Page 10 of Icebound Attraction

“Oh, Chase, you didn't have to do that!” I reply sarcastically, leaving him to his customers.

Back in my room, I toss the papers unenthusiastically onto my desk. Yes, I should probably go through them and get ready for the next exam... But jogging around campus suddenly seems more fun.

Like an automaton, I slip on my running shoes and head out the door. Learning can wait!

The steady sound of my footsteps on the asphalt has a soothing effect and I can feel the fog dissipating in my head. But it's Emily's face that superimposes itself on my thoughts. Sitting by the window, laughing with her friend, her blue eyes were literally glowing. Her blond hair begging to be held in one hand, her greedy mouth destined for a kiss, or more...

Fuck, I'm going off the rails. I'm getting a boner just thinking about that little journalist!

I try to shake it out of my head. As this doesn't help, I increase my running speed, and finally, my salacious thoughts escape.

Back at the dorm, I'm completely out of breath. But I feel liberated and slightly exhausted. All I need now is a hot shower, and I can get down to the lessons Chase has been giving me.

Sitting at my desk, I stare at the pile of papers. It all looks like Chinese to me. Damn it... I'm in big trouble... Maybe a few snippets will stick in my brain if I just copy it down?

I grab a pen and look at the clock. Training started a while ago and I feel out of place just sitting at my desk. I just want to be on the ice right now... If I can't do what I love, I feel incomplete.

Pissed off, I head for the fridge and grab a beer. I can't even call one of my buddies, as they're all on their skates. Resigned, I pull out my cell phone and call my mom. We may not have the best relationship in the world, but somehow, she knows how to be there when I need her.

“Liam, shouldn't you be at practice?” she asks immediately, sighing.

“Hi, Mom, I'm fine, thanks for asking. How are you and my wonderful sisters?” I answer in my most innocent tone.

“What have you done now?” she insists.

“Nothing at all! The coach just wanted me to stop today so I could concentrate on my studies, because I've got exams coming up.”

A little white lie.

There is a short silence.

“Well, I'm relieved. I thought something had happened.”

We chat for a while longer and I notice that I'm starting to feel a little better. My mother has always had a way of triggering a feeling of well-being in me that makes all the dark clouds disappear. There's only one subject we avoid at all costs: my professional future. She's not a big fan of the fact that I want to pursue a career in ice hockey. And since discussions on this subject always end in an argument, we don't talk about it anymore.

When there's a sudden knock on my door, I put an end to our conversation and get up to open the door. Before me stands Chase with a black eye. I burst out laughing and let him in.

“I forbid you to say anything,” he says.

He heads for the freezer of my little fridge and pulls out a bag of frozen peas. It's essential for athletes like us to always have these on hand. Then he throws himself onto the sofa. Smiling, I pour him a beer and sit down next to him to toast.

After a moment's silence, he finally speaks.

“Training without you sucks!”

To which I respond by laughing out loud again.

“Sorry, man! Won't happen again.”

We stay a while, enjoying the familiar silence.

Chase and I have been friends since kindergarten. He's like a brother to me. We've been through so much together and can count on each other one hundred percent. His bisexuality hasn't been easy for him to deal with, especially in the ‘sports world’, but I support him 100% and would break the bones of anyone who picked on him because he likes men as much as women. We're past that these days, and everyone should focus on their own desires. I know that in return, he'll always have my back.

“At practice, there was a pretty blonde looking for you. Have you been breaking hearts again?” he suddenly asks, waggling his eyebrows.

My heart beats a little faster, but I don't let on.

“What size bra?” I ask, looking deceptively casual.

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