“Okay…” She trails off, then begins walking. “I’m gonna head back to the cabin now.”
I nod, way too enthusiastically, then dial it back as I finally pry off my skates. “Okay! Yeah. Sounds good.” I pause, internally kicking myself. “I’m gonna head back to mine too, so…”
Darcy turns to face me.
“Peyton,” she says, folding her arms over her chest. When my eyes catch those emerald jewels, I swear I let out a squeak.
“Hmm?”
“We’re sharing a cabin.”
The realization hits me just as quickly as the cold pavement hits my feet. I reach for my shoes, not caring that the back of mysneakers cave in as I shove my feet on top of them. A nervous laugh escapes me.
“I knew that,” I say, even though clearly in the heat of the moment, I had forgotten. “I was just joking.”
Darcy stares at me with an unconvinced expression. “Okay. Well, if you want, I can go to my mom’s cabin. She won’t—”
“Pshhh.” I wave a dismissive hand, heat creeping into my cheeks as I try to remember how normal people stand. “That’s really not necessary. The more the merrier!”
The more the merrier?
What the fuck?
Darcy’s lips press together, but the corners of them sink in a little, almost like she’s holding back a smile.
Of course she is, that masochist. This is probably her dream come true, watching me crumble into a flustered, anxious wreck. This has never happened to me before. The only time I have ever felt as stressed as this is before my games, and even that is easier because it’s only one feeling. One sensation. This is like—a collage of everything good and everything bad in the world.
“Alright, then I’ll walk with you.” She offers.
Of course she will.
I don’t bother to fix my shoes. I just swoop my skates and stick into my hands, and shuffle over to her like my legs are bound with wire. She studies me but doesn’t say anything as we make our way back to the cabin.
This is karma. I can’t even pity myself, because this is exactly what I deserve after what I pulled. I thought I was being helpful. Hell, up until we kissed, I was confident that I was successful. And while that may be true, so is this:
I kissed Darcy Cole.
And I liked it.
Darcy hops up the steps first, dropping her skates and stick on the porch. I set mine beside them, putting my gloves downtoo, as my heart hammers in my chest. She steps through the front door, and this is ridiculous, I should really calm down, but instead I snatch my water bottle off the ledge.
“I’m just gonna fill this up,” I say, gesturing to it. Darcy gives me an amused nod, tugging off her earmuffs.
“Alright.”
“Okay.”
We stand there for a moment, just staring at each other, until finally, I turn, ready to bolt down the steps. But before I can make another move, something grabs my wrist. Darcy’s fingers tighten around me and before I can even process what’s happening, I’m spun back into her chest.
And then, her lips crash into mine.
For a second—just a fleeting second—my body freezes. But then, her hand slides to the back of my neck and she pulls me in. And suddenly, I’m in the book.
I’m the melting, shirt-grabbing, desperately panting love interest, and Darcy is shoving the door open behind her, still kissing me as she stumbles backward toward the bed.
The mature thing—thecaptainlything—to do would be to stop.
But I think we’ve already established that maturity isn’t always my strong suit. And besides, I could be the most professional person on the planet, and still, nothing could convince me this isn’t worth it.
