Antagonym

Chapter 12

"It's okay, Beckett," I whispered, suddenly feeling like I couldn't speak at full volume. I wouldn't say it out loud, but it was better it was Beck instead of a doctor. The intensity of Beck's eyes was burning. I felt trapped under his gaze like I was a naked with my wrists pinned and my body between Beck and the wall all over again.

Beck must have felt it to, because he kept his hand on my skin when he finished, his warm touch resting at the bottom of my neck. "I don't think anything is broken. You should be okay. We can see a trainer if it still hurts in a few days," he spoke like he was sure of himself. I don't think there was anything Beck wasn't confident about.

"Mhm," I hummed back, tilting my head so it was straight again. My green irises focused on Beck's as he looked down at me with a hooded gaze. It was subtle but I let Beck press my back agains the wood between cubby spaces. What was I doing?

His other hand rested on my bare waist while the one on my neck glided up to my chin, holding my face between his thumb and forefinger. The tip of his thumb was brushing my bottom lip and I didn't mind. "I want to kiss you, Danny," Beck's husky voice reached my ears like liquid gold. I loved the way his smooth tone sounded. It turned me on more than I'd like to admit.

I wanted to tell Beck to kiss me more than anything. The chemistry was undeniably there, but I just couldn't. "Don't," because I would not be able to stop myself.

"Don't tell me you don't want this, Danny," Beck whispered, searching my eyes in desperation. "No one has to know how I hold you or how you say my name behind closed doors." It didn't take a genius to get what he was insinuating.

"I do, and that's the problem, Beckett. I've worked too hard for this. We've worked to hard to ruin this all just to get off."

"Mhm," he hummed without taking his eyes from my face. "It was good sex, though."

"The best." Beck dropped his hand from my face and my hip, taking a step back. As quickly as the sexual tension had appeared, it was sucked out of the air and replaced with the sound of the television droning in the background. I felt his gaze as I slipped my grey T-shirt over my head and grabbed my backpack. I glanced at Beck as I went to leave, watching the muscles of his back flex under his shirt as he picked his own backpack up off the ground. I hadn't even noticed him bring it in in the first place.

We walked silently side by side through the large hallways of the stadium, probably both berating ourselves for how we acted. Beck and I wanted to have sex, there was no question about that. The problem lies in the fact that even if by some miracle, people still took me seriously, if they found out we were hooking up then they would expect us to be dating. Who gives a shit about my sex life, right? Wrong. Sports columnists liked to gossip just as much, if not more, than the authors of the National Inquirer. Listen to sports radio for ten measly minutes in the morning and you'll get a taste of what I mean.

I was so lost in my own thoughts of self pity for not being able to claim the best dick of my life, I didn't even notice Thomas Jones lending agains the cinderblock wall with his arms crossed until he stood up straight and stepped in front of my path a foot away. "What do you want, Jones?" I couldn't hide my discontent especially after the bruise he had done a brilliant job of enhancing.

"Prince Charming come to your rescue? Can't take a puck?" The meaty red head growled in a taunting tone. I wanted nothing more than to knock his white teeth out. Beck took a step forwards with his fists balled. My small hand reached out and grabbed his bulging bicep to stop him, but Beck wasn't the only one to notice. "Need your girlfriend's permission?"

"We aren't on the ice Jones. I would watch what you say next or I won't hesitate to knock you the fuck out. That was a dirty shot and everyone knows it," Beck spat back at the captain with the crooked nose. Maybe Beck could straighten that out for him.

In hockey you always toed the line of fighting, you always shoved the guy next to you to show dominance. Right now there were no rules and someone like Beck wasn't afraid to punch a fellow player who was being a dick. The media could claim Beck was a bad person all they wanted, but you know GM's were secretly scouting hot headed guys who didn't have a rap sheet or a domestic violence accusation. It was just part of the game. You wanted the tough enough to shot who's boss and smart enough to avoid suspension.

"God, you're pussy whipped. I'm glad I hit that whore of yours if it agitated you this much. Don't worry, you'll learn I was right soon enough when she becomes a fucking disloyal slut just like her brothers fuck toy."

My anger soared inside but my body froze as my mind took over. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. The taste of the yellow Gatorade. The warm light of the office. The groggy feeling in my system. Don't think about it. Don't think about Sylvia, either. Just don't.

Beck might not know much about Danielle Malton, but everyone knew about Sylvia Mason and Griffin Riley. That was the lowest stoop an insult could go. I was still in my frozen and wide eyed state when Beck wound up and socked Thomas in the jaw so hard a crack filled the air as his body fell against the grey wall. I didn't even have time to stop it.

Beck grabbed the red collar of Jones' T-shirt in his left fist, pinning the still stunned player against the cinderblocks of the hallway. "Say shit like that again and you'll be god damn lucky it was me that hit you because next time I will fucking knock you out while Seb and Griffin wait to beat your dead body," Beck growled in an animalistic tone, sneering at the other captain while clenching his strong jaw.

Thomas spat blood on the concrete floor near my feet. "I'll ruin you, Sampson."

"I'm sure you will," Beck offered as a response with his upturned nose before letting Jones' body go and taking my ridged body under his heavy arm protectively. He guiding me down the hall and away from Thomas as fast as he could make me walk. Thomas wouldn't say shit to anyone and we all knew it. That would mean admitting he got punched in the face without fighting back.

My feet rooted themselves in place when we reached the front of the building, causing Beck to stop and look at me with sympathy. "Are you okay? I can take you home, Finn's, you can come to mine, we can go somewhere. Just tell me what you want," he asked softly while looking at my blank face.

"Beck, you're a great friend and thank you for taking care of Thomas for me, but right now I really need to be alone." I didn't even wait for a response. Instead I shouldered past his strong body and headed towards the door, the weight of Beck's gaze more intense than the hit I'd taken. I didn't care for once.

"Danny, please tell me you're going home or to Finn's," Beck called out.

All I said was, "I need to be alone, Beck."

And then I disappeared into the night.