Page 15 of Collide
The house is unexpectedly tidy considering they host frequent parties. The faint smell of sweat and alcohol is still fresh in the air, but I suppose that’s soaked into the walls.
When I knock, I step back but hear nothing. Impatience riddles me, so I knock harder. Then again, briefly halting with hesitation, before easing the door forward.
Aiden’s room is bathed in shadows from the glow of a flickering candle. Who would have thought the captain studied by candlelight?
“I’ve been waiting for you all day,” a sultry voice purrs.
I freeze, my gasp catching in my throat.
Naked. So, so naked.
A girl lies on Aiden’s bed, whipped cream covering the apex of her thighs and nipples, a bowl of strawberries sitting on the nightstand. When I make a garbled noise, her eyes find mine and she screams, sending me scrambling backwards to hit a dresser.
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” I rush out. Just as I’m going to bolt down the stairs, I bump into someone. A very hard, warm-chested someone.
I stumble back to see Aiden staring at me, concern marring his striking features. He looks irritatingly perfect with his sharp bone structure and full lips. “You good?” he asks.
My eyes are still wide and I have to physically remember to blink them. “Fine,” I squeak.
He looks to his bedroom door. “Were you in my room?”
“Thursday,” I state, ignoring his question. “Our first session We’ll meet at the rink.”
His entire face lights up. “I’m in?” He takes a step forward like he’s about to hug me but stops when I take one back. He clears his throat. “What changed your mind?”
Kian’s little speech had a lot to do with it, and when I look at Aiden I know Kian wasn’t lying. There’s something about his eyes that makes me believe it.
“Your desperation,” I say instead.
“Pity? I’ll take it.” He beams.
I purse my lips to keep from smiling. “Don’t get too comfortable, you’re on thin ice.”
His expression grows tight like he’s annoyed at the comment. But when his bedroom door creaks our attention shifts to the girl, melting whipped cream not doing a great job of staying in place.
Aiden rubs the back of his neck with a sheepish look. The tips of his ears go a little pink and I’m fascinated that Aiden Crawford feels even slightly embarrassed. The girl’s really pretty and completely naked. You’d think he would be parading around the fact that he’s constantly getting laid.
Before he can give me an explanation I don't want, I bolt down the stairs.
THURSDAY ROLLS AROUND, only for me to regret each step I take toward the cold rink. On the secluded ice, I hear the swish of a puck hitting the net.
Aiden is so focused he doesn’t notice me by the ice waving at him. The raw talent is visible in the way he moves like he’s not breaking a sweat. The contour of muscles in his back ripple under his tight shirt.
“Aiden!” I call but he doesn’t turn.
So I try again, louder this time. Still no response.
I had allotted one hour for our meeting and a second over will mean barely catching up on the sleep I’ve lost this week. Groaning, I do the one thing I didn’t think I ever would again. I trudge over to the spare equipment room and grab a pair of beat-up skates. They’re too tight, and my ankle feels all wrong. The simple act of tying the laces makes my chest swirl. I desperately push away the memory of putting skates on for ten years of my life to skate with my dad.
I glide onto the ice with a rusty form, as Aiden speeds through drills.
“Hey,” I call when I get closer, though he only sends another puck flying. Fed up, I tap his shoulder to get his attention. “Crawford!”
When he spins, I’m standing way too close because his elbow hits my shoulder, throwing me off balance. I scream and fall to the ice, my back taking most of the brunt, and my head being spared from hitting the ice. The thought of my skull cracking causes a shiver to roll up my spine. There was a video circulating last year of a Dalton figure skater cracking her skull on the ice at the Olympics. Since then, even stepping foot on Dalton rinks without a helmet meant getting your head chewed off by staff.
“Shit. Are you okay?” Aiden asks, pulling out an earbud. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Fine,” I mutter, still lying flat on the ice.
