The Hockey Captain's Secret Girl

17.The Aftermath

The sound of heavy, squeaking rubber soles was getting closer. I froze, my heart leaping straight into my throat. If a student or a member of the arena staff caught us in this dimly lit hallway, especially after the near-riot Brandon had just caused on the hardwood, his entire career would be over before the night did.

The scouts would tag him as a volatile liability. I couldn't let my baggage ruin him.

Brandon must have felt the sudden stiffness in my shoulders. Instead of letting me go, he reacted on pure hockey instinct. He hauled me deeper into the dark, alcove-like shadow behind a massive concrete pillar. His powerful arm locked around my lower back, hoisting me flush against his solid chest to make sure my white sweater was completely hidden from the hallway’s line of sight.

“Don’t make a sound, Princess,” he breathed against my ear, his hot, minty breath sending a desperate shiver down my spine despite the panic clawing at my chest.

A university janitor ambled past, wheeling a squeaking utility cart and grumbling under his breath. I held my breath, burying my face into the crook of Brandon’s neck, my nose brushing the warm, hard skin of his collarbone. I didn't dare draw a single breath until the squeak of those wheels completely faded down the corridor toward the storage rooms.

Jesus. It was more nerve-wracking than a playoff penalty shootout.

Once the silence settled back over the concrete hall, Brandon slowly loosened his grip, though his hands didn't leave my hips. He kept his eyes locked on mine, his chest still heaving. His dark gaze searched my face, checking for any signs of fear, but all he found was the same chaotic heat he was radiating.

“You see what I mean?” Brandon rasped, his voice dropping to a rough, urgent whisper. “We can’t keep doing this, Hailey. Every single second we spend pretending to be strangers on this campus is pure f*****g torture. Not being able to touch you, not being able to claim you in front of them, it’s hell.”

“But Brandon…” I reached up, my trembling fingers resting against the heavy, rapid thud of his heart beneath his tee. “If we go public now, Jessica won’t just stop at rumors. She’ll burn us both. She has half the athletic disciplinary committee in her dad's pocket.”

Brandon let out a harsh, frustrated breath, leaning down to press his forehead against mine. “I have a plan. But I need you to trust me. Just a little longer.”

“What plan? You’re the one who demanded we keep this a secret in the first place, and now you’re the one losing his mind.”

A slow, wicked tilt curved the corner of his mouth. “And you? Are you really that patient, Hailey? Can you honestly tell me you can go a day without this?”

His gaze drifted down to my lips, heavy and demanding, and the silence that stretched between us was my admission of guilt. He was right. I was just as addicted. I craved his touch, his suffocating warmth, every single second we were apart.

“So, what’s the play, Walker?”

He didn't answer right away. His large hands slid down, hooking under my thighs to hitch me slightly higher against him, eliminating any lingering trace of air between our bodies. “For now, you need to go back inside. The third quarter isn't over. And Vance… he's still waiting for you.”

I stiffened. “I am not going back in there. I’m not going to be the reason you storm the court and catch a suspension. You’ll end up killing him.”

Brandon cupped my face in his massive hands, his thumbs gently sweeping over my cheekbones, a touch so incredibly tender it made me forget the raw violence he’d displayed on the court minutes ago. “You have to go back. If you disappear now, it looks like you’re running. That's exactly what Jessica wants. I want you to walk back into that arena with your chin up, Hailey. Show them they can't touch the Ice Princess.”

He leaned down, pressing his lips to my forehead in a long, lingering kiss that made my knees turn to water. Then his mouth traced a path down my cheek, ghosting over my jawline before delivering a bruising, possessive kiss to my lips.

“I’m heading to the hockey locker room so the guys don't start asking questions. You go back to the stands and show them who the f**k you are. And tonight…” Brandon paused, his dark eyes burning into mine with an intensity that made my blood run hot. “…I’m coming to your apartment. We’re finalizing the plan.”

Before I could voice a single protest, he captured my mouth in one last hard, demanding kiss, broke away, and vanished down the corridor with long, predatory strides.

I stood frozen against the brick wall, trying to get my heart rate under control. The plan. Brandon Walker wasn’t the type of guy to make a move without a calculated strategy.

But this game of cat-and-mouse was starting to feel like a spark heading straight for a powder keg.

Taking a deep breath, I smoothed down my knit sweater, adjusted my hair, and pushed through the heavy doors back into the roaring heat of the sports arena.

The noise hit me like a physical wall. The Titans were still fighting for their lead, but I didn't look up at the VIP box this time. My eyes went straight to the hardwood, locking onto Alex Vance as he drove the ball down the lane.

The second he passed the ball off, his eyes swept the stands and landed dead on me.

Alex’s cocky, self-assured smirk slowly faltered. His eyes narrowed, a sharp, calculating gaze replacing his usual bad-boy arrogance. He was smart. He knew exactly where the exit doors led, and he knew Brandon had cleared out right after me.

But his look this time was different. It wasn't just the gaze of a guy trying to bait his rival anymore. It was the look of a predator who had just realized he wasn't the only one hunting.

As I took my seat next to a frantic Lily, my phone buzzed violently in my back pocket.

I pulled it out, my fingers trembling as I unlocked the screen. It was a direct message from an unknown number, but the words made my stomach drop into a bottomless, freezing void.

Unknown: Cute little hallway tryst, Hailey. Does the athletic board know their golden-boy hockey captain is sharing his bed with a banned, disgraced figure skater? Tell Brandon to play nice, or the dean gets the video of you two behind the pillar in five minutes.

My breath hitched, the ambient roar of the arena fading into a high-pitched ring. I whipped my head toward the concourse, my eyes frantically scanning the shadows near the exit.

This wasn't just a rivalry anymore. The trap had already snapped shut.