Chapter SIX Noah

My heart's a jackhammer in my chest as I stare at the rugged cabin nestled between towering pines, its cozy amber lights winking through the dusk. The retreat is finally here, the one weekend where the entire hockey team shacks up in the wilderness to bond and blow off steam. But it's not the promise of beers by the bonfire or late-night poker that's got my pulse racing—it's Lexi. God, just thinking about her sends a jolt of electricity through my veins.

"Move it, Captain!" Dean yells from behind, snapping me out of my reverie. I grab my duffle bag with a grin and make my way to the cabin, the crunch of snow and gravel underfoot syncing with the beat of my anticipation. This isn't just any retreat; it's the perfect chance to spend some real time with Lexi away from the rink, the gym, and the endless grind of classes.

We pour into the cabin like a flood, laughter and chatter echoing off the log walls. Someone cranks up the tunes, and the place comes alive with the kind of energy only a bunch of college athletes can muster. Dean wastes no time challenging half the guys to a game of foosball, his competitive streak a blazing fire even off the ice.

"First round's on the losers!" he hollers, and the room erupts in cheers and trash talk.

I dodge a flying ping-pong ball—it looks like Wes has already started an epic table tennis tournament—and find myself grinning. This is our world, a brotherhood forged on sweat and steel blades. And yet, amidst the shouts and high-fives, there's a corner of my mind that's solely reserved for Lexi.

I glance around, searching for a glimpse of sandy blonde hair tied back in a practical ponytail, or those eyes that seem to see right through me. She's here somewhere, I'm sure of it, and the thought alone fuels my eagerness to join in on the festivities.

"Hey, Bishop, you in?" Wes calls out, waving a paddle. "Or are you too scared to face my wicked backhand?"

"I'd be more worried about your forehand if it actually hit the table," I shoot back, accepting the challenge with a smirk. I wonder, though, about his shoulder. There’s no sign of Wes being in pain—but he’s good at hiding it.

As the night wears on, the air thick with warmth from the crackling fireplace, I find my gaze wandering back to Lexi. Each time our eyes meet, there's a flicker of something unspoken, a shared secret that neither of us has voiced. Her laughter rings out, genuine and untamed, and it's like a siren song, pulling me into her orbit without fail.

I catch another glance, a silent conversation in a room full of noise. She looks away quickly, cheeks flushed from the heat or maybe from the rush of whatever this is between us. I can't help but smile, knowing the feeling all too well. There's an undeniable energy in these stolen moments, a teasing promise of what's to come. This isn't just about hockey anymore—as the evening unfolds, I'm already strategizing my next move, because when it comes to Lexi Turner, I'm determined to win more than just a game. The bass of a familiar ballad vibrates through the wooden floorboards as someone commandeers the playlist, shifting the cabin's energy from raucous to reflective. I feel my pulse sync with the rhythm—a slow, deliberate thud that echoes my rising nerves.

"Looks like the universe is throwing me a sign," I say, sidling up next to her where she stands at the sliding glass doors that lead to the back deck, my voice barely audible over the music. Lexi turns, her gaze meeting mine, and I see a question in them, one that mirrors my own hesitation.

"Or maybe it's just a playlist," she counters, but there's a playful tilt to her lips that tells me she's game for whatever I'm suggesting.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and close the distance between us. "Dance with me, Lexi?" The words come out more like a hopeful whisper than the confident invitation I intended.

For a heart-stopping moment, she doesn't move, and I brace myself for rejection. But then, surprise flickers across her face, softening into something warmer. She sets down her drink, her hand reaching out to mine. Her touch is steady, grounding, as if she's the one comforting me instead of the other way around.

"Sure, Captain," she says, her tone teasing, but there's a gentleness in the way she lets me lead her to the center of the room—a clearing made by teammates who've brought their own romantic partners on the party weekend. The room seems paused mid-conversation, the rest of the group’s attention drawn to the unexpected pair taking the floor. As we step into the crowd's makeshift circle, I'm acutely aware of every point where our bodies are close but not touching. The hand resting lightly on her waist, her fingers curled around mine—each point of contact is like a live wire, sending a jolt straight to my core.

"Didn't take you for the dancing type," Lexi murmurs, a hint of curiosity in her gaze as she falls into step with me.

"Full of surprises," I shoot back with a grin, hoping it masks the thunderous beating of my heart. It's just a dance, I tell myself. One song in a retreat meant to build team spirit. Except, as we sway gently to the music, it feels like anything but 'just a dance.’

The world shrinks to the size of this room, to the space we occupy. A soft melody wraps around us, a gentle caress as intoxicating as a fine wine, and Lexi and I fall into a rhythm that feels as natural as breathing. Our bodies move in perfect harmony, swaying to the subtle ebb and flow of the music, our feet finding their places in an unspoken agreement.

Her gaze holds mine, green eyes bright with an emotion I can't quite name but am desperate to explore. It's as if the very air between us is charged, every other soul in this cabin retreat fading into nothingness. We're alone in the midst of laughter and chatter, two people moving as one in a dance that's less about steps and more about the silent conversation we're having with our eyes.

"Didn't peg you for someone who could actually keep up," Lexi teases, her voice barely above the whisper of violins in the background. Her tone is light, but there's a touch of sincerity there that tells me she's pleasantly surprised—not just by my dancing skills but by the ease between us.

"Guess you don't know everything about me, Turner," I retort playfully, but the truth is, I'm just as shocked at how right this feels. The way her body fits against mine, it's like finding a missing piece I didn't even know I was looking for.

A shiver runs through Lexi as my hand shifts slightly on the small of her back, fingers splayed over the fabric of her shirt. It's tentative, respectful, but undeniably possessive—a declaration without words that she's the only one I want to be holding right now. And when she leans into the touch, it's like confirmation that she doesn't mind being claimed. Heat blossoms in my chest, spreading warmth throughout my limbs. This feeling, having Lexi close, her body pressed to mine as we move to the music—it's something unfamiliar, yet overwhelmingly comforting. She's strong in my arms, her athletic build a testament to her passion for sports, yet there's a softness to her that contradicts the steel I've seen her wield against doubters and naysayers.

"Comfortable?" I ask, but the question sounds foolish even to my ears. How could she not be? I feel like I've been made to hold her, the contours of her body aligning with mine in a way that feels predestined.

"Surprisingly so," she admits, and the corner of her mouth quirks up in a smile that's reserved just for moments like this—genuine, unguarded, shared between just the two of us.

As we continue to dance, I realize this isn't just a momentary reprieve from the chaos of college life or the intense pressure of leading a hockey team to victory. This is a revelation—a realization that Lexi Turner isn't just a challenge to be met or a teammate to be respected. She's quickly becoming the highlight of every day, the reason my heart races with anticipation at the thought of what's to come.

I lean in closer to Lexi, the rhythm of the song setting a gentle pace for our bodies and our confessions. "When I was seven," I whisper against her ear, my breath mingling with the strands of her hair, "I used to dream about flying—not just on the ice, but literally soaring above it all."

She giggles softly, her breath warm on my neck. "Superhero complex much?"

"More like a superhuman wish," I counter, feeling the vibration of her laughter through our close contact. "Your turn. Any childhood dreams you're willing to share with me?"

"Okay," she murmurs, her voice a delicate hush, drawing me in more than any loud declaration could. "I wanted to be an astronaut—had this crazy fascination with the stars. And, well, you know, defying gravity."

"Defying gravity, huh?" I tease back, thinking how fitting it is for her, pushing limits on and off the ice.

"Absolutely," Lexi confirms, and there's a twinkle in her eye that tells me she's not just playing along; she means every word.

It's as if the rest of the retreat fades away, the noise and clamor of our teammates becoming a distant hum. The fairy lights strung across the wooden beams of the cabin ceiling cast a soft, ethereal glow around us, making Lexi's face seem even more captivating. Her eyes sparkle, reflecting the twinkling lights, and her smile—wide and unguarded—sends a jolt straight through me.

The song's final notes linger in the air, the melody winding down, signaling the end of our dance. But neither of us moves to break away. Our bodies remain close, the distance between our hearts nonexistent. I lower my forehead to rest against hers, and we breathe in unison, our gazes locked.

"Lexi," I start, the urgency in my voice betraying the surge of emotions I'm struggling to contain.

"Noah," she whispers back, the tone reflecting a world of possibilities.

In that prolonged moment, everything fades—the sounds of the cabin retreat, the shuffle of feet, the distant laughter. It's just Lexi and me, holding onto each other like we're the only two people left on earth, our hearts beating in harmony. The magic of the night wraps around us, tender and full of promise.

Then, ever so slowly, we begin to part, but the spell doesn't break. It lingers, tangible in the space between us, and I know that this dance—this moment—will replay in my mind long after the music has stopped. Stepping back into the whirlwind of the retreat, the heat of Lexi's palm lingers on my skin like a brand. Her laughter, mingled with those of our teammates, rings through the cabin, but it's as if I'm hearing everything from underwater. The memory of her in my arms is a vivid imprint in my mind, a reminder that something shifted between us tonight—a seismic shift that could change the very foundation of our dynamic.

I watch her meld back into the group seamlessly, her hair catching the light as she tilts her head back to laugh. There's an ease to her movements, a confidence that speaks volumes about who she is: Alexis Turner, a force to be reckoned with. But for those few minutes when we danced, she let me see past that.

My heart thrums with a cocktail of adrenaline and hope, the way it does before the final buzzer of a tied game. It's exhilarating, this feeling of being on the cusp of something monumental. As I lean against the wall, sipping a drink I don't remember grabbing, I can't tear my eyes away from her. She's unaware of the intensity of my stare, of how every quip that falls from her lips seems to be just for me, even when it's not.

"Hey there, Captain," Wes, my ever-observant winger, nudges me with his elbow, a knowing smirk on his face. "Looks like you left something out there on the dance floor."

"Maybe I did," I reply, unable to suppress the grin that tugs at my lips. The possibilities ahead seem infinite, and I'm ready to chase them down.

"What happened, did she bolt?" Wes teases with a raised eyebrow. "After that dance, I thought you'd be joined at the hip."

I shrug, feeling my cheeks heat just a little. What is it that I hear in Wes’s voice? There’s an edge that I can’t identify. "It's not like that. It was just a dance."

"Sure, sure," he chuckles, clapping me on the shoulder a little too hard before he heads off to challenge someone to a game of darts.

I look over at Lexi. Despite the cold Minnesota air, something warm and undeniable has taken root between us, and I’m ready to tend to it, to see just how far it can grow. But is there something else that could stand in the way—and what does Wes have against my interest in the pretty new intern?