Iced Out (Leighton U #1)(52)

So we keep skating and laughing and having fun, letting ourselves just exist in a circumstance where we’re not enemies or rivals or teammates. We’re not in this thing way deeper than we should be.

For one afternoon, we’re just two guys doing their best to live a little.

As our time comes to an end, the sun’s already set and the cool night’s air fills our lungs, and I discover I’m not ready for this to be over. I’m not ready to say goodbye.

From the look in his eyes as we leave the park, neither is he.

I open my mouth, about to offer the option of grabbing dinner and prolonging the inevitable for a little while longer, but he says something first.

“You probably need to get back to your parents, but…thank you. I needed this more than I realized.”

Quinton shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and rocks back on his feet, awkwardness settling between us for the first time all day. Which is a surprise, considering how easy things have been between us all day.

But then I recognize the swirling in my gut as anticipation. The same kind I had the first time we hooked up after the frat house bathroom.

The same kind you get at the end of a first date, and you know you’re supposed to go in for a kiss, but you’re not sure if the other person wants you to. So then, you just flounder.

And floundering is exactly what I’m doing.

Except…after earlier today, I don’t know why.

“Yeah, uh, it’s no problem. Like I said, I had a good time too.” I clear my throat before awkwardly adding, “Drive back to campus safe.”

He nods before asking, “I will. And I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I’m about to say no when I realize he’s right. We have a late practice tomorrow night to get back in the zone for the two games falling over break. The first of which is in two days.

The anticipation from earlier quickly takes a turn straight toward desire, knowing this time tomorrow, we’ll be in his bed doing ridiculously filthy things to each other’s bodies. And I can’t fucking wait.

“Yeah,” I murmur, offering a small smile. “See you then.”

I try not to focus too much on the slight disappointment forming in my chest as I head off in the other direction. After all, going off to dinner or a goodnight kiss is asking for more, and I already fucked up by kissing him earlier today.

Besides, more isn’t what we agreed to. More will only complicate things further than we already have by simply following through with this superstition. And more could lead us to a place where hearts get involved; something I doubt either of us wants or is ready for.

But knowing this still isn’t enough to stop the disappointment.

I’m about to cross Michigan Avenue when a hand lands on my forearm, halting me in my tracks. There’s not even a second for me to register what is happening when Quinton reels me back into him, and without hesitation, drags me in for a kiss.

The second kiss of the day, but this is entirely different than the first.

Soft and gentle, lighting my heart on fire with a single press of his lips. It’s a kiss I’d never think him capable of giving, and yet, it’s somehow the best of all the ones we’ve shared so far.

And the way it makes my stomach flip and hurdle like a damn gymnast tells me I’m in a shit ton of trouble.





Nineteen

Quinton

We won the first winter break game by a landslide, and the second one tonight is no different. I’m running on an adrenaline high, having gotten my first hat trick all season, and to top it off, Coach called me into his office to talk after the game about agents.

Specifically, ones asking about me. Something I hoped would happen eventually, but now that it actually is…I honestly can’t even believe it.

By the time I’m out of Coach’s office, my head’s so high in the damn clouds, I don’t even notice the locker room is close to being abandoned.

Well, shit.

My eyes automatically search for Oakley—they always seem to lately—but I come up empty.

Double shit.

I have no idea what his plans are tonight, let alone for the next few days until the new semester starts, but I’d like to find out. The only issue is Coach pulled me in the office to chat before I could mention meeting up over the rest of our break.

And I wanna see him. Tonight, especially. Celebrate another well-earned win. Grab a couple drinks at a bar or something. Maybe even tell him about the meeting with Coach, where he mentioned the agents asking about me.

Pulling my phone from my stall, I send him a quick text.

Me: Wanna see you. You still here?

A couple minutes pass while I finish undressing, but when I check my phone again, there’s no response.

He could be driving, sure, but I doubt he was able to shower, change, and get out of here in the time I was in Coach’s office. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes.

Then again, half the team is already gone—probably ready to get back to their families for the rest of the break.

I wrap my towel around my waist, ready to head toward the showers when Camden rounds the corner and starts packing his stuff in his duffle on the bench across from me. Pretty sure he’s the last one in here besides me.

And while it might be risky, if there’s anyone I could ask about Oakley to, it’d be him.

Hopefully.