Page 13 of Revolve
“I’ll be sure to surprise you, then.” I plaster on a saccharine grin.
He chuckles; it’s low and rumbly like his voice. “I’ll leave my door unlocked.”
“I’m sure it always is.”
If I wasn’t watching so closely, I wouldn’t have noticed his smile waver. “Maybe it’s best if you keep those skates on. Looks like you need the practice.”
He’s not wrong, but I’d never admit it. Telling a man he’s right? Yeah, hell no. “You wouldn’t even know the first thing about figure skating.”
“Your Salchow was under-rotated, and your landing was weak. And that triple toe loop? Way off axis.”
I’m left blinking like an idiot. His words scorch any retort I could have given. Because it’s exactly what I was scolding myself for.
“You lack confidence,” he adds, twisting the knife of his critique.
“Clearly you don’t lack balls. I didn’t ask for your opinion. You wouldn’t even be able to replicate any of my moves.”
His eyes narrow, and for a moment, it’s like he’s considering proving me wrong. I worry that he’ll actually do it, and I’ll have to live with the fact that ahockey playercan skate better than me. Instead, he takes a step back from the boards. Our heated stare down disintegrates into the cold ice.
“Thought so.” I smirk. “Maybe if I toss a puck on the ice, you can chase after it like a good boy.”
A glint returns to his eyes. “Is that what you want? For me to be a good boy?”
I clench my fists. “I want you to get out of my arena.”
“Your arena?”
“Myslot,” I say through gritted teeth. “You can crash headfirst into the baseboards all you want after that.”
“Not anymore,” he mutters, then pushes off the gate and turns away. “Dalton has a learn-to-skate program, by the way. It might do you some good.”
I flip him off.
“ASSHOLE!” I TOSSmy bag on the table of the after-hours study room. All the buildings on campus close at ten on Wednesdays, but there’s a private study room that Scarlett found freshman year that she sneaks into. Like at midnight on a weekday when she needs to use the whiteboard to teach herself. Tonight, the bold heading she’s written on the chaotic board isProctology.
“Close! It’s actually the inside of a colon.” Scarlett points at theimage on her textbook, staring at me over the rims of her glasses. She’s braided her hair into uneven pigtails. She stress braids when she studies.
“Did you run into Justin again or something?” she asks.
“Worse.”
“There’s worse than Justin?”
“Fine, not worse but equally as irritating,” I say. “That hockey player from the party.”
“The one whose head you ripped off?” She laughs when I give her a look. “Sorry, that’s what everyone’s saying. You went againstthehockey stud at the first party of the semester. It was bound to circulate.”
“Oh please, people can’t care that much.”
“They do when it’s Dylan Donovan, Dalton’s beloved left-winger. Or I should say thecaptain. Well, for like a day, before his failed drug test thing.” Scarlett pauses. “Sorry, my dad’s been bringing work home, so a day in the life of Coach Kilner is all I heard about this morning.”
Failed drug test? Who the hell is this guy?“That would explain all the free time he has to irritate me. He’s the cockiest man on the planet.”
Scarlett snorts. “Match made in heaven.”
When I glare, she laughs loudly, standing to erase something on the whiteboard.
“It’s just that you’re the cockiest woman I know. I mean, not as of late, but you know you’re good and you aren’t afraid to show it. It’s a commendable characteristic.”
