Page 71 of Playing Rough

Irritation simmers in my chest, remembering how coldly he dismissed me. After everything we meant to each other once upon a time, I deserve better than the brush off. But every attempt to reconnect gets rebuffed. It's like he's a stranger now, not the boy I grew up playing pickup games and causing trouble with.

Across the locker room, someone mentions our last game against Evergreen, Knight's old team. I tense, waiting for his reaction. For a long beat, nothing. He just continues silently sorting gear, back turned, shoulders rigid.

Eli shakes his head, chuckling. "Man, their defense was out for blood that game. Remember that massive dude, House, who kept trying to flatten Kensington every chance he got? Bet that bastard's still pissed he couldn't rattle you." He playfully nudges Riot with his elbow.

Riot smirks. “If that guy wants round two, he knows where to find me. I’ll happily break his jaw again.”

The locker room erupts with laughter and mock cheers. Riot's never backed down from a challenge, and London's got his back now too. His arm’s slung around his boyfriend’s waist like they’re totally comfortable. Those two are a fucking force and I wouldn’t want to be on their bad side.

My gaze flicks over to Knight just in time to see his shoulders stiffen. His bunched muscles and clenched jaw scream louder than any words. I can practically feel the discomfort rolling off of him.

None of the other guys notice, though. They're too busy recounting plays, reminiscing about their favorite memories and trash talking all the teams who couldn't hack it against us. For them, it's lighthearted and fun—the last chance to revel in the season before we take off.

But for Knight, every word seems to wind him tighter. I watch emotions play across his face, knowing his thoughts like my own so many years ago. Dragging up the past won't do any good, but I can't just stand by silently either. Not when I know something’s up with him.

I grab my shampoo and step into the showers before I do something stupid like call Knight out on his shit here in front of everyone. But the conversation we're gonna have is long overdue.

The anger in my chest swells the more I think about his distance after high school. Being ghosted by your best friendsucks. It left me a goddamn mess, like I lost one of my limbs, but I’m not hurt anymore.

Okay, that’s a lie, but I’m more pissed off than angry now. I twist the shower handle roughly, welcoming the scalding spray as it pelts my back. Scrubbing my skin aggressively with the soap as I deal with my emotional bullshit.

By the time I shut the water off, the locker room is quieter. Most of the guys have cleared out, off to continue the celebration or nap off our late night of partying. Riot and London left a few minutes ago tradingfuck melooks that are still weird as hell to witness.

Part of me envies what those two have found together. Meanwhile, a chasm has opened up between Knight and me that feels impossible to bridge most days. Not that it’s the same. Knight and me, we’re not like that. Our relationship was friendship only. No bennies.

I like chicks and, as far as I know, so does he.

Doesn’t mean his distance doesn’t hurt like a bitch. I don’t even know what I did. One minute he’s my best bro, the next he’s gone from my life like a fucking ghost.

I grab my towel and step back into the main room, mostly empty now except for the stragglers. Knight's still here, though, and the second he sees me, he starts packing his shit faster so he can escape. But I'm done.

"Hey, we need to talk."

Knight tenses at my voice but doesn't turn. "I've got nothing to say to you."

I bristle at his dismissive tone. "Well, I sure as hell have things to say to you. And you're damn well gonna listen." I turn and grab my boxers, dropping my towel and pulling them on. I feel like I’m pulling on armor as I get dressed, needing the layers between us to protect myself from his weapon of a tongue.

At that, Knight whirls to face me, anger flashing in his stormy eyes. "Don't tell me what to do, Warren. You lost the right to have a say in what I do a long time ago."

His bitter words hit like a blow to the solar plexus. "What the fuck are you talking about? What the hell did I ever—"

"Save it!" he snaps. "I don't know what delusions you've cooked up in your head, but leave me the hell out of them."

He moves to storm past me, but I grab his arm. The contact sends a jolt through me, emotions I've tried to bury for too long surging back up. Knight stares at my hand, conflicted. But just as quickly, his face shutters again and he rips his arm away.

"Don’t fucking touch me."

The harsh command feels like a slap. "Why won't you talk to me, Maddox?" I ask helplessly. "We used to—"

"Used to. But things change." His jaw clenches, old grief flashing in his eyes before the shutters come down again. "We're not those dumb kids anymore."

The callous edge to his voice cuts sharper than any skate blade.

"You're right. We've both changed." I step closer, searching those stormy blue depths I used to understand like my own. “But that doesn't erase everything we went through together. Everything we were to each other. You were my best fucking friend. My brother.”

Knight's face twists with pain before he covers it with anger. "Just leave the past where it belongs."

Fuck, Knight Maddox is a stubborn asshole.

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