Iced Out (Leighton U #1)(58)

“What are we smashing?” Hayes’s voice comes out of nowhere.

Both of us turn at the sound of it, finding him leaning against the kitchen counter, dark brows arched in curiosity. He takes a long sip of the water in his hand, eyes locked on me the entire time.

I’ve got no idea how long he’s been standing there, but there’s a good chance he saw the two of us kiss in the doorway before Oakley came inside. And though I know he won’t say anything in Oakley’s presence, that leaves a massive tale for me to unpack with him later.

Maybe he didn’t see.

“Econ,” Oakley finishes his sentence before holding up his textbook. “Quinn took it a couple semesters ago and said he could help me if I needed it. Less than a week into classes and here I am, already caving.”

“Oh, I’m sure Quinn did.” If possible, Hayes’s expression becomes even more impish. He takes another drink of water before adding, “You know, since it’s one of Quinn’s major requirements.”

Goddamnit, Hayes.

Oakley’s eyes shift to me, clearly aware of his fuck up. Which only makes my best friend’s amusement grow, and irritates me even more.

“Yeah,” Oakley says slowly. “Exactly.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but don’t you have your own house you can do that at? Or did you move in here and I just didn’t realize it?”

Yeah, he definitely fucking saw.

My teeth sink into my lower lip as I glare daggers at my best friend. “Funny, Hayes.”

“I thought so.” A knowing smirk rests on his lips, and he raises his half empty glass of water in mock cheers. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Relief floods my body as the door to his room closes behind him, leaving me alone with Oakley again.

I have to admit; Hayes makes a solid point. Oakley’s here so often now, I might as well just give him the spare key so he can come and go as he pleases. But it’s not like he sleeps here or anything. He always goes home after hanging out or hooking up.

The only time we’ve ever slept in the same bed was by accident, and it was in a hotel room we were sharing anyway.

“Should I go?” Oakley asks, a hint of worry in those brown eyes.

I shake my head. “It’s just Hayes being Hayes.”

“So being a dick.”

A smirk works its way onto my face. “He wouldn’t be my best friend if he wasn’t.”

“Like attracts like.”

“Absolutely,” I confirm before pulling him into my room, the door slamming closed behind us. “Which is exactly why you like me so much.”

His eyes roll so hard, I’m surprised they don’t get stuck. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

“The world wouldn’t crumble around us if you admit you like me. Even just as a person. Please tell me you know that.”

His expression softens then, and one hand traces up my side. I feel the heat of his skin through my shirt, and once his fingers have passed any specific spot, goosebumps are left in their wake. Another new effect he has on me.

“I think it’s just safer to pretend I don’t.”

I know that. The problem is, I wish I didn’t. Just like I know it’s a problem for me to be seeing him in a completely different light than I was a couple months ago.

In fact, I’m struggling to hold on to the reason why we were even enemies in the first place.



With Hayes’s senses on high alert when it comes to the two of us, sex of any kind is out of the question, at least while he knows Oakley’s here. Which means he really does pull out his econ and set to work, strewing textbooks and flashcards across my bed like it’s a giant desk.

Unfortunate for me, considering I was hoping to get naked and under him this evening.

Hell, I’d settle for just hanging out. Watching a movie. Listening to music. Anything other than crack open another fucking textbook and ignore each other for hours. But considering college is no joke, especially as a student athlete, it’s probably a good idea for us to start getting ahead on class work for the semester.

Crawling over the mess he’s made of my bed, one of my upper level econ textbooks in hand, I slip into place beside him and lean back against the wall. The bed jostling with my movement causes Oakley to shift, rolling his shoulder before settling back into place.

Which would be fine, except it’s the shoulder he tore last season along with his broken collarbone. And I’ve noticed him messing with it a lot more lately.

“You good?”

His brows furrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Reaching out, I run my index and middle fingers along his collarbone over to his shoulder. “I dunno. You’ve been rolling this a lot during practice. And then you just did it again a minute ago. So I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh,” is all he says, the frown still present on his face. “I guess I didn’t realize I did it.”

My teeth scrape over my bottom lip, becoming increasingly aware I pay far more attention to him than I thought I did. Or probably should, for that matter.

From the way he’s staring at me, confusion slowly shifting to realization, he’s figuring it out too.

“What’s that look for?”

His head slants to the side. “What look?”