Page 91 of Iced Out

“But Theo’s already getting the popcorn,” Cam counters. “And besides, I’ve got some time to kill, so might as well get it off your chest.”

Holden’s head drops back against the couch before he turns it toward me. “How much time you got?”

I lift my good shoulder with a shrug. “However much time it takes.”

“You sure you don’t need to go hang out with your other friends?” he teases before giving me a playful shove. Which, of course, is to the same shoulder that’s been throbbing all night from Carter being a dickweed on the ice.

Holden’s eyes become saucers when he realizes what he did, and I can’t help but laugh through the pain shooting down my arm.

“Now you’re lucky if I’ll listen at all.”

“So fucking dramatic tonight. You’re definitely the Mom,” Holden gripes before turning and calling over the couch. “Theo! Bring an ice pack while you’re at it!”

Twenty-Five

Oakley

Why in God’s name I thought it would be a good idea to take another freaking philosophy class for an elective this semester is beyond me. It was meant to be a quick, easy A with everything I learned last term, but I end up studying this shit more often than I do anything else. And while it makes sense in theory, when the professor asks me toput it in my own wordsin an essay, it becomes a lot fucking harder.

Doesn’t help that Kant, Hume, and all the rest of them blur together into one jumbled mess inside my brain after staring endlessly at my textbook, trying to figure out where I want to start. Which is what I’ve been doing since nine this morning, when I arrived at the library.

Eight fucking hours ago.

I’m about two seconds away from ripping my damn hair out when I notice a lone figure weaving their way through the dimly lit stacks toward me.

At first I think I might be hallucinating from staring at the computer screen for too long. Because there’s no way in hellQuinnis at the library. On a Sunday…or probably any other day of the week.

But I’d recognize that smirk and saunter just about anywhere. They’re the only things getting my blood heated these days—whether it be out of lust or anger.

He looks good. Damn near edible in his LU Hockey hoodie and sweats. None of which should be attractive in their own right, but Quinn makes it work for him just as much as he does leather and jeans.

Then again, maybe it’s those fucking glasses getting to me instead.

“Stalking me, de Haas?”

He stops across the table from me, his damn smirk growing when his eyes lock with mine before shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats. “Stalking? No way in hell. This little meet-cute is one hundred percent consequential.”

I squint at him. “You mean coincidental?”

“Tomato, potato,” he says, brushing me off. “The point is, it’s not stalking.”

“Oh, really?” My brow raises. “Because I know there’s absolutely no chance in hell you justhappenedto stroll onto the fifth floor of the library. First or second, maybe. Highly unlikely, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. But up here? Absolutely not.”

All I get is a non-committal shrug. “I know, it’s weird. But I was just up here browsing the stacks in search of a good book and there you were. Must’ve been fate.”

“Destiny,” I deadpan. “Especially when the onlybooksup here are actually research articles and dissertations.”

He rounds the table, coming up beside me and placing one hand on the smooth wood, the other on the back of my chair. The light brush of his fingers sears me through my shirt, instantly making my stomach roll with anticipation.

There’s nothing shook up in his stare down at me, blue eyes flaming and a quirk on those sinful lips. And it’s infuriating to know the damn guy doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish when he’s caught red-handed in a blatant lie.

“Give it up, Quinn. How’d you find me?”

“Sent out an APB, obviously.”

I roll my eyes. “And the real answer, jackass?”

“Oh, calm down, baby.” His deep laugh, a low baritone, floats over my skin and sends a rush of lust and adrenaline coursing through me. Or maybe it was the pet name that…I could get used to hearing more.

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