The scrimmage loomed like a storm cloud, but the house refused to stay quiet. After the kitchen, I retreated upstairs, nerves frayed and skin still tingling from Caleb’s almost-touch at the counter. I needed space. I needed to tape my sticks, review notes on Kane’s tendencies, and breathe without feeling his eyes on me.
The shared bathroom on the second floor had become neutral ground—until it wasn’t.
I stepped inside to brush my teeth and found the door already ajar. Steam curled lazily from the shower. Caleb stood at the sink, shirtless again, wiping condensation off the mirror with a towel. Water droplets still clung to his shoulders and ran down the deep groove of his spine. His gray sweatpants hung low, revealing the sharp V of his hips.
He met my eyes in the reflection. Neither of
