Page 18 of Full Body Hit, Part 2 (Alpha Omega Hockey #6)

Auston didn’t look ecstatic about the sudden company, but he switched into work mode, beating Chase in every single face-off, but Chase was pretty sure he got a little better.

“I got better, right?” Chase whined as they finally made it to the locker room.

Auston was rubbing his shoulder. “I haven’t done that many face-offs in years. I think you dislocated my arm. Yeah, you’re not bad at face-offs, babe.”

“I literally lost every single one.”

“Okay, but my face-off percentage is—”

“I know what your face-off percentage is.” Chase cut him off moodily. The previous year, it had been 60.3, which was fucking amazing.

Auston smirked. “Of course you do.”

Shut up , Chase wanted to say playfully, but he just shrugged, insecure about his obsession, about the talent gap between them.

“Hey. Your face-offs are fucking great for a rookie, and that’s one of the most experience-based skills, yeah? Don’t get in your head about it. Let’s shower and go get lunch, huh?”

“Sure,” Chase agreed, not wanting to get into what Auston really thought about Chase’s skills.

Auston chose their lunch spot again, another place equipped with booths. This time, Auston slid in on the same side as Chase, squeezing them together so that they were touching from knee to shoulder, the bulk of Auston jostling him every time the Alpha shifted.

Auston let Chase continue to talk about hockey—questions about the years Auston had won the cups, if he had known all year that something was different, if there was an X factor that allowed a team to reach the end.

“Nah,” Auston said. “Well, I mean—there are so many years where you feel it . I’ve been so fucking convinced that we could go all the way only for us to bounce in the first round.

Games I felt we could win until the very last second.

You kinda have to have that, you know? Gotta believe in yourself beyond reason or logic or whatever. ”

Chase hummed, turning that thought over. Obviously, Chase thought he had some amount of skill—he’d made it to the fucking NHL. He’d been drafted third overall. The coach was happy with him. He was getting good ice time.

But that confidence slept right beside the stringent certainty that he was worthless.

Chase honestly didn’t know how the two things could cohabitate in the same space. It wasn’t even a pendulum that swung from one thing to another—it was two creatures intertwined, opposites and yet still confusing where one started and the other stopped.

From the beginning, Aunix had been a person to bring out the bright in Chase.

Auston was turning out to do the same, smiling down at him, crowding into his space like he belonged there. The attention made Chase warm. The way their bodies were pressed together, out here in public where anyone could see.

And, in the shadows, it was even hotter, Auston’s bear paw landing on Chase’s thigh, high up on his jeans, proprietary.

“I never asked you—how’d you get into hockey?” Auston wondered after the food arrived. Ridiculously, Auston was eating his sandwich with one hand, half of it spilling out, just so he could keep a palm on Chase.

Chase chewed and swallowed his own bite.

“My mom. She was a figure skater when she was younger, but she, uhm…she got pregnant with me just before the second time she was supposed to go to the Olympics, so she had to miss out. She tried to catch up on her conditioning after having me but it messed up her knee. So. I dunno. She took me skating pretty early on, and I kind of fell in love with hockey.”

Auston squeezed his thigh as if that particular revelation should be followed by comfort, but it wasn’t like the injury had happened to him.

The worst thing Chase had gone through in relation to that was all the times his mom had told him that story—how having Chase had ruined her career. How she had chosen him over herself.

Sometimes it felt as if she thought she’d made the wrong choice.

But Chase’s silly insecurities weren’t comparable to having to go through what his mom had.

She and Chase’s dad hadn’t even been married back then—they had barely been dating.

It was supposed to be something casual, but it had resulted in little baby Chase and, not long after, the end of his mother’s career.

“I see,” Auston said like he really was seeing something bigger than the little anecdote Chase had shared.

Chase shrugged. “Obviously I’m super grateful to her for everything. For choosing me. For, you know…pushing me so hard.”

Auston grunted. “Normally kids aren’t made to feel grateful just for existing.”

Chase frowned, but Auston went on.

“I guess the real question here is when you became an Auston Mazdaki fanboy.”

Chase groaned. “You did not just refer to yourself in the third person. Let me out, I’m leaving.”

If anything, Auston pushed him further into the corner. “Nope. What did you say the other day?” He leaned in further, lips brushing Chase’s ear. “I was the last person you ever scented.”

Chase shuddered. Holy fuck. He was getting wet in the middle of a goddamn restaurant, organs doused in gasoline and set on fire, a painless kind of burning that begged instead of consuming.

Auston’s nostrils flared and Chase felt the instant Auston caught a whiff of his slick, pupils going wide and hand clenching down on Chase’s leg.

Fuck. Fuck .

It wasn’t fair, how quickly things could go from a normal conversation to Chase wanting to crawl all over Auston and plead for his touch.

After a long, long moment, Auston pulled away.

The question of when, exactly, Chase had become a fan of Auston was left unanswered as they finished their lunch, sweat trickling down Chase’s back.

Auston had said they were taking it slow, but surely he was going to invite Chase to his apartment, right? Or go to Chase’s? They weren’t going to just leave this fire to burn away.

Instead, when they were done with their food, Auston kissed him chastely by Chase’s car and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chase grabbed Auston’s jacket. “What? No. Let’s—don’t you want to hang out at yours? Or mine?”

Auston watched him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Come on . We’ve already—”

“Taking it slow. Remember?”

Chase clenched his teeth. “Is this because of my scent? Because—” He yelped as Auston pushed him into the driver’s side door, hips rubbing together.

“Don’t even fucking go there. We’re taking it slow because it’s the right thing to do, not because…I’d fuck you against this car right now if I could.”

Chase buried his other hand into the puffy material of Auston’s jacket too. “You can .” He leaned up and then they were kissing, open-mouthed and nasty like they were in the middle of fucking, wet and dripping already.

Auston stepped back abruptly. “Nope. No.”

“Daddy—”

“ Don’t. Fuck, I gotta get out of here.” He untangled himself from Chase’s fingers. “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby. Be good.”

Chase gaped as Auston actually started walking away. “Are you serious?” he shouted after him.

Auston didn’t even turn around, practically sprinting away, one hand waving in the air.

Chase glared at his retreating form. Part of him warned him to be more respectful of Auston’s boundaries, but the whole, ‘I wanna fuck you against this car thing’ belied the reason for Auston’s decisions.

He was doing this because of some misguided instinct to protect Chase. Which wasn’t fucking working—all Auston was doing was frustrating him to no end.

Well, if Auston wanted to play that game, Chase would too.

He didn’t know how he’d get it, but revenge would be sweet.