any other day, I’d have gone in for seconds. Things were easy with Maddie, this thing between us was just sex.

She had her flings, and I had mine.

It was an understanding.

So why was Cross so bothered? And why did I care that he cared?

“I can’t,” I sighed, “I have to hit the gym. The championships are coming up, and I need to be in top form."

She pouted. “You’re always going at it for this sport. You know you don’t need to play hockey to stay in school, right?”

“I know.” I crossed to my wardrobe and began pulling out clothes.

“I thought you’d be over it after high school,” she was still saying, “But you’re so dead set on impressing your Daddy still. It’s getting boring, Weston.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not doing this for you, then.” I forced out, already irritated.

She huffed, blinking twice. “So you’re just going to leave me alone in your room? What if your roommate comes back and ravages me?”

I snorted. “I don’t think Elliot's going to ravage anybody, anything soon.”

“Don’t be so sure,” she flopped over, baring the smooth pale skin of her ass. “He’s still a man, and I’m a young, defenceless maiden...or am I not his type?”

“Quit it,” I snapped, suddenly angry, “He’s just a kid.”

Her eyes narrowed at me, but she said nothing. I pointedly ignored her, and after a while she returned to her phone.

I dressed up in relative silence, and stood in front of her once I was done.

“I’m leaving.” I said.

She glanced up from beneath long lashes. “Will I see you later? Or are you too busy with hockey?”

“You might not. “ I swung my gym bag over my shoulder, “Lock the door when you leave.”

And then I left without another word, taking the steps two at a time to the basement gym. It was usually empty at this time, with most athletes getting dinner, or drunk, or both.

I pushed the glass doors open and found myself staring at none other than Elliot Cross.

He was unmistakable, I'd recognize that lean, compact stature even blindfolded. He was on a treadmill, legs lean and pale as he walked on the lowest setting, staring straight at the wall.

He was still wearing that compression shirt from earlier, and I let myself take in the grooves and dips of his muscles, he was slender, but with a body perfectly honed over time.

He might not be as big as I was, but he was definitely a hockey player, smaller than most, but salvageable.

I’d never say that to his face though.

My shoes squeaked on the tile as I walked in, and he swung his head around, those green eyes a shock everytime. They were just so sharp, and bright.

“Are you following me?” He snarled.

I rolled my eyes and looked away. “You flatter yourself, Albuquerque.”

“I’m from Arizona.” He hissed.

I fought the urge to smirk and crossed to a bench press. “I really don’t give a fuck.”

“Is your girlfriend out of the room?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh right, yeah. I forgot,” he snorted. “She can’t be your girlfriend, since you’re apparently fucking half the student demographic.”

I froze, gaze cutting sharply to him. “Done your research I see? Are you that obsessed with me?”

He scoffed, but his cheeks flushed bright, and I was reminded of that night in that party, watching him squirm against that desk. “You flatter yourself, Pierce. Your reputation precedes you.”

I sighed, pushing to my feet. “Is there a reason you’re trying to rile me up, kid?” I stalked closer, watching as his nose flared stubbornly. “What, you think if you anger me enough I’ll slam you to the floor and fuck you again?”

His flush deepened, staining his pale skin red, but he cocked his chin, always a stubborn little shit. “I’m surprised you can finally acknowledge it out loud. Just yesterday, you were going to murder me for even thinking about it.

“Or what?” he huffed, “Is it because there’s no one around? Or is it because you’ve just fucked some chick, you’re feeling more secure about yourself yeah?”

There was that glint in his eye again, the one I saw before he’d launched at me on the ice like a bat from hell. He was spoiling for a fight.

My hands twitched at my sides, I was spoiling to give it to him. “You don’t know when to quit, do you, kid?”

He faltered a bit, stepping back. “I’m not a kid.”

“And I’m not doing this.” I pointed at the space between us. “Whatever this is, I’m not doing this. Get your kicks elsewhere.”

“You think you’re so fucking special.” He snapped, and then he turned around without another word, returning back to the treadmill and staring resolutely forward.

I stood there stunned for a minute, and then I returned to my bench press.

The air in the gym was thicker than usual, and I was actually aware of his every movement. I’d glance up and catch him looking at me, before promptly looking away.

At a point, I stopped counting my sets because I got distracted watching his ass in those shorts.

Which was just fucking ridiculous.

After half an hour of that bullshit, I slammed the weights down and stalked into the bathroom. I paced back and forth, trying to understand what the fuck my problem was.

This was my punishment, for choosing to experiment with a freshman. Should’ve just kept it in my pants and saved myself the trouble.

The bathroom door clicked softly with a lock, and I turned to find Elliot there.

He was looking at me with a look that was both heat and murder.

I stiffened. “This isn’t happening. Matter of fact, it shouldn’t ever have happened, and it’s never going to happen again.”

“Sure.” He shrugged, stepping closer. “If you say so.”

And then he sunk down to his knees, and hooked both thumbs in the waistband of my shorts, staring up at me with those sharp, green eyes.

“Fuck.”