Page 16 of Boots & Scars

Undeterred by his sour tone, I pressed on. "Were you ever going to tell us about your NHL career?"

He glowered at me. "It's not part of the curriculum."

"But people are going to ask," I pointed out, taking a wide turn around the rink's edge.

Cooper's expression hardened like ice under a sudden frost. "And they can keep asking," he snapped.

"Okie dokie," I replied cheerfully, undisturbed by his mood.

He let out a frustrated huff but said nothing more as we continued to skate in silence.

I couldn't help but feel a surge of triumph; I was skating — really skating — and with each stroke of my skates against the ice; I felt more alive than I had in a long time.

I coasted alongside Cooper, our blades carving parallel lines in the ice. The cold air nipped at my exposed skin, but I was too caught up in the moment to care. His presence was both unsettling and oddly compelling.

"So, why did you stop playing?" I ventured, my breath forming a cloud in the chill. "Is it because of what you did to poor Aaron Matthews? What did he say anyway?"

He tensed beside me, the easy rhythm of his skating faltering for just a heartbeat. "That's none of your damn business," he snapped, his voice a whip-crack in the silent rink.

Taken aback by his sharpness, I tried to steady my voice. "It's just that people usually have a reason for giving up something they're good at."

Cooper whirled on me, a tempest suddenly contained within the walls of the rink. "You know what? You ask too many questions," he growled. "Now get your ass off the ice."

His words stung like a slap to the face, but I refused to let him see just how much he'd rattled me. Meeting his glare with one of my own, I found my voice calm and even.

"You know," I said, "you could be more polite about it."

"Oh, could I,little girl?" he said with a sneer.

I nodded once, firmly. "You could."

Without another word, I turned from him and skated over to the bench. The chill in the air seemed to intensify with each stroke of my blades as I left him behind on the ice. Sitting down with deliberate slowness, I began to unlace my skates. My fingers worked at the knots, pulling the laces loose while my mind raced with thoughts of Cooper Sinclaire—a man made of ice and fire in equal measure.

Clad only in mismatched socks, I padded across the cold, damp floor to the skate counter, the sounds of my classmates' laughter still echoing in my ears. I handed over my skates to the guy behind the counter, who couldn't have been much older thanme. He was striking in a way that immediately made me think of those actors you'd see on a summer blockbuster poster, with a smile that could light up the entire rink.

When he caught my eye, his grin widened. "How was it?" he asked.

"It was amazing!" I exclaimed, feeling a surge of excitement as I recalled the feel of the ice beneath my feet. "I mean, at first, I thought I'd just embarrass myself in front of everyone, but once you get the hang of it... it's like flying, without ever leaving the ground."

He chuckled at my description. "Sounds like you caught the bug," he said. "I'm Zach." He extended his hand toward me.

I shook it, noting the warmth of his touch compared to the chill that clung to my skin from the ice. "Zach?" I echoed, liking how it sounded. "I'm Everly."

"A pretty name for a pretty girl," he replied smoothly.

I felt a blush warm my cheeks at his compliment and quickly looked away, hoping to hide it.

Zack leaned forward, the glint in his blue eyes full of mischief. "You know," he said, his voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper, "there's this party at my frat this weekend. We're kicking off spring break. You should come."

My eyes went wide, and I could feel them reflecting every ounce of my surprise. "Really?"

He chuckled, a warm, inviting sound that made me feel like I was already part of some secret club. "It's like you've never been invited to a party before," he teased.

I kept my thoughts tightly reined in, a smile plastered on my face to mask the truth. I most certainly had never been invited to a party before, but there was no way I was going to tell him that.

"Here," Zack said, extending his hand with a flyer in it. "Chicks get in free. And wear red. It means I invited you, and I want the credit.”

I took it from him, our fingers brushing briefly. "Thank you," I murmured, trying to sound nonchalant as I examined the flyer.

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