Chapter 10: CHAPTER 10.
Jax POV
"If you stare at that phone any harder, you’re going to set it on fire."
I looked up from my screen to see Fin sliding into the booth across from me. He was carrying two massive breakfast burritos and a coffee that looked more like a milkshake.
"I'm not staring at it," I lied, shoving the phone into my pocket.
"Sure. And I'm the next starting center for the Rangers," Fin grinned, unwrapping his burrito. "Seriously, Jax. You look like you’ve been living in a blender. How’s the high-society life? Did the Thorne family buy you a monocle yet?"
I couldn't help but snort. "Hardly. It’s more like living with a very expensive, very depressed robot. The guy doesn't even eat cereal. He eats... I don't know, nutrient-infused gravel or something."
Fin laughed, a loud, genuine sound that actually made me feel human for a second. "Hey, at least he’s pretty to look at. If I had to be stuck in a suite with a legacy kid, I’d want it to be the one who looks like he was sculpted by a Greek god with a grudge."
"He’s a nightmare, Fin. We went on this mountain trip, and I’m pretty sure he tried to out-discipline the actual weather." I picked at my own food, trying to match his light tone. "But then there’s the board. And Riley. It’s like a circus, man. Everyone is just waiting for him to trip so they can catch him in a golden net."
"And you?" Fin asked, his voice softening just enough to be annoying. "Are you waiting for him to trip, or are you the one who’s going to trip him?"
"I’m just trying to play hockey," I said, though it felt like a lie even as I said it.
"Well, try not to get caught in the net with him," Fin said, pointing a fry at me. "I don't have enough bail money for both of you."
The atmosphere in the Northwood arena was different that afternoon. It wasn't just a practice; it was the official scrimmage. The stands weren't full, but the people who were there mattered. I could see the scouts in their dark jackets, clipboards in hand, looking like vultures on a fence.
Arthur Thorne was there, too. He was sitting in the center row, arms crossed, looking down at the ice like he owned every molecule of oxygen in the building.
I looked over at Julian during warm-ups. He was off. His edges weren't as crisp as they usually were, and his face was a pale, sickly color. Every time he glanced toward the stands, his shoulders hitched. He was drowning in the pressure of that last name.
When the puck dropped, it got worse. Julian missed a routine cross-ice pass. Then, he got caught flat-footed on a transition, letting a sophomore winger blow right past him. I saw the scouts whispering. I saw Arthur lean forward, his face hardening.
Shit, I thought. If Julian blew this scrimmage, the Board would have all the ammunition they needed to start breathing down his neck about "distractions."
I stopped playing for myself.
For the next two periods, I played like I had four lungs. I stayed deep, covering Julian’s side of the ice. When he missed a gap, I was there to plug it. When he hesitated on a pinch, I surged forward to take the hit for him. I was playing out of position, working twice as hard to make it look like our defensive pairing was a seamless unit, even though I was basically dragging his weight across the blue line.
I took a heavy slash to the ribs to clear a puck Julian should have handled. I didn't care. I just kept my eyes on the scouts, making sure they saw a "Thorne-led" defense that was impenetrable.
By the time the final whistle blew, I was gasping for air, my side throbbing. Julian didn't look at me. He headed straight for the tunnel, his head down.
The locker room was a mess of steam and adrenaline.
"Damn, Miller! You were like a heat-seeking missile out there!" Beau shouted, slapping me on the back. "What’d you eat for breakfast? Lightning?"
I didn't get a chance to answer. Julian appeared from the back of the room, his eyes fixed on me with a terrifying, dark intensity.
"Miller. Equipment room. Now," he barked.
The room went "Ooooohhh," and Liam chuckled. "Looks like someone’s about to get chewed out for showboating. Good luck, Rookie. Try not to cry."
I followed Julian out of the main room and into the narrow, dark hallway that led to the gear storage. He slammed the heavy steel door behind us, the sound echoing like a gunshot. The room was cramped, smelling of stale sweat, leather, and wax.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Julian roared. He didn't even wait for the door to finish vibrating. He stepped into my space, his chest heaving. "Do you think I need your charity? Do you think I need some system-kid from Detroit covering my mistakes?"
"I was helping you, Julian! You were playing like shit!" I yelled back, the adrenaline from the game still surging through my veins. "Your coordination was off, you were missing your gaps, and you let a sophomore beat you on the outside twice in the first ten minutes. You were a disaster out there!"
"I am a Thorne!" he hissed, his face inches from mine. "I don't need protection. I don't need a partner who treats me like a liability. You had no right to play my position. You made me look weak!"
"I made you look competent!" I stepped closer, my chest hitting his. "The scouts were watching. Your dad was watching. If I hadn't covered for you, they would’ve spent the whole night talking about how the Ice King has finally melted. You should be thanking me, you arrogant prick!"
"I don't owe you anything!" Julian grabbed the front of my jersey, his knuckles digging into my chest. "Stay in your lane, Miller. Stay away from my side of the ice, and stay away from my life."
"You’re a liar," I said, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. "You’re so scared of being anything less than perfect that you’re willing to fail just to prove you’re in control. You want me to stay away? Then stop looking at me like I’m the only thing keeping you from falling apart."
The silence that followed was heavy, the air in the small room feeling like it was about to ignite. Julian’s eyes dropped to my mouth, then back to my eyes.
Then, he snapped.
He didn't lean in; he lunged. His mouth crashed against mine with a violence that made my teeth ache. It wasn't a kiss, it was a battle. He shoved me back against a rack of jerseys, the metal groaning under our weight.
I didn't even have time to be surprised before I was kissing him back, my hands finding his waist and pulling him hard against me. He let out a desperate, guttural sound, his tongue sliding against mine as he began to grind his hips into me.
The friction was electric. Through the layers of our practice gear, I could feel every line of his body. He was hard, desperate, and completely out of control. I gripped the back of his neck, my fingers tangling in his damp hair as I hiked him up, trying to get him closer. He was whimpering into the kiss now, his hands frantically roaming over my chest and shoulders.
I slid my hand down, cupping him through his pants, and he nearly buckled. He was grinding against my hand, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. I felt like I was losing my mind, the way he was practically begging me to take the lead, to be the one to hold him together while he fell apart. It was fierce, it was messy, and it was the most real thing I’d ever felt in this godforsaken school.
We went at it for what felt like hours, our bodies tangled in the dark, the scent of him filling my lungs. I reached for the hem of his shirt, wanting more, wanting skin…
Suddenly, Julian ripped himself away.
He stumbled back, his face a mask of horror. His lips were swollen, his hair was a disaster, and his eyes were wide with a panic that hit me like cold water.
"Stay away from me," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Don't... don't you ever touch me again."
"Julian…"
"I mean it, Jax!" he shouted, his voice cracking. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at me like I was a monster he’d accidentally invited in. "Stay away from me."
He turned and bolted out of the room, the door swinging shut behind him.
I stood there alone in the dark, my heart hammering, my skin still on fire from where he’d been pressed against me. I looked at my hands, which were still shaking.
The Ice King hadn't just melted. He’d exploded. And as I stood there in the ringing silence, I realized that the war between us had just become a lot more dangerous.