But none of that comes out.
And for some, demented reason, I can’t think of anything I’d want to do more than kiss Peyton Clarke right here on the ice.
“Just do it, Clarke.”
She doesn’t wait another beat. No hesitation, no delicate tap-in. This isn’t some polite peck. This is a sudden death overtime kind of kiss. A full-on declaration of unequivocal intent.
Her mouth crashes against mine, and whatever air I believed I was holding onto slips right through me. The ice beneath might as well be a tropical beach, because the frost is gone, melted away by the scorching, delirious heat of her body.
This isn’t just a game anymore. This is a high-stakes, breathless showdown. A winner-takes-all kind of exchange. Every argument, every witty barb,thisis the culmination. This is sudden death, and like I said before, I don’t like to lose.
Twenty
Peyton
I’m not much of a reader. Ever since I could walk, hockey’s been pretty much the only thing on my mind. But last year, Bailey loved a book so much that she practically begged Harlowe and me to read it. Harlowe flat-out refused, but I forced myself through it. It wasn’t bad, really. It just wasn’t easy to focus when I kept thinking about all the time I could’ve spent practicing. But it made Bailey happy, so I powered through.
I don’t remember the title or even the plot, honestly. All I remember is that there were two people who hated each other… and then they kissed. Why am I bringing this up? Because it wasbullshit.After that kiss, they fell to the ground, all desperately, turning into some messy, hot, wet bundle of… well,smut. Basically.
They had sex, is what I’m getting at.
Want to know what actually happens?
“I—umh—” I stutter as Darcy pulls herself off me, helping me to my feet. Her freckled cheeks are flushed, lips still glisteningin the pale light. The back of my head tingles where her fingers had gripped my hair, my lips still throbbing with the heat of her kiss. A kiss that was mine, until she stole it. Until she turned it into hers. We both just stand there, blinking at each other awkwardly.
It’s not that it was a bad kiss.
In fact, it was everything I hoped it wouldn’t be.
I hoped it would be one of those awkward “whoops” moments you laugh about later. I hoped it would convince me that the weird tightening in my chest didn’t mean what I thought it did. That the flutter in my stomach was just a result of too much caffeine and sugar, and not because I actually wanted to kiss her. That I wanted her to kiss me back.
Motherfucker.
“Sorry,” Darcy says, looking at me awkwardly. I’ve messed this up. I don’t know how, but I’ve messed it up. I’ve kissed a lot of people. Hell, I kissed Kai like four weeks ago. It’s always been fun. Easy. People say I’m good at it. But with Darcy? The beat’s been thrown off.
The moment my lips touched hers, I knew I was done for. It didn’t feel easy. It felt like the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done. It felt like a challenge, one I’m not quite sure I won. And it felt… good.Too good.And now, I have no fucking clue what to do.
I shake my head, heart pounding in my chest. “What? Why are you sorry?”
Darcy shrugs, making her way off the ice. “I don’t know.” She hitches a shoulder. “You just seem…upset.So I guess—”
“Upset?”I frown, staggering behind her. When Darcy first stepped back on the ice, she looked like a baby deer learning to walk for the first time. Now, guess who’s Bambi? “I’m not upset. I just… didn’t expect that.”
Darcy plops onto the bench, quickly untying her skates. Or, Harlowe’s skates. She’ll never know they were gone. Her eyes flick to meet mine, a confused “v” etched in her brow. “You’re the one who asked.”
I shrug sheepishly, bending down to untie my own skates because sitting next to her right now feels like the wrong move. If I sit next to her, I might want to kiss her again.
Who am I kidding? I want to kiss her again anyway.
“Yeah, I know,” I say hesitantly.What the hell is wrong with me?Darcy quirks a brow as she watches me fumble with my laces.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“What?No!” I take off my beanie, running a hand through my hair. Why is it wet? “You didn’t do anything wrong. You did it right.Veryright. I’m just—” I suck in another breath. “I’m just feeling overheated. Are you overheated?”
Darcy blinks at me, then holds up a gloved hand. “Well given that it’s thirty-nine degrees and my circulation system is about as effective as a plastic spork—”
“Right.” I force an awkward smile. Darcy eyes me skeptically, then pushes herself off the bench.
