“‘Put up with’?” he says, his voice a low growl, each word bitten off. “Is that what you call what happened in the locker room last Friday?”
I flinch, my carefully constructed wall of anger cracking.
“How do you even know the name of my painting?” I demand, my voice rising. “This has gone too far. Look, I get it. I realize I crossed a line in the auditorium when I challenged you in front of everyone. But you made your point. I got your message, loud and clear, so you can stop trying to get your revenge on me…”
My tirade trails off.
It’s the way he’s looking at me. His anger seems to have vanished, replaced by a look of utter bewilderment. He looks… stunned. Like I just started speaking a foreign language.
“Wh-what?” I stammer, thrown off balance.
“Nothing,” he says, but his teeth are clenched so hard I can hear them grind. “I’m just amazed, once again, at how blind you are.” He shakes his head slightly, as if to clear it. “Come on. Let’s hurry, or you’ll turn into an icicle.”
Here we go again.He calls me blind again.
He starts walking, and I have no choice but to follow. I do walk faster, though, because a new kind of panic is setting in. He’s walking impossibly close now, his broad shoulder bumping against mine with every other step, sending electric shocks through the layers of my clothing.
And his last words…Let’s hurry…or you’ll turn into an icicle. It sounds like he’s rushing us both to my dorm building because he intends to follow me inside and do something to me there.
And I don’t know if I can stop him. I don’t know if I want to.
My dorm building looms aheadWhen we reach the stone steps leading up to the entrance, I turn on him abruptly, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
“Well, this is me,” I say, trying to sound dismissive. “Good night.” I spin around, ready to bolt up the stairs and lock the door behind me.
I don’t get a single step.
A large hand shoots out and grabs the collar of my jacket, yanking me to a halt. I stumble back against his solid chest.
“Where the hell is your stupid scarf?” Raiden growls, his face grim. “No wonder you’ve been shivering the whole fucking walk.”
I’m so startled by the question that all I can do is stare. “I… lost it,” I snap, trying to pull away, but his grip is firm. “It’s none of your business.” It’s true, though. I am very, very cold. My teeth are starting to chatter.
“Then button up your coat, Patton.” He scowls, his blue eyes narrowed. “No, better yet. Do this.”
Before I can process what’s happening, he’s shrugging off the thick, dark grey scarf from around his own neck. It’s cashmere, I realize with a jolt. Incredibly soft. He lifts his hands and begins to wrap the scarf carefully around my neck. The air is immediately filled with his scent.
His touch is gentle. His huge, calloused hockey player hands, which I’ve seen deliver brutal checks into the boards, are impossibly tender as they tuck the soft wool under my chin.
“Your nose is all red,” he mutters, his voice a low rumble. He fusses with the scarf, making sure it’s snug, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of my neck.
I freeze. I’m afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. This doesn’t fit the narrative. This is… care. And the cognitive dissonance is making my head spin. I’m afraid that if he keeps touching me like this, so gently, I’m going to fall apart. I’m not sure I can resist him, and the temptation is athrilling ache in my chest.
It’s then that I see them.
Down the path, just turning the corner under a lamppost, are three familiar figures. Karolina, Stella, and Cameron, laughing, heading this way. Heading right for us.
Panic seizes me.
My lie.I told him to back off. He listened. I have no intention of ever contacting him again.
And here I am, standing in the dark with him while he wraps his scarf around my neck like he owns me.
They’ll see. They’ll know I lied. They’ll ask questions I don’t have answers for.
Acting on frantic impulse, I grab the sleeve of his heavy winter coat.
“Inside. Now,” I hiss.
