Chapter 14 - Stone

We’re back home. Even after only two days sleeping in the same room as Callum, my apartment feels kind of empty.

He was awake before me yesterday morning. Showered, dressed, and packed before I had even crawled out of bed. Before he walked out the door, he threw a little smile at me over his shoulder.

He really does confuse the fuck out of me.

It seemed like he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. But…he doesn’t hate me anymore?

I don’t fucking know.

Whatever’s going on with him, all I know is that I can’t get him out of my head. I got myself off when I got home last night and again in the shower this morning to the memory of his cock in my mouth, of him writhing and moaning beneath me.

Fuck, I wanted his lips too.

I don’t know if it’ll ever happen again. But I really fucking want it to.

I want him again. I want all of him.

I’m so far past obsessed at this point.

I’ve only ever fallen into an obsession once in my life, and a lot of people died as a result of it. A lot of bad people, but still.

I’m not sure what that says about Callum’s fate.

Entering the science building, I head down the hallway toward the anatomy class we share. Callum’s already in his usual seat, and I’m not surprised to see his sketchbook open on the desk in front of him.

Coming up behind him, I lean down and whisper close to his ear. “Is this seat taken?”

A shiver visibly courses through him, and I grin.

However, when he speaks, his voice is steady. “I have a feeling you’re going to sit there anyway.”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t want me to.”

I take my seat, and when he looks over at me, he has that same small smile on his face that he had the last time I saw him. It does strange things to that organ fluttering away in my chest.

He needs to stop before I pin him to his fucking desk and claim him in front of the entire class.

“Well, at least some things don’t change,” Callum mutters as he looks back down at his sketchbook, like he’s talking to himself. “Stone still has a big fucking head.”

When he says my name, every memory of him moaning it inside that hotel room comes rushing back to me. I have to look away, fixing my gaze to the front of the room, willing all my blood to stay above my waist.

It doesn’t work.

“You would know,” I tell him, my voice huskier than before.

He coughs, choking on air.

I grin again.

The professor chooses that moment to enter the room and start class.

It’s a good thing this is a refresher course. Between Callum sitting beside me, memories crashing against the walls of my skull like erotic waves, and my dick that really doesn’t want to stay soft, I’m not able to concentrate for shit.

I haven’t been able to get Callum alone all week.

And, trust me, I’ve tried.

Our practices have been long and grueling. We’re both drowning in coursework. It’s only Thursday, and we’ve already had three early morning off-ice conditioning sessions to prepare for our two games at home this weekend.

I’ve been in the rink, skating alone for close to ten minutes when the rest of the team comes down the tunnel.

Any good this ritual does for me is washed away when my eyes land on Callum first, then the man entering the bench next to him.

Fucking Eric Vaughn.

Wearing a fucking Monarchs sweater.

I swear I nearly blow a fucking gasket when Callum laughs at something he says and bumps his shoulder against his. It takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to grab the back of Callum’s sweater and haul him away like I’m some caveman.

The moment I finally have him alone again, I’ll make sure he knows who he belongs to.

He once told me that he doesn’t belong to anyone, but I’ll change his mind.

He fell into bed with me willingly. There’s no escape for him now.

That much is obvious when his eyes find mine and become trapped there. Caught. Captured.

The coach’s whistle blows, breaking the connection.

But it’s only temporary.

“There’s going to be a little change in the lineup,” Coach announces as he skates out onto the ice. “Peterson failed his drug test last week, so Vaughn here will be taking his place on Brooks’s line. That’s all. Everyone warm up!”

I may not have known Lucas Peterson all that well, but I still find it odd that anyone would risk their spot for some drugs.

Then again, my vices are a lot different than most.

The rest of the team comes out with sticks and pucks, and Callum and I immediately fall into our routine, warming up with passes and stretches, something I’ve grown even more appreciative of over the past week.

If Callum can move his body like that on the ice covered in pads and gear…well, my imagination has been getting quite the workout too.

Practice starts with puck control and shooting drills. It all goes about the same as usual except for the fact that my eyes are following Callum around a hell of a lot more. And that’s saying something. Every time he gets close enough to brush against Eric, or he and Eric laugh about something together, I wish we were in a scrimmage so I’d have an excuse to crush Eric like a bug against the boards.

Or maybe snap my stick over his head.

Cut his throat with the blade of my skate.

Cover the fucking ice with his blood.

There goes my imagination again.

After practice, we all head to the locker room and strip out of our gear. Spirits are high with the impending game tomorrow. Laughter bounces off the concrete walls, and balls of tape are thrown across the room.

All the while, all I see is red.

Callum has been friends with Nate and Brooks since before I got here. He and his roommate seem close. But when it comes to Eric, he was too happy to see him in Massachusetts last weekend. He’s been more friendly with him than with anyone else.

They played for a single year together when Callum was a freshman in high school. How does that equal best fucking buds?

I guess I’m just a jealous asshole.

A few of us go into the showers, including me, Callum, Eric, and Nate. At my last school, the showers were open. I prefer the stalls we have here. Only for the fact that no one else gets to see Callum naked.

Except he and Eric are still talking and laughing between their neighboring stalls.

Fuck. Somebody might be dying tonight.

When we come out with towels wrapped around our waists, Eric playfully punches Callum in the shoulder for something he said while they were in the showers. I don’t know what the fuck it was because my ears are still ringing with the echoes of screams.

I still don’t know what the hell they’re on about.

All I know is that Eric’s hand touched Callum’s bare skin.

I’m the last one trailing out of the showers, right behind Callum. After the other guys exit ahead of us, I grab onto his arm and force him around to face me.

Leaning closer, I keep my voice low. “If he touches you again, I’ll rip his fucking hand off.”

His eyes widen as though he believes every word.

Good.

I’m not fucking lying.

“Jesus, Stone,” he whispers like he’s only now realized what kind of trouble he’s gotten himself into. However, a second later, he squares his jaw. “Let me go.”

Apparently, he’s also realized how much control he has over me because I release him immediately.

Most of the other guys have left already. I’m still fucking seething as we get dressed, all the background noise little more than static as the blood rushes in my ears.

Nate and Brooks are grabbing their shit and getting ready to head out together when Eric says something that breaks through the fuzz and crackles.

“You want a ride?”

My eyes cut to Callum, who looks at me and back to Eric.

“I can give you a ride,” I offer before he can respond, not giving one damn how possessive I come across.

“Oh, it’s cool, man,” Eric says. “I’m going over to his place anyway. Jesse and I have a finance class together, and we have study plans.”

So now he’s going to be inside Callum’s home too.

I wonder how many little pieces I could cut Eric’s body into.

Callum nods at him. “Yeah, that works.”

Maybe I’ll get the chance to find out.

Nate and Brooks head out, and Callum pulls on his hoodie. I know I don’t have a right to stop him, but any sense I had has long since gone out the window.

I step up to him while Eric is zipping up his bag on the other side of the room. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Callum hesitates with his hand on his bag, like he’s considering refusing.

I know he’s not stupid…

“It’s fine,” Eric answers for him as he throws his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you outside, Cal.”

“Okay,” Cal says.

As soon as Eric is out the door, I crowd Callum’s space. “What the fuck did I just tell you?”

He lets go of his bag and crosses his arms over his chest, guaranteeing at least a couple more inches of space between us. “What the hell is your problem? Eric is my friend . You know, like Nate and Brooks and Jesse are my friends. You’re being fucking crazy.”

“Crazy?” I sure feel like it, but… “You haven’t seen crazy yet.”

“I told you before that I don’t belong to anyone. That includes you, Stone. Now back the fuck off.”

I’m in a tunnel that’s caving in, and the only thing at the end of it is Callum.

Taking a step forward, my chest bumps against his forearms. It’s still not as close as I’d rather be.

“If I haven’t made it clear to you by now, I don’t take anything from you that you don’t willingly give.” I lean forward another inch until I can feel his choppy breath on my lips. “But you’ve already given yourself to me. So it’s too fucking late for that, Callum.”

His jaw tenses, and he speaks through clenched teeth. “I’m. Not. Yours.”

I step back again, wondering if my eyes are as dark as his are right now. “Fine. Then leave.”

He lets out an exasperated breath and turns away. I’m tempted to grab him and pin him down, show him that he really is mine.

But I can’t force him. I won’t .

He’ll realize it for himself soon.

After he’s gone, I pick up someone’s glove left on the bench and throw it clear across the locker room, knocking someone else’s pads down from their shelf.

This is exactly why I have an outlet for my anger. Hockey’s good for when I just need to crunch someone against the boards. Maybe break a bone or two.

But this anger?

Someone is definitely dying tonight.