Page 35 of Icebound Hearts

“Like convincing yourself that that guy still has any power over you.” I inhale sharply, my nails digging into my palms.

“I don’t—” Aiden steps closer, close enough that I have to tilt my head up to meet his gaze. “Yes, you do. And I get it. But you don’t have to.” My throat tightens. “I don’t need you to fight my battles, Aiden.”

“I know,” Aiden answers, his voice steady. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t.” I hate that my heart stumbles at his words.

“Why? You hate me,” I say, scratching the tip of my nose unconsciously. I stop, staring at my hand. I’m nervous. I only do that when I’m nervous. Around Aiden? Oh my god! Alina was right. When Aiden doesn’t answer, I look away, swallowing hard.

“I just want to move on.” He nods and exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Then let me help.” I glance back up at him, searching his face. “Why?” I ask again, needing an answer. An explanation as to why he cares. His jaw flexes like he’s debating how much to say or not to say.

“Because I don’t hate you, Angel face, and I don’t like seeing you like this.” My breath catches.

Because that’s not teasing, that’s not banter. That’s real.

Chapter sixteen

KATERINA

It’s official—I hate how much I think about him. Ever since yesterday, Aiden has been living rent-free in my head, and I want to evict him. Immediately.

I don’t care about him, or how he looked at me after the qualifier, or that there was something in his eyes last night that wasn’t the usual cocky arrogance. I shouldn’t care. But then I walked into the kitchen this morning, and there he

was—half-asleep, shirtless, standing in front of the fridge glaring as if it had personally offended him. I should’ve turned around and left. I should have.

Instead, I opened my stupid mouth.

“Rough night, Knight?” He groans, rubbing a hand down his face before shooting me a glare.

“Do you wake up actively looking for ways to annoy me?” I smirk, loving how this is getting to him.

“Oh, absolutely, it’s the best part of my day.” He exhaled sharply, grabbing the milk carton and chugging straight from it like a Neanderthal. I wrinkled my nose. “You live with other people, you animal.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at me entirely too amused.

“You wanna share a glass, Hart?” I almost throw my coffee at him. Instead, I grab a banana off the counter and launch it at his head. He catches it without even looking.

Of course, he does. “Impressive aim, Angel Face,” he muses, peeling the banana calmly. Like he wasn’t the most infuriating person to exist. I scowl.

“I hope you choke on it.” Aiden grins around his first bite. “You’d miss me too much, baby.” The word of endearment makes me pause. Why do I like it?

Before I can respond—before I can come up with a perfect, cutting remark—Roman and Will walk in, immediately sensing the energy in the room. Roman smirked.

“Are we flirting? Or fighting?”

“Both,” Will said without hesitation as he continued to eat his cereal.

I throw my hands in the air in defeat. “I hate all of you.” Aidens smirk grows, shoving the rest of the banana in his mouth before winking at me. Winking.

I storm out of the kitchen, yelling curse words at the boys before I commit a crime.

By the time I get to class, I’ve almost managed to shake off my irritation. Almost.

But, of course, the universe isn’t on my side today because the only empty seat in our biology class is next to him. Aiden looks up as I approach, a slow, taunting grin spreading across his face.

“Missed me already?” I plop into the seat, dropping my bag onto the desk with a little too much force.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He leans back, arms crossing over his chest, with a smile on his face. “You’re the one who sat here, Hart.” He chimes in, his stupid boyish grin making him look handsome.

“It was either this or sitting next to the guy who chews his gum like a goat. Aiden chuckles. “Wow. I feel so special.” I roll my eyes, pulling out my notebook, determined to ignore him for the rest of class. I can do this.

Except I can’t because halfway through the lecture, I feel something brush against my foot. I freeze. It happens again—a slight, deliberate nudge against my ankle. I don’t react. I won’t react—another nudge. I exhale slowly, keeping my gaze trained on the professor. He wants me to respond.

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