Spite Crush (Rock Hard #2)

Chapter Four

~Zak~

“What the hell is going on tonight?” I asked the security guard as he approached my car.

“Concert,” he answered. “Some shitty rock band.”

Oh hell. I’d been so distracted by the fact that I’d left my fucking wallet in my locker, that I’d totally forgotten who was playing the arena that night.

“Fantastic,” I muttered .

“Player’s lot is open,” the guard assured me as he raised the gate to allow me through. “And I don’t think anyone is downstairs, so you should be able to get in without trouble.”

“Thanks.” I waved as I rolled up the window and drove down to the private lot reserved for players and arena staff.

If I’d have remembered the fucking concert, I’d have sent someone to get my stuff for me. But as long as the guard was correct and no one was in the player’s area, no one had to know I’d shown up .

I should have known about the concert. Naomi had sent me the link to her story about HSF and that Kellen asshole spouting off about me. She’d probably been skulking around the arena, hoping to get access to him, which she clearly had.

She’d asked if I wanted to respond and I’d been so fucking tempted, but I didn’t. I knew I needed to take a beat before I went off. So I’d just left her on read. But as I walked into the stadium and felt the steady thumping of bass coming from upstairs, I sort of wished I’d said something .

Honestly, I didn’t even understand why this guy was getting under my skin. I didn’t actually care about him being at the game. He was just some stupid rock star. At first I’d thought he was attention seeking, but after a cursory Google search of him I had to admit that he probably got plenty of attention as it was.

His band was insanely popular. Like…maybe how the Beatles must have been in the sixties. I’d never heard of HSF, but I seemed to be in the minority. They’d sold out the arena, which was something the In ferno hadn’t managed to do in decades.

None of which gave him the right to call me aging. I’m twenty-eight. Four years older than Kellen Fox. Punk ass.

Insanely sexy punk ass. Which also irritated me. What right did he have to walk around looking the way he did? I’d noticed it at the game, too. But some of those model shots of him on the internet had actually made my dick twitch.

I hadn’t gone so far as to actually listen to the music, wanting to keep deniability if asked about it again. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t occasionally stare at pictures of the lead singer. You know, if I was bored or something.

Whatever. It was his night and I’d let him have it. Tomorrow, after I had time to either cool off or come up with something truly vicious, I’d reach out to Naomi for another quote.

Because actually upset or not…publicity was publicity. And if he wanted to keep this going, I wasn’t about to back down. My contract was up for negotiation after this season. So if I took the team to the finals and kept my name in the press, I was sure to get my extension and maybe even be able to retire from the team I started with.

I walked into the locker room, feeling just a little bit better about the situation but stopped short at the sight of Kellen Fox, sitting on the bench in front of my locker.

Suddenly, all thoughts of cooling it disappeared and anger bubbled up from absolutely nowhere. He wasn’t supposed to be here. This was my space. He had an arena full of people to shower him with adoration, he didn’t need to bring his presence into my place again.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I snapped. “You have no right to come into my town and start running your mouth about me.”

“Shut up,” he hissed, looking up at me for a moment before leaning forward and fisting his trembling fingers into his shaggy hair. “Please. I mean, you’re right, and I’m sorry. But can you just not?”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my anger turning to worry in the space of a heartbeat. I hadn’t noticed at first, but he was doubled over as if he were in pain. “Are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” he snapped, finally meeting my gaze. His eyes were wide and bright with unshed tears. “Please, just get out.”

I watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest, took in the vibration of his legs, and realized that he definitely wasn’t okay.

He looked like he was in the middle of a full-blown panic attack.

“Do you know what box breathing is?” I asked as I lowered myself to my knees next to him and rested my hands on his thighs, pressing down gently to try to get him to stop bouncing his feet against the floor. We could fight later. If he didn’t calm down he was going to pass out.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Shut up,” I told him. “Breathe with me. In for a count of four, hold for four, exhale for four, hold for four.”

His gaze dropped to my lips as I demonstrated the technique for him and after a few rounds, he followed my example, the tension in his body deflating almost immediately .

“Keep going,” I said softly. “Just focus on your breathing. Nothing else matters. It’s just you and me in here. You’re safe. You and me. Okay?”

He nodded as he continued to breathe in and out slowly, his gaze shifting from my mouth back to my eyes and holding it there.

Goddamnit. He really was beautiful. And he smelled so fucking good. Every time I inhaled, the scent of his cologne flooded my sinuses, the smell like ocean saltwater washing over me .

His hands slid over mine where they still rested on his thighs and I splayed my fingers, allowing his to slip between them before squeezing gently. And still we sat there, breathing in rhythm together, gazes locked as if we were both in a trance. All thoughts of our weird little feud disappeared in that moment. My concern for him hitting me out of nowhere until nothing mattered but getting him regulated again.

It took a few minutes, but I could feel the tension sliding out of him and as his body relaxed, his eyes lost the look of terror they’d been holding and his tears dried without falling.

But we just kept sitting there, our hands clasped, breathing together, gazes locked. I was almost afraid to speak, afraid to break the spell. Unfortunately, Kellen didn’t seem to have the same problem.

“Why do you know how to do that?” he asked softly.

“We have a couple guys on the team with anxiety issues,” I explained. “Tensions run high before games, and sometimes between periods. So I learned what to do to help them calm down.” I realized I was still kneeling in front of him, still holding his hands and the reality of our situation came rushing back to the forefront of my mind. I released my hold on him and pushed myself to my feet. “But don’t start thinking I’m a nice guy,” I warned him. “And I’m still pissed at you.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” he assured me. “I’m still mad at you, too.” He blew out a sigh as he met my gaze. “But, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I nodded, suddenly feeling very awkward as I stood looking down at him. “I should get going.”

He got to his feet and reached out, gently wrapping his hand around my wrist as if to keep me from walking away.

“Do you want to stay for the show? I could get you a good seat.”

“You couldn’t fucking pay me to listen to your noise,” I promised him with a smirk. But the shot didn’t seem to have any effect on him and he just stood there staring up at me. He was probably close to six feet tall, but he looked so small standing there. Granted, I’m six-four and two hundred pounds, so most people looked small next to me. But it wasn’t about his appearance. It was the lost, scared look in his eyes. The way he seemed to be drowning in timidity as he held my gaze. It was infuriating the way it made me want to wrap my arms around him. “Are you sure you’re okay now?”

“I’m fine,” he said, nodding. “It happens before shows sometimes.”

“Don’t you have medication?”

His hand was still holding my arm, and I hated how much I liked it. His skin was soft and warm and I was afraid if I called attention to the fact that he was touching me he might stop. And for some reason, I didn’t want that. Not yet. I wanted him to use to me to steady himself. Liked the way it made me feel.

“Of course I do,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I forgot to take it.”

“You forgot?” Jesus Christ this kid was really something. Who the hell forgets to take necessary medication? “You know what, not my problem. Good luck tonight. Break a leg. ”

“Why do I think you mean that literally?” He chuckled as he released me but then he grabbed me again, harder this time. “Dempsey?”

“Yeah?” I hadn’t even twitched to move yet, so his firmer grip surprised me. Did he actually want me to stay? What the fuck was happening right now?

“Are we done sniping at each other?”

“Not a chance.” I grinned at him. “This is too much fun.”

And it was. Something might have shifted between us, but that didn’t mean we were suddenly going to drop this little feud. It truly was going to benefit both of us in the long run. So why the hell would we stop now?

“You’re not going to tell—”

“Whoa.” I cut him off, covering his hand with mine and squeezing gently. Damn, this guy clearly had more issues than Sports Illustrated if he thought I would run to tell people he nearly had a breakdown before his show. “I’m not that big of an asshole. Personal shit is off limits,” I assured him. “Professional beef only. ”

“Music and hockey.” The tension in his face disappeared, replaced by a smile that…I swear to fuck…lit up the locker room. Who the hell was this guy? “I can live with that.”

We stood there for a moment staring at each other again. The tension between us was shifting and as my heart started racing in my chest, I wondered if I were on my way to my own panic attack.

I wanted to kiss him. And he looked like he wanted to absolutely eat me .

“I’d better get upstairs,” he whispered. “Someone is going to come looking for me.”

“Someone should have already been with you,” I said, a bite of anger in my tone.

“Someone was.” He gave me another soft smile and backed away. “See you around, Dempsey.”

“See you, Fox.”

He brushed past me and headed for the tunnels leading up to the arena and I watched the hallway until his feet were no longer visible, then sank down onto the bench he’d vacated.

It was good that he’d left. Good that I hadn’t given in to the urge to kiss him. Not that I was totally sure it would have been reciprocated. Or even welcomed. It had been a strange situation. I was glad I’d been able to help him but now we could just move on with our lives.

Maybe I wouldn’t call Naomi. Maybe he was right and I should just let everything die down. Because if we kept chirping at each other, the pressure to publicly make up would be too strong. And I knew that if I ended up in the same room as Kellen Fox again, I might not have the willpower to resist changing our dynamic.

I didn’t know his orientation, but I recognized the look he’d given me. It was the same one I knew I’d been giving him. And if I wanted to keep my life private, I wasn’t going to be able to do that with a rock star who was even more famous than I was.

No, the Kellen and Zak show ended right here. Right now .

I huffed out a sigh as I stood up again and turned to my locker, grabbing my wallet and sliding it into my pocket before slamming the door shut.

This was for the best.

Upstairs, the music started again and while I couldn’t make out much beyond the bass rolling through the building and the roar of the crowd, I knew that Kellen was going to be great tonight.

For just a moment I considered going up there. But it was his night and the odds of me getting in and out of that concert unseen were practically nonexistent. So I turned and walked out of the building, leaving him to do his job unbothered by me.

For now.