Page 12 of Ice Cold Rival

I couldn’t seem to take a full breath, so shallow panting would have to do. No one had to know I was on the verge of hyperventilating because I was taking an extremely attractive hockey player who was already intimately familiar with my nether regions back to my room. To be alone. While half the party watched.

Including my ex.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance my way then do a double take. His brows furrowed, and he nearly turned his back on the redhead to scowl at us. Until I made the mistake of meeting his gaze. With the knowledge I was aware of him, the frown disappeared. He hauled the redhead closer, sweeping her hair to the side and kissing her neck.

I recognized the move. He’d used it on me countless times with his apologies, whispering how special I was to him. Belatedly, I jerked my attention back to the people I’d have to slalom around to get to my room. Guess I wasn’t special after all. He’d hurt me in so many ways already, I hadn’t thought I could experience more.

Could I have been any stupider? How many other girls did he make feel special while I sat in my room, content to honor his wishes that I stay away from this huge part of his life? My stomach revolted, and my steps hitched for a second. Reece was either a mind reader or hyper aware of me because he slid his arm around my waist, supporting me as we walked.

I shouldn’t care. The peacemaker in me wanted to smile and pretend nothing was wrong—smooth over the outside so no one could see the turmoil underneath. My shoulders tightened to the point of pain, and Reece pulled me closer to put his mouth against my ear again.

“Fuck him. He never deserved you.”

A shaky laugh burst out of me, and I turned to face Reece, barely a breath away. “Isn’t he your teammate?”

“Not in any way that counts. Which room is yours?”

We’d reached the hallway and stopped without me realizing it. Chi Omega didn’t host many parties, so the usual procedure was to post a freshman by the bedrooms to keep our personal spaces private. Coleen was nowhere to be found, but she was another of Amanda’s groupies so I’d let the queen bee deal with it.

I pointed to the second door, and Reece ushered me inside. The door closed behind us silently, blocking out the party sounds from the rest of the house. As soon as I’d officially won the bet, relief weakened my knees.

Reece deposited me on the edge of the bed, then backed away, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked around examining my stuff. There wasn’t much to look at since I hadn’t had time to decorate before finding out Toby was a liar and a cheat. After, I hadn’t felt much like doing anything.

The lamp on my nightstand lit the room, but it only made the tight confines seem smaller. With the furniture taking up most of the space, Reece chose to lean against the door instead of joining me on the bed. Probably for the best since I could still feel the imprint of his fingers on my hip. At least I’d cleaned up a little, but the gross nacho plate was still taking up residence next to my jewelry.

He pointed at it and saved me from the awkward silence. “Was this all you had for dinner?”

Warmth filled my cheeks, and I clasped my hands together in my lap. “That was yesterday’s dinner. I didn’t get around to dinner tonight.”

“Is that why you look pale?”

I looked pale? I resisted the urge to get up and check the mirror hanging on my closet door and offered what I hoped was a casual shrug. “Maybe?”

It was probably a combination of not eating, seeing Toby, and wearing the stupid dress out of spite. Well, mission accomplished. I’d proven I could still fit into it. No need to keep torturing myself.

I stood, wincing at the pain in my ribs. “Can you turn around please? I need to change.”

His brows flew up. “You’re not really convincing me you didn’t drag me in here under false pretenses.”

“I want my panties back before I get naked in front of you again.” I twirled my finger in a circle, and Reece did as he was told.

“Ah, so if I produced your panties right now, I could turn around and enjoy the false pretenses?”

“I thought you weren’t interested in the pretenses.” I grunted as I strained for the zipper.

He tilted his head to speak over his shoulder without looking. “I’m not interested in relationships. Pretenses in the plural tend to lead that direction.”

“Then why make it look like we were together out there?”

He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “The pleasure of petty vengeance. I don’t like your ex.”

“Join the club,” I muttered, starting to get light-headed from fighting with my clothes.

No matter how I contorted myself, I couldn’t get the zipper to budge. Dammit. With a groan, I admitted defeat.

“Can you unzip me?” I held up my hair and turned away from him.

Clothes rustled, and his clean shower scent hit me a split second before his hand trailed between my shoulder blades. Goosebumps rose in his wake, but I didn’t move. Slowly, he tugged the zipper down.

---