Page 43 of Ice Me Baby

He throws his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ll fuckin leave then.” He growls and turns to skate away.

I point at him, not that he can see it, as I shout, “Don’t you dare skate off! We are not done here, Lewis.”

“Yeah, we are.” He huffs and moves to skate away.

“Lewi!” I yell.

“FUCK OFF, ELIZABETH!” he bellows.

Oh hell no. He did not just do that. No one uses that tone with me. I spent far too many years letting a boy disrespect me. It will be a cold day in hell before I let this man do the same. “Dean Lewis, you better stop right now!” I command loudly.

“Or what?!”

“Don’t make me get on this ice.”

He continues to skate the other direction, but at least he’s moving slower than before. “Just go away! You don’t actually care; all you want is Oli’s dick and maybe even mine! You don’t care. All you’re going to do is use us, then walk away. So fuck off!” he roars; his chest heaving.

I jerk back as if he’d slapped me with those words. Use them? When have I ever given them that impression. I’m about to say ‘fuck it’ and ‘fuck all the way off’ when Mac’s words reply in my brain.He’s going to say things he doesn’t mean. He’s going to regret his words while trying to push you away.Yeah, his words hurt, and they do make me want to walk away. But… that’s exactly what he wants, isn’t it?

Swallowing down the hurt I feel, I march toward him. Walking on ice in tennis shoes takes skill and practice and isn’t altogether the smartest idea, but that doesn’t matter to me right now. I need to knock some sense into the hockey player before me. “I’m going to kick your ass for that.”

He looks over his shoulder and slides to a stop. He looks confused when he turns to skate in my direction. “What the hell are you doing?”

I’m trying to focus on my footing, so I don’t eat shit and bruise my ass. “Apparently, being a woman of action and refusing to take your shit.” The moment he’s close enough, I slap him across the face before cupping his cheeks with my hands. It’s a bit difficult and a little awkward, considering he’s tall to begin with, and now he’s got the added height from his skates.

His gaze meets mine and he asks again, “What are you doing?”

“Being your friend.” I sigh. “Stop pushing me away. I’m not going to do this hot and cold with you. Either you want to be my friend or not.”

He looks lost as his eyes flick over my face before he whispers, “I’m scared.”

“Of what?” I ask softly.

“You seeing how much of a fuck up I am.”

My brows knit as I argue, “You’re not a fuck up, Dean.”

“I am… I have to prove to you that I’m not.”

I pull his face down to my own, so we are now eye level. I put every bit of conviction I feel into my voice. “You havenothingto prove to me. Nothing at all. You are not a fuck up, and there is nothing wrong with you. No one is perfect, and if anyone says they are, they’re lying.”

He takes a few breaths before asking in a hushed tone, “Can I hug you?”

The question catches me off guard, but I nod. “Yeah… Of course.” I feel tiny when he wraps his arms around me, holding on tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into my neck.

His body is shaking in my arms, and I give him a squeeze as I reply, “I’ll forgive you, as long as you never full-name me again. It was really weird hearing you call me Elizabeth.”

His body relaxes slightly, and he chuckles softly. “Done.”

“Also, if you ever talk to me like that again, know that I’ll do worse than slap you across the face.” I threaten with a snort.

“I would deserve it.”

“Do you want to skate a little longer?” I ask.

He shakes his head and pulls away. “Let’s go home.”

---