Page 67 of Icebound Attraction

I put down my phone and Chase toasts with me again. It promises to be an unforgettable night, and I'm determined to enjoy every minute of it. For once, we can give ourselves a little respite before getting right back into it!

Time flies and before you know it, it's midnight. The bar is still full, the music is blaring and the mood seems to have reached its peak. After a while, I notice a few women paying attention to us. Attempts to approach us are obvious. Interest is perceptible in their eyes. However, despite all the commotion around us, my thoughts turn to Emily. I gently decline their advances and turn back to my beer.

Chase looks at me and laughs.

“Brother, what's wrong with you?”

I smile.

“What's wrong with me? Can't I have a quiet party with my best friend?”

Chase nods and smiles in return.

“Yes, of course!” he replies.

An hour later, as we make our way back to campus, the city lights surround us in a soft glow. You'd think the night was endless. We stagger slowly, laughing over anecdotes.

“And remember when Mrs. Marshall forced us to clean up her yard?” exclaims Chase.

“Yes, I remember! Ugh! You decided to play with your father's leaf blower, and you got it absolutely everywhere!”

“You dared me to do it and I...”

Suddenly, out of the shadows, a silhouette blocks our path.

“What the...”

Adrenalin rushes through my veins as I notice the glint of a screwdriver in the hand of the guy facing us.

“Give me your money, right now!” he growls.

Chase and I exchange a brief glance. We agree: surrendering without a fight is out of the question! We've been through so much already - we're not going to be intimidated by a thief, especially on our night of celebration. Besides, there are two of us, and we're both pretty hefty and younger than he is.

Unluckily, we forgot to take into account that we're completely drunk...

Without hesitation, we pounce on him, trying to wrest the screwdriver from his hands. But his resistance is more violent than expected and we find ourselves in a chaotic brawl.

Pain grips me as his fist lands in my stomach, but my resolve remains intact. Chase fights in his own way and we both try to stand up to our attacker. Clearly, we're dealing with a professional, and in a millisecond of inattention, he manages to wriggle free and knock us down one after the other with a powerful blow. My head hits the asphalt and I struggle to stay conscious.

The thief takes our wallets out of our jacket pockets and runs off.

What the hell?

Slowly, I get to my feet, staggering and staring angrily at his shadow around the corner.

As I fumble with my jacket to see what he's taken from me, I feel a liquid warming my belly. Anger turns to horror as I realize it's my blood. The screwdriver has hit my arm as well as my belly, but it seems to have rippled, and I've got a nasty gash running down to my hip. I'm also bleeding from my forehead, where I fell. The pain intensifies by the minute, and I swallow.

“Fucking asshole... Chase? Chase, are you okay?”

I turn to my best friend, still lying on the ground. He's breathing heavily, and his T-shirt is turning crimson where he’s been hit.

“Shit! Chase!”

I throw myself on my knees beside him and he smiles at me with difficulty.

“We're really good at fighting, aren't we. If we tell this story, we'll have to turn it to our advantage!”

“How are you feeling?” I ask, worried to see him so pale.

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