Page 96 of Ice Bet

“Is that—”

“Yes,” Aasher and I answered at the same time.

Berkley threw Aasher’s practice jersey into his room, and my stomach filled with nerves.

“Not a word,” Asher warned everyone, walking over to the door.

“What is your plan?” Ford whispered, stumbling over his shoes that were in the middle of the floor.

I didn’t have one, but by the look of pure fear on Aasher’s face, I hoped someone else did, because his confidence from last night was clearly wobbly with my dad’s booming voice on the other side of the door. It hurt to see the shame on his face, and I definitely didn’t like knowing that I was part of the reason it was there.

“Take whatever you’re thinking and throw it right out of your head,” Aasher said to me. “I don’t regret it.”

“You will if he finds out,” Berkley stated, edging his head to the door.

“Jesus. Follow my lead, you lovesick puppies. I’ve got this.” Ford smoothed out his wrinkled shirt as he walked over to the door. He lowered his voice. “Riley, go make us breakfast.”

My jaw slacked. “Excuse me?”

“It’s part of the plan!” he urged. “I’ll take you for pancakes later to make up for bossing you around.”

I eyed him but did as he said. Aasher sat across from me, slightly amused at myobedience.

The door opened, and my dad walked in with his eyes pinned right on Aasher. “You better have a good fucking alibi.”

Oh, he does.

Too bad we can’t tell him the truth.

32

AASHER

My life flashedbefore my eyes. What a shame it would have been if I only got one night with her before her dad killed me.

“Riley?” Coach stopped mid-step, freezing at the sight of his daughter in the kitchen with a puff of flour surrounding her.

“Hey, Dad.” She was as poised as ever, but I knew it was fake, because her sweats were definitely damp from the orgasm I just gave her.

“What are you doing over here in my players’ apartment?” Berkley, Ford, and I stood casually, pretending like nothing was unusual.

Nothing to see here.

“Riley is making us breakfast.” Ford yawned.

“She’s making you breakfast?” he repeated. Then he turned and looked at her. “You’re making them breakfast?” Question marks were carved into the wrinkles along his forehead. “Why?”

“Uh…” Riley grabbed the eggs out of the fridge.Thank God Efrain went grocery shopping.

“Becauseeeee,” Ford sang. “She lost a bet.”

I coughed. My glare was a permanent fixture on my face. Riley dropped an entire egg in the pancake batter and sucked in her cheeks.

Nice, Ford. Nice.

“A bet?” Coach pondered, clearly becoming distracted.

“If we beat her loser ex’s team last night, she had to make us breakfast this morning.”

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