Page 55 of Icing Hearts

“What—what is this place?” I stutter, eyeing the muscled men in various forms of physical exertion. Tory still has on his compression shirt, but it’s pulled halfway up his chest. Likely, he’s done it intentionally because he saw how flustered this particular look got me in the locker room.

Sweat dots his abs and obliques. One or two errant drops make their way over a tattoo on his ribs that disappears under the shirt and ends just before the line of his underwear. That one might be my favorite. It’s a date in thick, black roman numerals. I don’t know what it’s for, but I know the date. When he first got the ink, he posted a photo of it, and I searched for the translation. It’s a month and year that haven’t happened yet.

Oddly, the day isn’t included. Just the month and year. June 2027 . It’s the month we graduate. But I don’t feel like that’s the meaning of the tattoo. Someday I’ll ask him.

Clover gestures with her hand, waving it over the room. “This, my friend, is the weight room. I call it ‘Hockey Boy Heaven.’ It’s glorious, isn’t it?”

“Clover,” I playfully scold and nudge her with my shoulder. It feels weird because she’s got about five inches on me, and I nudge her mid-bicep. “Who knew you were boy crazy.”

“Not crazy. I’m boy sane. I need boys and their delicious muscles and testosterone to feed something inside me. In my house it’s all Girl Scouts and bows and makeup. My parents are divorced. I have four sisters. I need stuff like this to balance the estrogen overload.”

I nod. “Makes sense.”

She looks at me and startles. “Nothing against hair ribbons, though.” Clover gestures at the ribbon secured at the base of the hair I’ve gathered into a high ponytail.

“None taken,” I tell her. “You mind showing me the ropes? I’ve never really lifted before.”

“I would, but I think you have two studly hockey boys vying for your attention.”

That’s when Vince catches my eye. He’s bicep curling a forty-five-pound dumbbell. After three more reps, he hops up, and my eyes go wide at the sight of him in gray sweatpants. Goodness gracious. I remind myself to keep my eyes above the belt.

He bops up with enough pep to put the Energizer Bunny to shame. “Clare Bear,” Vince exclaims, smiling ear to ear before lifting his t-shirt to dab the sweat from his face.

Vince is a young senior, still seventeen like me. But you wouldn’t know it by looking at the weathered skin of his torso and the very happy happy trail disappearing into his waistline.

Vince lays a heavy arm on my shoulders and plants a kiss on my head. “What do you wanna start with, pretty girl?”

“Well, as far as fitness goals go, I want to work on my glutes, arms, and definitely my stamina,” I tell him.

Someone snorts behind me. I whirl around to see Tory nearly drop the barbell he’s repping onto his chest. One of the guys who is spotting him makes a grab for it.

“Something the matter, Tory?” I twist to face him fully.

He clears his throat, an odd look on his face, and I don’t miss the way his eyes crawl down my body, full of teasing. “Uh-uh. Nope. Stamina is good. Very important.” Tory can barely get the words out without giggling and, despite his playfulness today, I’m momentarily taken aback by his uncharacteristic immaturity.

“What the hell, Amato.” Vince scolds from behind me.

Tory puts his hands up from his seated position on the bench. “Sorry, I just—sorry.”

“Whatever,” Vince grumbles.

We turn to walk away until Tory chirps from behind us, “I mean I’m sure I could help you with your stamina.”

Maybe the innuendos from tutoring weren’t all in my imagination.

Vince takes a step closer to the bench and Tory rises to meet him. They’re nearly eye to eye. Vince has about an inch on Tory and some more bulk but in a fight, they’d be evenly matched.

“Are you really gonna flirt with Clara right in front of me?”

“Absolutely.”

Vince inches closer. “Kinda rude, don’t you think?”

“It’s nothing I won’t do behind your back, Culbs. Just trying to keep things above board.” Tory quirks his chin side to side, as if he’s savoring every bit of this.

I step between the two of them, feeling Vince’s chest softly rising behind me and Tory’s chest heaving in front of me. “Maybe don’t,” I tell Tory.

“Try and stop me.” Though his words hold challenge, his smile feigns innocence. Then his gaze is back over my head and drilling into Vince when he says, “I feel like I made myself clear on this, didn’t I?”

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