Page 23 of Stick Handled

His hazel eyes lock onto mine, and I swear he knows. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. He’s toying with me, and I should hate it. But every part of me is buzzing, alive in a way I haven’t felt before.

“You look scared,” he teases, tilting his head slightly as if studying me, his smirk deepening. “I’m not making you nervous, am I?”

“N-no,” I stammer, cringing at how weak my voice sounds. His proximity is messing with my brain, making it impossible to form a coherent thought.

His eyes flick down to my lips briefly, and my pulse races. “You’re flushed.”

I force a laugh, trying to shake off the tension creeping up my spine. “It’s called blush. Makeup. You couldn’t make me blush even if you tried.”

“Even if I tried,” he repeats, his eyebrows raising as if that’s the most offensive thing I could have said. “You wound me, Red.”

He doesn’t need to tell me I’m flushed. I know it. My cheeks burn, and I can feel my heart pounding in my ears. I glance toward the rink, desperate for an escape, for something to break the moment, but he steps into my line of sight again, stealing back my attention.

Damien shifts, leaning in just a little more, so close that I can see the tiny flecks of green in his hazel eyes, the sharp angles of his face. He’s never been so close before.

His presence is overwhelming and consuming. Every inch of him screamstrouble, the kind you’re supposed to run from.

But I’m not running.

“You know,” he starts, his voice low and husky, “You’re a very, very,” he says each word slowly, dragging it out, “bad little liar.”

My heart leaps into my throat. “I’m not lying,” I breathe out.

“No?” His eyes dance with mischief as he edges closer still, his lips curving just slightly. “Because I don’t appreciate lies, Avery.”

Avery. Not Red.

I open my mouth, but the words die on my lips when I see his gaze darken, his smirk fading into something more serious. I feel like we’re standing at the edge of a cliff, and all it would take is one wrong step.

“I’m not… I mean, I wasn’t…” I trail off, hating how lost I sound. “What is all this questioning anyway? Can we just get on the ice already?”

But here I am, my heart racing, my breath shallow. And I can’t seem to stop.

“Don’t worry.” Damien’s voice is a low murmur, but it sends shivers down my spine. “I’ll make sure you’re back on the ice soon enough.” He leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “Impatient little liar.”

My throat tightens. Every nerve in my body is screaming that this is wrong, that I shouldn’t be feeling like this. All I can think about is how close we are, and how much I don’t want him to move away.

This is insane. I’m not supposed to feel this way towards him. He’s not supposed to talk to me like that, either. But here we are, and for the first time in forever, I feel like maybe I’m not invisible. He makes me feel seen. Special.

And that’s the most dangerous part.

Chapter eight

~DAMIEN~

The second I step away from her, I regret it.

My pulse is still hammering, and my blood is still hot. I shouldn’t have gotten that close to her. Not if I wanted to keep my self-control.

I glance over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of her standing there, her lips still parted like she’s trying to figure out what just happened, and my gut twists. I should’ve stayed away. I could’ve counted every single freckle on her face if I stayed any longer, memorized the way the specs of brown melted into her green eyes. Hell, I could’ve kissed her just by leaning in a little closer.

But I didn’t. I pulled away. And now, she looks disappointed.

“You wanna sit down?” I ask, motioning to the bench nearby. “I’ll help you with your skates.”

She hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line, and for a second, it’s like she’s about to protest. She’s still wrapped in that tension from before, and so am I.

“I can put on my own skates,” she mutters, crossing her arms like it’s some challenge, and she’s annoyed I even offered.

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