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My attraction to him after everything that happened is fucking concerning.
“Want to watch it together?” Blake touches my arm, startling me, and I yelp.
Michael has crossed the whole parking lot without noticing us, even with Blake’s incessant chattering, but the instant I yelp, he whips around and homes in on us.
He looks me up and down, a sharpness flickering in his eyes. Then, walking backward, facing us, he lifts two fingers to his forehead in a lazy salute. “If I’d known the Ice Queen herself would grace us with her presence today, I would’ve brought gifts. Or at least bowed properly. My bad.”
The mocking tone. The fake smile. The way his gaze lingers like he’s daring me to react. It all hits harder than I want to admit. It’s like he’s punishing me for the mistakes I made years ago.
Heat crawls up my neck, but I force my shoulders loose, putting on a sweet smile like his words haven’t sliced me open. “Relax,” I murmur. “No gifts required. But I get why you’re confused. My silence must’ve bruised your ego. Didn’t realize you needed my attention so badly, Pretty Boy.”
His steps falter, and I use the opportunity to pass him, dragging Blake into the building by her hand. To her credit, she keeps silent until we step into our suite.
But the second the lock clicks behind us, she slips off her shoes and says, “So you do know Michael.”
Bottom lip trapped between my teeth, I contemplate how to respond. Then, I shake my head. “I did know him. Now? I’d prefer to never see him again.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
i just want to watch
MICHAEL
Nineteen years old
“Is it just me, or was Coach way harder on us than usual?” Asher sits next to me in nothing but his briefs, his skin still damp because the damn guy can’t dry off after a shower. With a towel thrown over his head, he leans back against his closed locker.
I pull on my jeans. “It’s just you. Practice was—”
“I’m not asking you.” He opens one eye and gives me a piercing look. “You are not human.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I yank a tee from my duffel bag.
“Vaughn is right,” Diego Flores, our goalie, says. “It was tough, and Coach was harder on us than usual.”
“Just a bit,” I argue, pulling my shirt over my head.
A collective groan rumbles through the room, and one of the guys yells out, telling me to shut up. Whatever. I’m not tired. Once I drop my things at the dorm, I plan to take my bike out. It’s become my new norm over the last two weeks: me and the road every night for an hour or two. Between that and extra practice, I’ve been sleeping like a log. No dreams, no thoughts, and, most importantly, almost zero chance of bumping into Isla.
The Ice Queen is usually in bed by nine, so that’s when I hop on my bike. I only know because I overheard her roommate talking to a blonde about Isla’s routine. It’s not because I’m keeping tabs on her or anything.
I thread my fingers through my hair and survey Ash, who’s still leaned back against his locker, half-naked. To get his attention, I kick his calf. “Do you need a ride or not? I’m not going to wait forever.”
He drags the towel off his head and peers up at me. “No. I have plans.”
“Plans?”
“Yup.”
I tilt my head. “And what are those?”
Avoiding eye contact, he says, “You’re exceptionally nosy for someone who usually doesn’t give a damn about what I do.” He digs into his bag and retrieves his sweatpants. “I’m meeting someone for a drink.”
My body locks up, and I glare at him.
Finally, like he can feel my scrutiny, he focuses on me, though his expression is easy. He’s always been an over-sharer, so by being vague like this, I know exactly who he’s meeting.
“Seriously? Guess you’re not afraid she’ll shut you out the moment you say or do something wrong.”
