Chapter 34 34: The Blue Cards
He knew it was sinful, but God... he was no fucking saint, that ass right there was calling to him, begging him to touch it, to squeeze it, to fucking spank it.
Just when Saint forced his eyes away from Baby's body, Baby bent over to pick up his shirt that fell from his hands, causing his ass to shoot out behind him, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.
"Fuck," Saint cursed silently and forcefully tore his eyes away from Baby.
He strode to his locker and yanked it open, taking out his items with a little more force than usual.
He didn't know which annoyed him more, his growing attraction toward a co-captain he was forbidden to want, or the cold, harsh reality that Baby was passively ignoring him.
He wanted to say something, to apologise for his harsh words last night, but he was scared; scared to see the real hatred brewing just beneath Baby's surface, waiting to be awakened.
Baby dressed quickly, acting as if he were the only one in the locker room. He shut his mind off from Saint's gazes, focusing on fixing one item after another.
Done, he was about to leave when the phone in his locker rang. Reluctantly, he opened it and answered the call.
"Missing me already, Candy?" He asked, smirking.
Suddenly, Saint banged his locker and left Mar he's oiyt of the locker room like he was walking out from a hot argument with someone.
Baby didn't even flinch, he carried in with his call like nothing happened.
Three minutes later...
The practice shifted to game simulation. Saint and Baby were inevitably placed on the same forward line—a trio of Baby, Saint, and Rode—a position requiring perfect, intuitive synchronization.
The puck was moving quickly. Cam fed it wide to Baby, who controlled it beautifully, driving hard past a defenseman. The opening was perfect: Baby threaded a precise, high-speed pass right onto Saint's stick near the crease. It was a guaranteed goal.
But Saint's stick never connected.
His mind was elsewhere, replaying the harsh sounds he'd heard filtering from the next room hours earlier. He saw Baby's body, stripped down in his mind, and then he saw Baby answering the phone, his voice dripping with easy affection for Candy.
Pain. The sharp, visceral arrow of jealousy hit his chest again, causing his vision to blur for a fraction of a second.
He looked down, shocked, as the puck slid harmlessly past his skate and off the boards.
Baby froze, dropping his head in instant, furious disbelief. That was a tap-in, an automatic goal.
The entire team sighed, but it was Cam who exploded. He skated directly into Saint's face, jamming his stick butt-end into the ice.
"What the hell, Saint?!" Cam yelled, his voice echoing off the glass. "That was clean! That was perfect! What is going on with you the whole morning? Put your shit together, Kross, or get the fuck off the ice! We can't afford a captain who's mentally checked out!"
Saint flinched, not at the volume, but at the truth of Cam's words. He was completely checked out.
Fweeeet! Nickel's whistle split the air, preventing Saint from responding.
"Alright, settle down, Cam! It's practice!" Nickel skated up quickly, staring hard at Saint. "Kross, next time, you put it in the net. Continue!"
As the team reset, Saint sighed, guilt churning in his gut. He knew his distraction—the sound, the sight of Baby's barely-covered body, the lingering scent of another woman—was the cause. He owed Baby more than a missed pass.
He skated slowly past Baby, their shoulders nearly brushing. Baby's back was rigid, his grip white-knuckled on his stick.
Saint knew he couldn't apologize for everything—not for the "broken toy" comment, and certainly not for his jealousy—but he needed to acknowledge the failure.
As he slid past, he lowered his voice to a soft, almost imperceptible whisper:
"Sorry."
Baby flinched, subtle and swift. That one word, delivered so gently, so devoid of Saint's usual bite, cracked the shield Baby had built. He had never heard Saint sound genuinely contrite before.
Baby didn't slow, didn't turn, didn't acknowledge the apology at all. He just drove his skates harder into the ice, pushing away from Saint, his mind whirling.
'What was he sorry for? The missed pass? Last night? Or calling me a broken toy?'
Baby squeezed his stick tight, trying to ignore the warmth that inexplicably bloomed in his chest—a dangerous, confusing warmth caused by the mean captain's unprecedented act of soft repentance.
___
"Hey, Captain. Are you really alright?" Wong suddenly fell in step with Saint as they walked toward the class.
Saint glanced at Wong, then continued walking without replying.
Wong walked faster to meet Saint, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Alright, man, chill. I need to ask you for a favour," he said, blocking Saint's path.
"I know you need me out of your hair so..." he pulled two blue cards out of his pocket and handed them to Saint.
"One's for you, and ones for baby. Thanks, I'm almost late for class," Wong tapped Saint's arm and hurried off in the opposite direction.
Saint frowned, staring down at the cards.
They were tickets to some pool party, and he could already smell trouble by only staring at the card.
The last party had been the root of his and Baby's problems and he feared what this one might bring.
He wanted to throw them in the bin, that way, Baby doesn't get drunk, and he, too won't be tempted to do anything crazy.
He walked over to the trash by the corner, his hand hovering above it indecisively.
"Damn it," He muttered and pushed the cards into his pocket.
If he didn't give the card to Baby, he'd face more hatred from Baby when he discovers what he had done.
He didn't want that. So, he would give the card to Baby as instructed, hoping that it would be an opening for them to speak.
Shannon was pointing out something from the projected images as Saint quietly slid to his seat behind the class.
Baby was already there, staring attentively at the board.
His heart had stupidly fastened the moment Saint walked into the class, causing him to grip his pen too tightly at the sudden awareness.
He hated it so much that Saint's deductions last night might be correct. From the way his body involuntarily warmed each time his rival appeared, it could only mean one thing: that he might truly be attracted to Saint. His enemy.
But, for once, he was going to take Saint's advice and kill that attraction. It was forbidden, it was wrong, and it was so unlike him.
He had just fucked a girl till sunrise, yet he still felt hollow, craving something he didn't dare put to thoughts.
"Baby," Saint's low voice called beside Baby, causing Baby to freeze instantly.
Saint had leaned in slightly so Baby could hear him speak, his nose taking in that scent that was uniquely Baby, his sweet shower gel, and that expensive cologne he always wore.
He didn't mean to, but he found himself leaning closer, the urge to bury his nose in the crook of Baby's neck and just sniff him in was stronger than his rationality.
The sound of Baby's pen dropping to the floor snapped Saint out of his possessive trance, his eyes staring at the window as Baby leaned down to grab his pen from the floor.
'What is wrong with me?!' Saint leaned back on his seat and clenched his jaw and stared blankly at the board while his thoughts ran wild.
Baby sighed in relief the moment Saint leaned away from his space.
He had purposely dropped his pen to have an excuse to move away from Saint's sudden space-invasion. He couldn't sit still and just let Saint sniff him like some dog, he might just have malfunctioned if that happened.
And why had Saint called his name? Did he not know how to read the room? Couldn't he tell he was being ignored?
Baby straightened, facing the board once more.
Again he saw Saint leaning close, but before he could react, Saint simply placed a blue card on his desk and whispered so lowly that he almost missed his words.
"From Wong," Saint murmured and pulled away, facing front.