Page 69 of Offside Attraction

“Thanks,” I mutter, not in the mood for conversation as I walk past him toward my locker.

The locker room is almost empty—just me, Lance, Ezra, Finn, Zach, and Hayes, who’s still in the shower. This is only the second time I’ve showered here since joining the team. Most days, I avoid the locker room altogether—either I go straight home or wait until everyone clears out. No one’s seen me shirtless before. No one’s seen the ink.

“Your parents let you get those?” Finn asks, breaking off whatever quiet conversation he was having with Ezra. His eyes drag over the tattoos on my skin.

I don’t bother answering right away as I open my locker.

“No.”

That’s all he gets.

Finn’s one of Hayes’s people. That automatically puts him on my shit list.

I grab a black T-shirt and sit on the bench, pulling it over my head. The fabric drags across my skin as I reach down for my sneakers.

“You good?” Zach asks, settling beside me with that easy smile of his. His blonde hair is loose, falling down his neck, brushing his shoulders. He looks like a pretty girl. Too pretty.

“Yeah,” I say, flashing him a small, polite smile as I slip my foot into my shoe.

“What’s your deal?”

The voice makes my jaw tighten.

I look up slowly.

Ezra fucking King.

We’ve barely spoken since I joined the team. We skate together, pass the puck, pretend the past doesn’t exist. Him being Hayes’s loyal lapdog doesn’t suddenly make him tolerable.

“You talking to me?” I ask, fingers pausing on my laces as I sit up straighter.

Ezra scoffs. “Ever since you got back, you’ve been acting like you own the damn school. Throwing looks. Starting shit. Picking fights with Hayes. You got a problem with us or something?”

I let out a short laugh, slow and humorless. “And here I thought you’d grown up.” I tilt my head. “Guess not. Still Griffin’s bitch.”

The words land.

Ezra’s mouth tightens. He bites his lip, anger flashing across his face as he takes a step toward me. “What the fuck is your problem, man?”

“Hey—cool it, Ezra.” Lance steps in, placing himself just close enough to intervene if this goes sideways.

I don’t need the help. I can handle Ezra just fine.

“Stay out of it, Lance,” Ezra snaps. “I’m sick of Dakota’s shit.”

“If you know what’s good for you,” I say quietly, every word sharp, deliberate, “you’ll stay out of my business.”

Ezra’s eyes harden. “Or what?”

I rise slowly to my feet, the anger from earlier clawing its way back up my spine, my blood beginning to boil. I stare down at Ezra, and he glares right back at me, jaw tight. My gaze drops to his clenched fist and I scoff, an irritating smile tugging at my lips.

“Back off, Ezra.”

The voice is thick, commanding—cutting straight through the tension.

Hayes appears at Ezra’s side, one hand pressing firmly against his chest as he pushes him back. “Back off,” he repeats, his glare sharp and final.

I scoff, already prepared to tell Hayes to stay the hell out of my business—