Riley wasn’t concerned about it. He didn’t lose consciousness, and he had no other symptoms. His head would be fine.
He followed Sloan to the showers, pausing when Sloan took the spot beside him with a sigh and aggressively turned the tap on.
Riley made a point of looking across the row of unoccupied showerheads and back at Sloan, but all he got for his effort was a furrowed brow and a sneer.
“Do you know how much shit I would be in if you decided to throw yourself at a wall again and fall?” Sloan grumbled. “I’m sticking close because you’re a spazz.”
Riley took a moment to wash his hair before he answered, breathing deeply to keep his temper from sizzling to a boiling point.
“I didn’t mean to skate into the wall,” he said after his brief meditation. “There are a lot of problems I’ve been overthinking lately, and I picked the worst time to mentally sort them out. I’m not hurt, and I don’t have a concussion. I’m aching because the ice is hard, and I got the wind knocked out of me. I don’t need to be watched?—”
A hand slapped over his mouth, and he was shoved back, bumping against the wall with as little force as possible. Riley cringed and waited for his head to hit the tile as he stumbled, but a second hand was there to stop the impact, cushioning it before that could happen.
“Mmmf muhh fuhh—!” Riley twisted, fighting to get out of Sloan’s hold, but his balance was off, and his attacker had been selected as an enforcer for a reason. Sloan was sixty percent muscle and forty percent rage, so Riley didn’t stand a chance in hell.
“Listen, you dumb mother fucker,” Sloan hissed. “Do you even know how hard you hit your head? It bounced like a basketball, which is fitting because you have air in place of a brain, so let me spell it out for you.”
Riley felt like this conversation could be had without his dick high-fiving Sloan’s, but it’s not like he could suggest that when he was being suffocated.
“Ineedyou right now,” Sloan continued, bringing his face so close that his nose bumped the hand covering Riley’s mouth. “I don’t have time for your whining, your problems or your macho showboating. I need you to not die of a brain bleed in the next twenty-four hours so you can get your ass back onto the ice and figure out how to play hockey without ending up on IR.”
Ah, fuck it. Riley was done holding himself back from a fight.
Taking hold of Sloan’s hand, Riley ripped it away from his mouth with a frustrated growl. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do this whole time?! Don’t act like you’re worried about ourchemistrywhen it’s your fault we have none!”
He was waiting for Sloan to step back—waiting for him to put space between them so this was less awkward—but he didn’t. Sloan didn’t yell, curse or sneer like Riley was expecting. Instead, his blue eyes flicked down, lingering on Riley’s mouth too long for it to be an accident, then flicked back up.
“Evans, you’re not the only one here with problems to overthink,” Sloan said, his voice lowering enough that it sent warning signals straight to Riley’s flight instincts. “You’re driving me insane, you know that, right?”
They were too close. Too fucking close.
And even though Riley had a feeling that Sloan wanted to murder him, he was more worried about beingkissedby him. They were almost nose to nose, breath mingling, and tempers flaring. All Sloan had to do was lean half an inch closer; their lips would brush, and Riley would finally find out if they were as soft as they looked.
Wait.
What?
“Get off me,” Riley snarled through clenched teeth. “Or I’m not the only one walking out of here on concussion protocol.”
Riley’s eyes caught the corner of Sloan’s mouth twitch, like he was holding back a smirk.
“Scared, Evans?”
Of Sloan? Never.
But there was no fight. Sloan conceded and let go, removing his hand from the back of Riley’s head while shooting him a glare. He returned to his shower and continued washing as if the argument had never happened, leaving Riley alone to lean against the wall.
Riley was confused and frustrated. He didn’t know why it was so difficult to get a read on Sloan, and replaying their conversation over and over wasn’t helping.
Maybe he would have to accept the fact that he wouldneverunderstand the guy. Not without mind-reading powers at least.
Riley did have a secret weapon in Allen Monroe, who was exceptionally good at figuring people out, but he was saving that as a last resort.
But if he wanted the problem to go away, he would have to accept the blow to his pride and think about his future with the Citadels. And if Allen couldn’t help him, then it was time to pick a band name.
“Are you hallucinating, being weird, or having a brain bleed?” Sloan asked, splashing a wave of water toward Riley’s face. “Should I get Cooper?”
Riley huffed and splashed him back, grinning when Sloan cursed and had to turn around to avoid getting water in his eyes. He would pay for the retaliation later, but for now, Sloan’s spluttering was like music to his ears.