Page 15 of Ice Cold, Red Hot
She’s everywhere. In my apartment building, in my classes, in my fucking head.
I did my best to take the frustration and pent-up physicality to the rink, let it channel through my muscles, through my intensity on the ice. To some degree, it worked. I even made it through psych lab without issues, and I successfully avoided Celeste for a whole four days after the standoff in the study lounge.
I’d screwed up there. Let myself get too close. It wouldn’t happen again.
Except…
Griff and I were lounging on the balcony Friday night, enjoying a late-night beer before heading out to meet some of the guys at a party. I didn’t make a habit of drinking in excess, especially during the season, but we’d won against Jackson the night before, and Coach had said nice things at our practice today. Dad had even sent me a text. “Better tonight.” For him, that was practically giddy congratulations.I’d take it, cuz I sure as hell wasn’t getting anything else.
“And then you should have seen it,” Griff was saying, telling me a story about some guy on the quad this afternoon who set up cardboard and pretended to break dance. “He did that Ray Gun move where he—dude, are you even listening?”
I was not. My attention had been caught when a sleek black Euro sports car pulled up at the curb below and that tool in my department, Ethan something-or-other got out, looking smug. That wouldn’t have been enough to catch my attention. It was his passenger that stole my ability to talk.
Ethan walked around the front of his car like he owned the world, and opened the door. I watched as Celeste stepped out, legs first, in a pair of uber-tight black jeans and a tank top with a cardigan sliding off her bronzed shoulders. She took his hand as she stepped onto the curb, and I felt the urge to vomit.
They stood there, way too close together, talking in quiet voices. And then they laughed, like he’d told the most clever joke in the whole fucking world and I wanted to kill him.
I hated the way she was smiling at him, like he was so fucking refined, so perfect. And I hated the way he was leaning into her, his eyes on her face like he wasn’t just trying to fuck her, he was trying to be someone important to her.
“Damn. Thought you said you didn’t care about her, bro?” Griff was watching me watch them, picking up way too much.
“I don’t.” Even I didn’t believe me. I couldn’t stop staring at the scene playing out below us, and a second later Celeste’s eyes found us. Saw me watching. She didn’t look away, and there was something in the look…
Everything inside me was going berserk.
She was dating this guy?
Absolutely no way. He didn’t know her. He knew nothing about her. I knew he wasn’t her type.
But then he leaned in, his hand on her upper arm. My vision went red.
I didn’t think about it, I got to my feet and stormed inside, through the apartment and down the stairs, two at a time. I was headed for her like a missile, and within minutes of me bursting out the front door, her eyes found mine, and she did not look happy.
It didn’t stop me.
I walked straight up to them and slung my arm oh-so casually around Celeste’s shoulders. “You’re home late, Moreno.”
I grinned at Ethan, then swung my gaze back to Celeste. Ethan backed off, and Celeste had gone rigid under my arm. “Didn’t think they let psych nerds stay out past nine.” I gave them both a wink and gave Celeste’s shoulder a little squeeze before she shoved my arm away.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” She was seething. Furious. And a stab of satisfaction shot through me.
I shrugged, shoved my hands in my pockets. “Nothing. Just making sure your, uh… friend knows what he’s getting into.”
“What the hell does that mean?” she hissed.
I gave Ethan a knowing look over the finger gun thatappeared out of nowhere (since when had I made finger guns… ever?) and I headed back inside.
I hadn’t made it up two stairs before Celeste caught up with me, the steel door to the stairwell slamming behind her.
“You don’t get to do that!” She was furious, her eyes blazing, her cheeks red.
I stopped, moved down a step, putting us eye to eye. “You really think that guy’s your type?”
Her eyes narrowed, she moved closer. “At least he doesn’t pretend I don’t exist.” She practically spat the words and then ran up the stairs ahead of me. I followed, hot on her tail, and we barged out into the hallway between our apartments. The door to my place was open, as it almost always was on Friday nights, so the team could come hang. I could hear them all inside, laughing and fucking around.
“Leave me alone, Shepherd,” Celeste said, loudly enough to quiet down the guys inside. “I thought that was your big plan anyway.” She disappeared through her apartment door, slamming it behind her.
Burns and Hashimoto peeked their heads out my apartment, clearly having seen that last bit. “Dude, you’re so fucked,” Hashimoto laughed. Soon, the entire team was cackling hysterically as Burns re-enacted Celeste’s departure in the hallway.
