Page 37 of Revolve
“Can we talk?” I finally say, breaking the silence because clearly, he’s content to just stare me into the next century. “In your room or something?”
Dylan’s still looking at me as he finishes the last bite of his cereal and drops the spoon into the bowl with an exaggeratedclunk. “Not sure if I’d feel safe in there with the girl who threatened my life earlier.”
“That was a friendly joke,” I say.
“Do you tell all your friends you’d enjoy seeing them covered in dirt?”
“Fine. Let’s talk here, then.” I take a deep breath. “I accept.”
Dylan pauses, processing my words with an infuriating slowness. He deliberately moves to get the cereal box, adds more cereal, and takes a loud bite.
“Accept what?” he asks, through a mouthful of shredded wheat.
“For you to be my partner.”
He raises an amused eyebrow. “If I recall correctly, you told me you could have anyone—including your perfect ex-boyfriend, who looked more than happy to fill the role,” he says, his voice steady but his jaw tight. “Now you want me? The sloppy footwork hockey player? I’m no one’s second choice, princess.”
His words hang in the air, layered with a hint of challenge.
“One, Justin is myformer partner. Two, you’re technically not a hockey player as of this semester. Three, you’re a good figure skater, and you know it.”
“Good?”
“Great,” I rectify.
“Great?”
I narrow my eyes to slits, refusing to let him bait me. “If you’re fishing for more compliments, you won’t get them from me. But me standing here, asking you to be my partner, should be enough.”
He tilts his head with a boyish grin. “But you really hurt my fragile ego with your little temper tantrum in Kilner’s office. I could be persuaded though.”
I scoff. “Actually, I think it’s you who should make it up to me. Did you forget about the IOU? I’m cashing it in.”
He shakes his head like I’m sorely mistaken. “That was for your friend, not you.”
“She’d use it for me.” He’s so smug right now, I wish I could just walk out. But I need him, and he knows it too. “Kilner and Lidia want an answer. If you’re my partner, I can get you back on the ice. You can show the sports director you aren’t messing around and get reinstated,” I say. “So, yes or no? I think I’m getting a rash from being in this house for so long.”
“Oh yeah? Are you allergic to hockey players or something?” he mocks.
“I’m allergic to your cocky attitude.”
“Trust me, you haven’t seen cocky yet.” Then he tilts his head. “I don’t think I like your hostility. Ask me again.”
“You’re seriously going to make me work for it? You don’t even have a choice.” I’m the one who holds his career in my hands, so why does it feel like he’s the one in control?
He blinks. “Still sound frigid to me.”
Asshole just called mefrigid. “Be my partner,” I grit out.
“Nicely, Sierra.”
“Be my partner …” I swallow the thickness blocking the word. “Please.”
He stops, like he’s weighing whether to torture me some more. But he glances at my clenched fists, drops his bowl on the table, and heads straight down the dark hallway, probably to his room. I don’t dare follow.
I’m left staring at the rippling muscles on his back when he says, “I’ll see you on the ice, princess.”
The nickname grates my ears. “Asshole,” I mutter.
