Never Ever

39| Ever exposed

Before I fully register what's happening, Pax is yanked out of the water and whirled around to confront Noah's wrath. I swiftly shift to the other side of the hot tub, face shielded, desperate to stay out of their fireline.

"You have three seconds," Noah says before grabbing Pax's arm, "to convince me you weren't just forcing yourself on my fucking girlfriend."

My heart pounds as I bounce my gaze between the two. It's hard to know what shocks me more: Noah calling me his girlfriend or him thinking Pax and I were up to something.

"He wasn't forcing himself on me," I say, about to stand up before realizing I'm essentially topless. I sink down again, straining my neck to look at them both. "He's just ridiculously drunk and wanted to nap." I turn to Pax for backup, but he's too busy scanning the side of the hot tub for his beer. This kid does not help himself.

Noah relaxes slightly, but his jaw remains a hard, solid line. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asks, looking me over.

I nod, the rest of my response cut off when Pax loses his balance, almost falling face-first into the water. Sighing, Noah reaches to steady him, and Pax, in what I can only assume is out of confusion, swings like he's being attacked. His fist catches Noah, who stumbles back and clutches the side of his jaw.

"Pax, stop," I say, moving to intervene, but it's too late, like stopping a car crash when both cars are hell-bent on accelerating.

With a sudden burst of anger, Noah lunges feet-first into the hot tub, twisting his body until he's grabbed hold of Pax, then lands a rapid strike to his jaw. Another blow follows, this time to Pax's chest.

"Noah, let him go," I plead, but there's no stopping things now, only dodging the impact. I scuttle to the side, my transparent bra making escape impossible. Water sloshes over the sides as their shouts of anger pull a crowd around us, trapping me exactly where I don't want to be: half-naked and stuck between two drunk, testosterone-filled Calbears.

In one swift move, Noah advances on Pax, one hand firmly around his throat while the other holds off his flailing arms. He glares at me from over his shoulder, urgent and sharp. "Blue, get out of the fucking hot tub."

The anger in his voice makes me physically recoil. I cower in the corner, covering my chest and waiting for somebody Jesse-sized to come along and stop this before I end up with a fist to the face.

Spotting the commotion first, Carter shoves through the crowd and tries to intervene by pulling Noah away from Pax. But his effort backfires, and he's flung into the tub with us, sending water everywhere. I cough, tasting chlorine, and quickly rub the water from my eyes.

"Anybody who's not a Calbear needs to get the fuck out!" Jesse roars from somewhere in the distance. "Before I call the fucking cops."

The crowd disperses as if Zeus himself has spoken. Most head to the elevator and stairs while Jesse and some teammates hurry the remaining few out. I turn to watch Noah, Carter, and Pax still fighting, jerking back as a leg narrowly misses me.

"Noah, let go of him," Carter growls, trying his hardest to bear-hug him. "We're supposed to be a fucking team."

He's right, and it has only occurred to me that this is the second time Noah has fought with a teammate, which is the biggest sin you can commit as a captain. The second Coach catches wind of this, that's it. Noah's time as captain is done. That's when it hits me:  the thought of him losing what's most important feels just as terrifying as if I were losing it myself.

Turning to Noah, I watch as Carter successfully holds him back. He's calmed down a little; I can see it in his face, but his eyes still blaze with fury. I just hope, pray, that what happened with the Calbears tonight won't ruin their chances tomorrow.