4. Hunter

"Dude, you'll have no teeth left, what's your deal?" Colton skated alongside me as we cooled down.

I hadn't realized I was clenching my jaw so tight. Colton followed my gaze, laughing when he realized I was watching Mr. Australia gliding around the ice like a fucking figure skater.

"Threatened? Not like you."

He was right, but I'd never had a reason to be. I'd always been the most confident person in the room. Everyone knew me; I played with most of these guys through local teams and training camps. I was ready to dominate my senior year—be on the starting line, the hot topic in the locker room. I wanted to finish with a bang. Then this freshman from Australia swooped in and immediately captured everyone's attention. I hoped he'd be another average player, but even I had to admit that he was fantastic on the ice. He quickly stole the limelight from Colton—my high school teammate. We were supposed to be the stars, but we looked like rookies compared to Mr. Australia.

"He's just so..." I couldn't find the words to express how frustrated I felt. The guy was poised. He rolled with the punches. He showed up early, left late, and he even helped with the equipment—and he never complained. He didn't party, didn't drink, and he never showed up for the team meals. Yet, everyone loved him. He just had that charm about him. He took the time to get to know each member of the team—except for me. He looked at me and dismissed me like I was a waste of his time.

All I heard at gatherings was "Aussie this, and Aussie that." It was growing tiresome. On his first day, I saw a glimpse of vulnerability, and it made me want to crack his shell. Sure, maybe that look of vulnerability was because I was the one who knocked him to the ground. I'll admit, I was an asshole, but he caught me off guard with those crazy seafoam eyes. His reddish-brown hair warmed his complexion. He had beautiful, sun-kissed skin with a smattering of freckles over his nose. And that's why I ground my teeth. All it took was one look, and I was wrapped around his finger.

It was infuriating...

"Just so… What?" Colton chuckled, waiting for my answer. I couldn't say he was perfect, that would lead to another discussion I didn't care to have.

"Everyone just likes him, and he puts in no effort outside of practice."

Colton mulled over his next words. "True, but he puts in the effort when he is here, and if he gets us a win at The Frozen Four… I won't complain."

"Even if he outshines you?"

"I am good, but there's nothing to outshine. Tyler may be faster than me, but I still out-skate a lot of players in the NHL. I have some scouts watching me, and if I'm captain of a winning team, that looks a hell of a lot better than a losing one. So, get your attitude in check and try to get along with him. For the sake of the team."

I groaned, trying to think how I would survive an entire season with Aussie.

"How do I become friends with him if he won't come to a single party?"

Colton smiled. "Just give him time. We have our first game next week—we can try and drag him to an after-party then." Then just before he skated away, he added, "And stop grinding your teeth."

I rolled my eyes, not liking my chances. Though he managed to hide it from the rest of the team, I could see right through his lies about parties. I didn't miss the way he bit his lip or how his brow creased in the middle when he talked about them. Even during some of the locker room talk about women, his hands would clench into fists. Maybe he had someone back home, or perhaps he just didn't appreciate women being talked about like simple pieces of meat. I wasn't too fond of it either, but sometimes you had to play along—survival and all that. Like many of the guys here, this was my last year of hockey, and the key to success was undoubtedly getting along with the team.

Having my locker stall beside him was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because I could knock into him as much as I wished—which was every chance I got. I couldn't decide what I liked more: the side-eye he gave me or the daily frown. However, the guy had a body any man—straight, gay, or otherwise—would die for. Seriously, he had to have zero body fat.

The week leading up to the first game—when my focus should have been on that and only that—my attention seemed to fixate on Mr. Australia. He quickly made himself at home, and I couldn't miss his attempts to find his team identity. He seemed to be a guys' guy—except when it came to me.

After another practice, I walked past him, deliberately bashing my shoulder into his. I heard a grumble, but he never bit back—which was disappointing. For some reason, I decided that needed to change—immediately.

"Something to say, Aus?" I taunted.

"You're not that big. Watch where you're going."

"Not that big." I had half a mind to show him exactly how big I was, but you know, locker room etiquette. I stood a whole five inches taller than he did and was a hell of a lot broader. The urge to crowd him against the wall grew with each passing moment.

"Sorry, mate," I smirked. "Didn't see you there."

His eyes fell to my mouth. "Just stop bumping into me. We're on the same team here. No need to be checked, yeah?"

"Just didn't see you." Lie, lie, lie.

"Just like you didn't see the puck in stick-handling drills," he said sarcastically before heading for the showers in an effort to keep avoiding me.

I went out of my way to stay close to him. "Noticed my stick-handling skills, did you?"

"I notice nothing about you, Boston, other than you have a tendency to run people over when it's not needed."

I hum and get ready for a shower, only to notice him turn and leave without showering.

"Something wrong with the shower?"

"I'm going to shower in my dorm." He said in a hurry.

"Aw, feeling shy, Aussie??"

"The only thing I'm feeling is annoyed."

He was gone before I could get in another word.

Colton walked in and sensing the tension, gave me a warning glare. I responded with my heart-stopping smile. There was something about making Tyler Riley feel anything towards me that got my blood pumping. His perfect game with his perfect eyes and his perfect hair may do nothing but piss me off, but I loved getting under his skin.

My need to irritate him lingered throughout the week. But when it came to our first game of the season, we were all determined to showcase that we were the team to beat. Tyler's easy-going nature took a different turn. He was still friendly, yet he clearly wore his game face.

And we came out on top.

I was in the zone, and though I wasn't too sure about the Aussie at first, he stepped up—big time. His on-ice chemistry was next-level. It was like he could read my mind. He knew every move before I made it. I'd had my eye on him since we first crossed paths. It was like that one simple touch put him on my permanent radar. Communication was almost unnecessary. I knew I could sling any pass his way, and he'd respond flawlessly. The energy was electric. You could feel it in both of us, especially when that final buzzer sounded and that victory grin spread across his face. I got swept up in the joy, like a moth to his damn radiant light.

"Man, that was awesome!" I exclaimed, giving him a pat on the back.

"I've never had that before! Nothing was ever that quick—that effortless," he admitted with a slight grimace.

"Oh god, please never tell my team I said that."

I chuckled. "Oh, I'm definitely holding that against you, Aussie."

Colton joined us, draping an arm over each of our shoulders. "My dudes! If we maintain that magic, we'll be on top at the end of the season. We have to celebrate!"

I refrained from touching Tyler, yet he flinched, nonetheless. Colton, however, didn't seem to notice He was already talking up the party at the hockey house.

"Kels is coming," I added to the conversation.

Colton smirked. "Still friends with benefits?"

My only response was a nod. Tyler, noticeably tense, made his way to his stall beside mine.

"Getting a third?" Colton threw in.

Tyler didn't miss the quip, if his side-eye was anything to go by.

"Who knows? She calls the shots. I'm just there for the excitement—and to get off, obviously."

"Get it out of your system now," Colton warned. "I don't think your dad will appreciate your polygamous ways when you're running the firm with him."

"Pfft, what he doesn't know won't hurt him. The more, the merrier." Tyler made a noise of disgust, and as I turned to him, I raised an eyebrow. "Didn't think your kind were prudes."

He ignored me, shaking his head.

My eyes were drawn south to his glistening abs as he stripped his jersey and protective pads. I'd never met a man who had me reminding myself to stop ogling. Seriously, his body was a tribute to the male body in his prime. Something that made me understand why artists sculpted it.

"Do whatever you fancy in the bedroom, mate. I just don't need to be hearing about it," Tyler quipped, his Aussie accent giving the words an extra edge.

"Aw, has it been a while?" I taunted, enjoying his discomfort, the subtle tick in his jaw. His icy glare told me I was getting somewhere, getting close to cracking that shell.

"Not everyone is a sex fiend, Boston. And not everyone takes pleasure in hearing about your conquests."

"Who were they, and what did they do to your libido?" I prodded, relishing the discovery of an imperfection in his pretty facade.

"No one," he grumbled, turning to leave.

Instinctively, my hand reached out, grabbing his elbow.

"So, you're a virgin? How long were you planning on holding that card? Wouldn't have wanted the guys to find that out."

His pretty eyes flared with anger. "Fuck you, Hunter," he spat. "I don't need to explain myself to anyone—especially a self-righteous Boston prick like you." He yanked his arm back, surprising me with his strength.

I didn't let his fighting words stop me; that little button was mine to press, and I was going to press it. My lips quirked at the knowledge of what I was doing to him. Wanting to rile him up more, I continued. "Come find me when you are ready to get the stick out of your ass then, Aus. Maybe I could direct you in the direction of a good lay."

"I'll do just fine on my own." He pulled away and headed for the showers.

A glutton for punishment, I followed him. "You obviously don't. You need to chill. I thought you Aussies were supposed to go with the flow."

I watched his shoulders rise and fall with each breath; his fists clenched at his sides. I opened my mouth to continue my tirade, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me. I turned to look at Colton and simultaneously caught the eyes of my teammates, all staring at me like they didn't know who I was.

"What the fuck, man?" Colton sneered. "Is that how you make friends?"

I exhaled, the sound laced with resentment, then resulted in grinding my teeth again.

I am going to have to send him my dentist bill at this rate.

Tyler Riley was infuriating. He paraded around like he had it all together, excelling effortlessly in everything he touched—and looking damn good while he did it. He was the type that got everything handed to him on a platter: friends, grades, skills.

I bit back any comments on his looks, fully aware of my own allure. I had that edgy, rugged vibe that pulled people in with the mystery. As for Tyler, he presented himself as untouched, save for that damn tattoo on his chest boasting an unread quote and a seemingly personal date. No scars, just the illusion of the boy next door. But he wasn't the typical golden prep boy you'd find around here. No, he was some golden Aussie. His voice had a seductive lilt to it, illuminating his demeanor and drawing people in like a siren song.

And here I am: resentful yet lusting after him. Get your head in check, Hunt.

"He just needs to loosen up. He can't waltz into our locker room and judge us for having a good time. Dude's wound up tighter than a preacher at a pride fest."

Laughter erupted from my teammates. "See? They get it!" I gestured to the laughing faces, but Colton simply shook his head.

"If it fuels his game on the ice, I couldn't care less. Respect his boundaries, would you? I want what we had today. And if it's ‘cause he's choosing to stay abstinent, well, screw it, I don't give a damn."

The word ‘abstinent' almost made me gag. But damn, there was this twisted desire to unravel what makes that guy tick. He was like a scratch-off ticket, the jackpot hidden beneath a cover. And damn if I didn't want to find it.