Chapter 111 111: Green Vine Rival
"This way, please," a man led Saint and Baby through a narrow hallway with bright lights.
They were in Green Vine Academy. A consortium that was known to rival THC for years, and they also happened to be the team they were going to be matching against on championship day, which was just a few more months to come.
They were there for a friendly match, well... that's the term used when both teams want to spy on each other's tactics.
They wouldn't be playing alone, a few members from THC were already there, waiting for them.
Saint and Baby weren't worried about the 'friendly' match. They were worried about how to stay away from each other, there was an invisible rope pulling them together even as they tried to act professional.
In the past, even before their mini-breakup, they could pull the professional act off, but after their intense make-up last night, staying away was like a world-class suicide mission.
Saint increased his steps behind Baby, watching the man in front of them to make sure he wasn't looking.
"Oh!" Baby suddenly tripped over something and lost his footing and almost fell if not for his knight in shining armor who caught him so readily.
Saint had deliberately tripped Baby.
"Saint?" Baby gasped as Saint kissed the back of his neck, his pulse jumping the moment their guide turned to check what was going on.
"Are you alright, Mr. Danvers?" the man asked.
Baby straightened, subtly slapping Saint's hand away behind him. "It's nothing. I guess I'll have to be extra careful... the floor's really slippery," he said, clearing his throat.
"Apologies, Mr. Danvers," the man apologized and resumed walking, not suspecting a thing.
"Behave," Baby mouthed as he glared at Saint.
"I'll try, Danvers," Saint said loudly, sounding calm and confident.
"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing ahead as Baby came to take him.
"Sure, Mr. Kross," Baby muttered.
The man led them down a flight of stairs, stopping in front of a glass door.
"This is the locker room. Most of the guys are already in the arena. Your jerseys are placed individually in the first and second lockers," he explained.
"Thank you, sir," Baby said, sliding the door open and walking in first.
"No one's here," Saint murmured as he walked into the quiet locker room.
He was reaching for Baby, but Baby quickly grabbed his jersey and stepped back.
"There might be cameras," he whispered.
Saint shook his head. "Nah, you know the code, no cameras in locker rooms. Applies everywhere," he said.
Baby sighed. "Still, it's not safe, someone can walk in. I'll change in the bathroom... my body isn't quite... presentable for audiences," he murmured, backing away toward the bathroom.
Saint groaned and grabbed his jersey. He needed to get a hold of himself. If not, he would ruin what they had just rebuilt by exposing them untimely.
Inside the bathroom, Baby hurried to dress up, folding his normal clothes and picking up his helmet.
He was glad the jersey covered him up. The press would have eaten up the obvious marks on his skin. And it would be so easy to put two and two together.
They were already suspicious of him and Saint, and if they learned that they shared the same roof last night, the puzzle would finally click into place.
He double-checked for the last time and walked back to the locker room.
However, what Baby saw almost had his heart violently tearing through his chest.
Against a locker leaned Saint, and in front of Saint stood some ginger dude with his filthy hands touching Saint's chin.
He stood at the bathroom door, unable to go further.
Maybe he wanted to see what happens between Saint and the other guy.
"Ah, it was nothing, my bad. Thought I saw a speck," the ginger dude smiled, reluctantly taking his hand away from Saint.
"Thanks, Roman. It was really nice seeing you again, but I really gotta run." Saint made to leave, but Roman hooked an arm around his, smiling up at him.
"You're really going to dismiss me like that? We were each other's first kiss. I haven't gotten over it," Roman whispered.
Saint was about to speak when he heard Baby's footsteps approaching.
He stilled, eyes slightly widening in panic.
"We gotta move, Kross," Baby said, walking past them to place his normal clothes in his assigned locker.
Saint managed to pull his hand away from Roman, clearing his throat.
"I really have to go, Roman. You should, too—"
"Don't worry about Danvers. My coach benched me. I might be on the rival team, but you know I'm always cheering for you, Saint," Roman said softly and turned away.
"Hello, Danvers," Roman calmly walked past Baby without looking at him.
"Baby—"
"Game first, Saint. Save the talk for tonight, we don't have the time," Baby said, gesturing toward the door.
Saint sighed, looking like a kid caught stealing candy. "I promise you it's nothing—"
"One foot in front of the other, we need to leave, now," Baby said, rolling his eyes and heading toward the door.
Saint swallowed, hoping this wasn't them sinking back to nothingness after just having found each other again.
The door to the arena hallway slid open with a soft hiss.
Cold air rushed over them instantly—the familiar sharp bite of ice, metal, and adrenaline. The distant roar of skates slicing across the rink echoed through the corridor along with the hollow thud of pucks against boards.
Saint followed a step behind Baby, watching the set of his shoulders carefully.
Baby didn't look back.
'Yeah,' Saint thought grimly. 'He's pissed.'
They stepped out into the arena entrance where the rest of the THC team had gathered near the rink gate.
"Finally!" one of their teammates called. "Thought you two got lost."
"Or kidnapped," another joked.
"Welcome to the team," the first teammate said.
Baby slipped his helmet on without a word and began tightening the straps of his gloves.
Saint waited for the cold shoulder. A sharp comment. Maybe even silence.
Instead, Baby simply skated out onto the ice.
Saint blinked.
Then pushed off after him.
The moment Baby's blades hit the rink, something changed.
It always did.
The tension in his body melted into pure precision. Every movement became fluid—controlled, graceful, deadly accurate. He glided across the ice like he belonged there more than anywhere else in the world.
Saint watched him circle the rink once, then twice.
Okay... that's new.
Usually when Baby was annoyed, it showed in his playing.
Not today.
Baby received a pass from one of their teammates and flicked the puck forward with effortless control, weaving past two defenders from Green Vine Academy before sending a clean shot straight into the net.
The puck hit the mesh with a sharp snap.
Someone whistled.
"Damn, Danvers!"
Saint pushed forward, intercepting the puck on the next play. He shot Baby a look across the rink.
Baby met his gaze for a split second.
Then—almost imperceptibly—he smirked.
Saint felt something in his chest loosen.
'He's not mad.'
The scrimmage continued, fast and aggressive despite the "friendly" label.
Saint and Baby moved like magnets.
Pass. Return. Cut. Score.
Again.
And again.
By the third play even the opposing team started noticing.
"Are they reading each other's minds or something?" someone muttered from the bench.
Another goal slammed into the net.
Saint didn't even have to look to know where Baby would be. Baby didn't even have to call for the puck.
They simply moved.
Like they'd always done.
Like last night had stitched something back together that had been torn for weeks.
On the sidelines, a few sports reporters who'd been invited to watch the scrimmage were already whispering among themselves.
One of them scribbled something into a tablet.
Later that afternoon, the headline would read:
THC's SAINT KROSS & BABY DANVERS RETURN AS THE MOST IN-TUNE DUO ON THE ICE
Saint didn't know about the headline yet.
All he knew was the rush of the game and the quiet relief every time Baby passed the puck right back to him without hesitation.
Still—
Every now and then his eyes drifted to Baby.
And guilt twisted in his chest.
Roman.
The words Roman had whispered replayed in his head.
We were each other's first kiss.
Saint clenched his jaw as he skated back to position.
He needed to tell Baby.
Everything.
Before someone else did.
Because the last thing he wanted—after finally getting Baby back—was another secret standing between them.