On His Last Nerve

      All his life, Shane Hollander considered himself a very patient and reasonable person. His parents, friends, and teammates would second that in a heartbeat, knowing it was close to impossible for Shane to lose his temper or act on his emotions.       In a game, he was focused, his mind stone cold, and all his attention on the ice. Every move radiated confidence. In real life, though less confident, some would say awkward, but still he always rationalized things and was the voice of reason.       Find the best outcome or the solution for an issue.       Never before had he had a problem with losing his temper over something insignificant.       Never before had he gotten so jealous that he would lose his temper over something insignificant. Especially in public.       Yet, here he was. Doing everything in his power not to strangle the girl who was ready to climb at Ilya like a fucking koala just for him to pay her some attention.       This was ridiculous.       They were in New York, and tomorrow he and Ilya would have to be one of the nomination presenters at some super cool award at which Shane cannot focus right now, exactly because of the view in front of him. Of course, he wasn’t jealous. Why would he? But he found it pretty inappropriate to display this much affection in a public place.       Especially if the second person was clearly not interested.       Sitting at the bar of the hotel where he and Ilya were staying, Shane planned to go for a drink for five minutes max to clear his head and calm down his nerves a little. He definitely was not expecting to stay there for a while, sipping his third Negroni over the last hour, while getting his heart ripped over and over out of his chest because of the scene that was happening just a few feet away from him.       Ilya Rozanov was sitting at the bar with his friend Svetlana and another girl, Amanda. Now, Shane knew Svetlana. Maybe they weren’t friends, but he knew her well enough not to worry that she might have any real interest in his Ilya.       Amanda, on the other hand, was a completely different story.       Ilya talked about her exactly once, and even then, Shane wasn’t her biggest fan. Apparently, Ilya and Amanda met a few years ago through their common friends at a party. They weren’t close, not at all, but occasionally they were hooking up. Again, nothing new, and it was in the past. They were not together, they were… nothing.       Ilya told him that himself. And well, good thing he did, otherwise Shane would get a very wrong idea based on the scene in front of him.       While the Russian player was chatting about something with Svetlana, occasionally taking a sip from his glass, Amanda was staring at him, and Shane wasn’t even sure that the girl had blinked since the moment he spotted them.       The intensity of her gaze was making Shane uncomfortable, and he was sitting a few feet away from her. He couldn’t imagine how unpleasant it must be for Ilya, or even Svetlana. It was strange.       She made him feel strange.       Objectively, she was hot. Not his type, but she wasn’t Ilya Rozanov either, so… Amanda was cute, being 5'2, she looked way taller in her 8-inch heels, and a lean black dress that made her look way taller than her height.       Shane would never have a problem with her if she didn’t lean back on a bar counter, moving her hand on Ilya’s shoulder, while continuing to stare at him. She wasn’t talking. She probably didn’t even listen to what Svetlana was talking about right now.       She was just looking at Ilya, rubbing her hand over his shoulder, and somehow it was so much worse.       Gripping the glass of his drink more tightly, Shane understood that he really needed to take his mind away from this, or he would do something ridiculous. Because there was no logical explanation why he could have anything against the fact that some girl was hitting on Ilya Rozanov. Why would this make his blood boil? They were in a bar, for god’s sake!       Shaen needed to get out of here. Go to his room and forget about this. Go to sleep or something, but stop looking at the girl who was touching what only he could touch.       Taking a deep breath, Shane shook his head.       Ilya wasn’t his. He did not belong to him, despite how much Shane wanted him to. Notwithstanding the fact that Shane wanted to intervene in their discussion, and claim those soft-looking lips that Ilya wouldn’t stop wetting with the tip of his tongue every two-three minutes, Shane knew he couldn’t do that.       For a pretty long list of reasons.       However, the moment Amanda put her hand on Ilya’s thigh, way higher than it was acceptable, Shane lost it. He was on his feet before his brain even registered what was happening, and made his way to the group.       “Hey, Rozanov,” he greeted Ilya, stopping right in front of the man. Perhaps he had imagined that after three Negronis, but he could swear that Ilya looked at him with relief.       “Shane Hollander,” Ilya smiled, leaning back on the bar counter. “Ready for tomorrow?” He asked, tensing a little, when Amanda tightened her grip on his thigh. “You met Svetlana, right? And this is Amanda.”       “Yeah, of course,” he added, nodding to the girls. “Svetlana, nice to see you again. Amanda,” he greeted the girls, but his smile became forced when he turned to Amanda.       Svetlana smiled in return, while Amanda rewarded him with a gaze that probably could turn him into a pile of ashes.       “Got to the hotel okay? Didn’t get lost?” Ilya continued teasingly, receiving a kick at the ribs from Svetlana, and completely ignoring how Amanda clenched her jaw.       Shane got a feeling that she wasn’t his biggest fan.       Well, they were even then.       Chuckling, Shane did everything he could to ignore the intensity of the gaze he was receiving from Amanda, especially after Ilya just smiled at him.       “More than okay,” Shane replied, trying to sound nonchalant, even if he was a nervous wreck without an even hint of a plan for what he was doing.       “Good, good,” Ilya nodded, liking his lips again, and Shane couldn’t help but follow the movement. “I hate flying, my lips are always so dry after the flight,” he complained, tracing his fingers over his lips.       Before Shane could even react, Amanda placed herself between them, opening her small bag.       “I have chapsticks that could help,” she announced, and Shane slowly inhaled through his nose, trying not to snap at this girl, who was pissing him off more and more with each passing second. Ilya clearly wasn’t even talking to her. Why the hell was she trying to get his attention the second Ilya’s eyes would land on him? “Here,” she said, pulling out her hand, palm up, with three chapsticks on it.       Glancing down, everyone took a look at the offered chapsticks, and while Svetlana and Ilya shared a look, Shane couldn’t help but furrow his eyebrows.       “Wait,” Shane started, but Amanda interrupted.       “Those two are mine,” she said, pointing at the ones on her hand. “And this one I found at your place, I have no idea whose it is,” she continued innocently, looking Ilya in the eyes and blinking way too often.       The room went dead silent. Shane could swear he couldn’t hear the music anymore either. Everyone was looking at Amanda, trying to find the right words.       After some seconds, Shane looked at the ‘imposter’ chapstick, a funny feeling in his chest, when the realisation hit him. Shane knew this chapstick. It was invisible to wear, healing all the little cracks on the lips, and had a pleasant hint of mango scent. He knew that damn well because it was his chapstick.       His chapstick he apparently forgot at Ilya’s place the last time he was there. And Amanda stole it!       “I, em,” Ilya started to say, eyes moving from her open palm to each and every person in front of him. “Cho, blin?” he added in Russian, clearly lost for words. (The fuck?)       Not being able to suppress a smug smirk, Amanda looked like a wife who caught her husband cheating. Amanda raised her eyebrows as if waiting for an apology or an explanation, pulling her hand with chapsticks closer to Ilya’s face.       Hah, yeah, right.       Shane really couldn’t wrap his mind around what was happening. But what were the chances that this bitch snuck around Ilya’s place, found some chapstick, knew it wasn’t his, and thought it was okay to take it for herself.       That would be bizarre even for her.       Three Negronis really gave him the confidence boost he needed. Otherwise, he would never bark a laugh, before saying:       “Oh, that’s mine!” he exclaimed, snatching the chapstick from the girl’s hand.       Just to prove his point, he applied it, looking her right in the eyes.       The silence was so loud, it was ringing in his ears, while his heart was hammering in his chest.       “I, well,” Amanda stumbled over her words, looking lost and confused.       “Wait,” Svetlana interjected, waving with her hands. “So the last time we hung out together, you snuck out, looked around his place, found a new chapstick, and instead of asking him, or, you know, ignore it, you took it, kept it for two weeks, waiting for the right moment to make a claim about it?” she said slowly, revealing the whole story, and oh well, it didn’t look good for her. “Amanda, what the hell!?” Svetlana exclaimed exactly what everybody was thinking.       “Why would you even do that?” Ilya asked, wrinkling his nose and furrowing his eyebrows.       “This is super strange,” Shane muttered, and Amanda looked at him so fast she could have pulled a nerve or something. Not like Shane cared.       “It’s not strange,” Amanda argued, stamping her foot.       Snorting, Shane crossed his hands over his chest.       “And why do you think it is okay to touch something that clearly does not belong to you?” he asked, looking at her up and down.       In doing so, he missed the knowing look Svetlana sent to Ilya, while Rozanov smirked, covering it in his glass with vodka.       “Why the fuck were you there!?” Amanda exclaimed, in acquisition, stabbing Shane with her finger.       “I invited him,” Ilya shrugged nonchalantly, and the girl gave him a look full of betrayal.       “We were practicing our speech for tomorrow’s event,” Shane added the first thing that came to his mind.       “Yeah, and we really need to practice more,” Ilya continued and stood up. “Now, if you will excuse us,” he said, and pointed at the elevator. “Hollander, we still need to discuss one moment, let’s go,” he added, throwing a few dollar bills on the table to cover their and Shane’s bill.       “Ilya, I-” Amanda started, but the man silenced her with a wave of his hand.       “Not now, Amanda,” he said, turning to Svetlan. “I will text you later, goodnight.”       “Have fun,” she winked, before switching to Russian to talk with Amanda.       Shane also waved goodbye, but before he could say anything, he noticed that Ilya was almost halfway through the bar, on his way to the elevator, so he hurried to catch up.       Having no idea what Ilya wanted to talk about, Shane couldn’t stop the panic that rose in his chest. While they were in the elevator, they didn’t talk. The silence wasn’t tense, but Shane would prefer it more if Ilya would at least look at him.       By the time the elevator stopped and they entered the right floor, Shane Hollander was a mess. He replayed the whole interaction, which lasted less than his very first blow job with Ilya, over and over in his mind, trying to guess if he said anything that would make Ilya mad.       God, Ilya was mad, wasn’t he? That’s why he didn’t talk to him over the last few minutes. He was mad, and now he-       “So, Hollander,” Ilya started, after they reached the door to his room, making Shane jump from the sound of his voice. “Didn’t take you for the jealous type,” he chuckled.       Shane choked on his indignation.       “What? I wasn’t jealous!” Shane argued, crossing his arms over his chest in defence.       Like this would prove his point.       “No?” Ilya arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “Then what was that?”       “Nothing, I just took what belonged to me,” the man shrugged, avoiding looking Ilya in the eyes.       “Did you now,” Ilya replied, looking amused.       “I did.”       It was silent again, and then Ilya made a step into Shane’s space.       “And how did it make you feel?” Ilya asked, voice full of curiosity. “Felt good, showing everyone what belongs to you?” he asked, with a familiar smirk playing on his lips.       It was the moment Shane knew that Ilya looked right through him. There was no point in denying, because, like it or not, Ilya Rozanov already knew everything.       He followed with his eyes as Ilya pulled out the key to his room, swiping the lock.       “Very. I felt powerful,” Shane shrugged, like it was not a big deal. Like admitting this didn’t make Shane’s blood boil.       But this time, not from jealousy.       Chuckling, Ilya finally unlocked the door of his room, and as he pressed the doorknob, he turned his head to Shane with a smirk.       And then asked with a wink, finally opening the door.       “Yeah? Wanna show me how much?”