Page 66 of Burn

Good. Freeze.

“Adrian,” her voice is timid. “Listen, I’m —”

The coil of rage inside my chest spins tight, and I grip the steering wheel harder. It groans under the pressure, cutting her off. “Do not apologize,” I grit out.

“But,” she starts again, and the coil snaps, and I slam my fist into the dashboard of the truck, hitting the volume button for the radio. Johnny Cash’s ‘Hurt’fills the speakers.

Perfect.

I watch her shut down, lean into the door, as far away from me as she can get, shoulders slumped, eyes cast downward. The rest of the drive is silent, allowing me to stew over her words.

‘I don’t want you.’

They sting like a thousand paper cuts across my heart. When we pull into the parking lot of the arena, I shift the truck into park before we’ve come to a complete stop, shove the door open, and once again slam it so hard that the truck rocks back and forth. Inside, I watch her flinch, and I spin, stalking toward the entrance.

She can stay out here for all I fucking care.

I hear her door open and gently shut behind her, and I push myself forward faster, needing as much distance as possible between us. As I reach for the door, I glance over my shoulder, wanting to confirm she’s coming inside, and not running away. I’m so fucking angry, but I do care. I do like her close by.

Fuck.

My head is still turned back as I charge into the arena, so I don’t see the person walking out, barreling into the guy at full speed. My skates in my hand go flying, and the coffee he holds shoots up in the air before crashing down to the ground, sending a wave of creamy liquid across the floor and onto our shoes.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I growl, slowly turning to face him.

The guy is massive. He has at least a couple of inches on me and wears the goofiest smile on his face. He bends down, collecting my skates. When he stands up, he holds them out and says, “Holy shit, man. Moving like a bat outta hell.”

I snatch my skates from him, my tone menacing when I reply, “Watch where you’re going.”

The guy laughs loudly and boisterously. “Ha! I was looking forward, bro. You, on the other hand, were looking back,” he tips his head toward Lex. “Can’t say I blame you. I’d rather look at her, too.” I feel her step up behind me, and the guys’ smiles change. “Hi,” he says, his voice dropping an octave.

Lex sounds unsure when she speaks. “Hi.”

He holds his hand out, pushing past me to get close to her. “I’m Anton, and you are?”

“Not fucking available,” I snap at him.

He laughs again, but doesn’t pull his hand back, and I watch as she reaches out and takes it. “Hi Anton. I’m Lex. This is Adrian. He has a fucking attitude problem.”

Holy. Fuck.

I might snap.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Lex. Adrian? Liberty, right? Great to meet you, man. You have a pretty legendary attitude. I hear you like to hit people.”

He has dark hair like mine, a similar build, and rough features that tell me this guy also likes to hit people and isn’t afraid of being hit back. The guy looks like he could be my cousin — similar but different. I huff a humorless laugh, “Yeah. Love to hit people. You volunteering to be my first of the day?”

He slams a hand on my shoulder, still laughing. “Man, we’re gonna get along just fine.” He steps around us, heading outside. “See you in there.”

Lex steps forward, directly into the puddle of coffee, and her arms shoot out as her foot slides. I reach out and grab her arm, stopping her from winding up sitting in it. She collects herself and says, “Thanks.”

Her warm vanilla scent is everywhere, mixing with the cool, clean smell of the rink. The combination might be my favorite smell, and my anger dissipates as I take it in.

“You’re welcome.”

She turns to face me, blue-gray eyes filled with questions and sorrow.

“Adrian, I’m…” She pauses, studying my expression. “I’m going to go sit in the stands.”

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