For a second, his jaw works, like I’ve struck something raw. Then he leans in, closing the space between us and my body betrays me with a small, instinctive step back.
Damn my body for flinching. Damn my heart for even aching at all.
“I know about your little game with Braydon,” he sneers.
My heart lurches.
For a split second, my eyes almost widen, but I force them still. I swallow hard, fighting to keep my face neutral even as my pulse hammers in my ears. He knows? What does that even mean? Did he somehow figure it out? But how?
I search his expression, but he only looks more confident, like he’s holding cards I don’t have.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say flatly, lifting my shoulders in a careless shrug I don’t feel.
He snorts, his mouth curling in disdain. “Please. I know you’re desperate to prove me wrong but moving on with Braydon?” His eyes drag over me with something like disgust. “That’s low. Even for you.”
I scoff. “Low? In what position do you get to judge anyone, Bryan? Or are you jealous?”
He shrugs, throwing his hand up as he steps back. “I’m just trying to help you out, Katy. You’re not his type. It’s going to sting when he turns you down, and it’ll sting bad. Save yourself the heartache.
My stomach knots, then slowly unwinds as his meaning clicks. Oh. That’s what he thinks. He doesn’t actually know about the deal between me and Braydon. He’s convinced I’m chasing Braydon.
Of course.
I curl my fingers into a fist, my nails pressing against my palm. “You’re my ex, Bryan. Stop digging into my life or I might actually report you for stalking.” Then I let a smirk slide across my face. “And whatever you’ve heard, Braydon’s the one who came to me at the library. He even brought me a drink and I didn’t ask for any of it.”
I pause, tapping a finger lightly against my jaw as if the thought has just occurred to me. “Or maybe…” My eyes flick back to him. “…he’s the one trying to get my attention.”
His face shifts like someone just smacked him with a textbook. His eyes go darker, and for once, he doesn’t have a comeback ready.
I step closer, closing the gap on purpose. “Tell me, Bryan,” I say, lowering my voice, “what do you think it means when your brother leaves his hockey jacket for me?” My gaze drops to the one clutched in his hand. “Maybe you two have more in common than you think. You show affection in similar ways.”
His jaw tightens so hard I almost hear it.
“Keep lying to yourself,” he spits through gritted teeth. “If you’re going to chase someone, you’d be foolish to pick Braydon. He’s fucked half of Cadston, and the other half are probably on a waitlist.
He likes his girls nasty and experienced, not… whatever you are. He’ll get bored before you even make it to a kiss.”
Then he spins on his heel and storms off down the hall, muttering something under his breath.
I lean against the doorway, letting out a slow breath. My heart’s still pounding, but a smile creeps in anyway.
He thinks he knows everything but he doesn’t know a damn thing.
This is just the beginning, Bryan. And I can’t wait to watch your fragile little ego crack.
BRAYDON’S POV
Despite all the games we’ve won this season, it’s painfully clear Coach doesn’t give a damn. Why? Because practice this morning feels like straight-up military training.
“Cooper!” Coach’s voice rips through the rink like a cannon. “Where’s your head? Do something!”
I blink, realizing I don’t even have the puck anymore. Martin stripped it clean off me and already iced it. Great.
I tip my helmet back just enough to wipe sweat off my forehead, then shoot Coach a look that’s half-apology, half-please don’t murder me in front of my teammates.
The guys starts snickering behind their mouth guards and Martin smirks as he skates by, mouthing that I should stay awake.
I flip him off.
Maybe practice isn’t even that brutal this morning. Maybe it’s just me, skating around like an idiot because I’m distracted out of my mind.
I’ve learned something new about myself today: there’s nothing more torturous than when your body and your brain decide to play for different teams. My body’s out here trying to score a point, but my mind? My mind’s already gone. Stuck on someone.
Someone with stormy gray eyes. Someone with heart-shaped lips I still swear I can feel pressed against mine.
And you know what’s messed up? I’m never this distracted. Yeah, sure…I’ll notice a hot girl in the stands, tight leggings, nice ass, and for maybe ten seconds I’m not thinking about anything else. But then it’s back to business, back to the puck. That’s normal.
This? This has been nonstop since last night.
Here’s the kicker, I’ve kissed a lot of girls. Like, a lot. High school alone, I had girls lining up games just for a shot at a peck.
College hasn’t been any different. I’ve kissed over fifty girls, maybe more, and I’m pretty sure I’ve checked off at least one from every continent at this point. I’ve had some amazing kisses, a few forgettable ones, and even some downright bad ones.
So why the hell can’t I stop thinking about one kiss with Katy Evans?
When I agreed to coach her on sex or whatever the hell that arrangement even is, I laid down rules.
Clear, simple rules. One of them being: none of it means anything. I told her that. Straight up.
So why am I the one who has to keep reminding myself of it? Why am I the one lying awake, replaying the way she tastes, the way she sighs when I touch her? Why do I have to keep telling myself I don’t want to kiss her again when my body’s practically begging me to?
“All of you, get out of here!” Coach bellows his signature end-of-practice call, and his voice snaps me out of my spiral. “And you, Cooper, get your head right before I see you again!”
I wince, shoving my stick against the boards.
“He’s definitely thinking about some chick, Coach,” Luke chirps, grinning like an idiot. A couple guys laugh, banging their sticks against the ice and I shoot him a look that says shut the hell up before skating off toward the tunnel.
The locker room is loud as always-gear slamming, showers running, and guys chirping each other nonstop. I peel my helmet off, sweat dripping down my face, and dump it into my stall.
“Got a problem, Cap?” Martin asks, smirking like he already knows the answer.
I roll my eyes, yanking off my gloves and pads. “I’m fine.”
“Fine, my ass,” Luke throws in from the other side, a towel around his neck. “Coach roasted you harder than I’ve ever seen.”
Now everyone’s staring. My teammates, the guys who know I’m usually locked in and never lose focus on the rink, are eyeing me like I’ve sprouted a second head.
And honestly? They’re not wrong. Because if I’m being real… something is off.
I grab a bottle from the case, gulp down the water in three long pulls, then crush the plastic in my fist.
“What do you mean?” I toss the question out like I don’t already know.
Martin snorts. “You were totally out of it out there. I would think you got dumped except you don’t date.”
The room breaks into low chuckles and before I can fire back, Luke jumps in.
“You can’t be so sure about that,” he says, his eyebrows lifting. “Word is he’s going for Justin’s sister. Must be serious, huh?”
“Wait, what?” Martin straightens on the bench, his eyes wide. “You’re hooking up with a teammate’s sister? The Justin?”
I plant my hands on my hips. “Why are you automatically assuming we’ve fucked?”
“Because we know you,” Luke says, grinning. “The only thing surprising is that Justin hasn’t already given you a black eye for touching his sister. I mean, does he even know?”
“And why her?” Martin cuts in, his head tilted. He hesitates just long enough for me to hate whatever’s about to come out of his mouth. “She’s not…” His eyes flicker with something I don’t like. “Not your usual bunny.”
The room goes quiet for half a second and my jaw clamps so tight my teeth ache. Not my usual? The way he says it like Katy’s somehow less, like she doesn’t measure up to the girls I’ve messed around with before, it grates in my chest.
I don’t even realize I’m glaring until Luke raises his hands. “Yo, chill, Cap. We’re just talking.”
Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want them to talk. Especially not about Katy Evans.
Because she’s not beneath anyone. She’s smart, fierce, and sexy in a way most people miss if they’re too busy staring at whatever’s in front of them. Before this deal, I caught myself checking her out sometimes when she came around Justin but I always forced myself to look away.
Now? I know better. I know what’s under those cardigans and baggy jeans she always wears, what she does with her lip when she’s nervous, what those big eyes look like up close.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.