Page 120 of Icebound Hearts

“Shut up.” Alina hums, clearly amused.

“You do realize you’re the one who pushed him away, right?”

“I know,” I grit out.

“And yet, you look about two seconds away from throwing her into the boards.”

“Please, stop.”

Alina snickers, but thankfully, she doesn’t push it. Instead, she stands and stretches, glancing at Aiden again before smirking at me. “You should do something about it.”

I scoff. “Like what?”

She grins. “I don’t know. Maybe remind him why he was obsessed with you in the first place?”

I narrow my eyes at her. “That’s a terrible idea.”

She shrugs. “Maybe. But it’d be fun.” I roll my eyes, but the idea sticks in my head. Because if Aiden wants to play this game, if he wants to act like I didn’t rip him apart just a week ago—fine.

Two can play. I step onto the ice, sliding past Aiden without looking at him, but I know he sees me. I make sure he does.

Everything I do is sharper, more precise. Every spin, every jump—flawless. Because if he’s going to entertain the idea of someone else, I want him to remember exactly what he had.

And it works.

I feel his gaze on me. I feel the tension every time I pass him, every time he tries to ignore me and fails and by the time practice ends, I can see the frustration brewing in him.

Good.

Let him burn.

But just as I start untying my skates, I hear her voice—her voice—again.

“You coming tonight, Aiden?” I don’t know what pisses me off more—her confidence or the fact that he doesn’t immediately say no. Something bitter rises in my chest. Before I can stop myself, I stand, grabbing my water bottle and tossing it onto the bench next to Aiden. Hard. His brows furrow as he looks up at me. I smile, sweet and fake.

“Don’t stay out too late, Aidy.” I say with a taunting smirk. He glances at me in disbelief but doesn’t say anything. The girl glances between us, confused, but Aiden doesn’t acknowledge her.

His attention is all on me.

Good. I grab my bag and leave, ignoring the way my heart is racing. Because if he thinks I’m just going to sit back and watch him move on—

He’s out of his damn mind.

The party is suffocating. Music pounds through the walls, the bass thrumming in my veins, but it’s not enough to drown out the thoughts screaming in my head. The ones that have been clawing at me since I walked away from Aiden at the rink.

I shouldn’t have come. I knew he would be here. Knew that the second I saw him, I’d feel this unbearable pull all over again. And yet, I came anyway. Because I’m a masochist. Because I need to see him, even if it hurts.

And God, does it hurt. He’s across the room, leaning against the kitchen counter, a drink in his hand, looking unfairly good in a fitted black shirt that clings to his arms. His jaw is sharp, lips pressed into a tight line, but his eyes—

His eyes are already on me.

Watching. Waiting. I swallow hard, tearing my gaze away, but it’s useless. The tension crackles like a live wire, and I can feel the weight of him even from across the room. I try to ignore it. Try to pretend that it doesn’t send heat rushing through my veins.

I fail. I make it all of twenty minutes before Aiden finds me. Or maybe I was waiting for him to. Either way, when I step into an empty hallway, desperate for air, he’s suddenly there.

Blocking my exit. Trapping me between him and the wall like he’s done so many times before.

I reach for the doorknob of the room next to me and exhale in relief when the door opens. I walk in and Aiden follows right behind me. He stares at me, really looks at me, but this time, there’s no smirk. No teasing remarks. Just fire burning beneath his skin.

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