Page 9 of Icebound Hearts

“Oh my god,” Alina whispers, inching closer with a knowing grin. “You like him.” I nearly choke on my drink.

“No, I don’t.” The denial comes too fast, too forced. Alina raises an eyebrow, waiting. I exhale sharply, dropping my head back in frustration. “I mean… yeah, my body is attracted to him, but he’s an asshole.” Her smirk deepens.

“Sure, Ale. Whatever you say.” I shoot her a glare, but it holds no real heat.

“Sometimes it’s okay to think about something other than figure skating,” she says, more serious this time. I frown, resisting the urge to shut down the conversation entirely. Her words settle uncomfortably in my chest. I risk another glance at Aiden—just in time for him to look at me. For a split second, our eyes meet. Something shifts. Just a crack. Just enough to feel it. I break eye contact first.

“Okay, let’s focus,” I whisper to Alina, forcing lightness into my tone. “Pizza time.” Alina lets it go, but I know what she’s thinking. She always sees more than I want her to. I push it aside and move back to the dough that Aiden has finished kneading, but the tightness in my stomach lingers. Across the room, Roman gravitates back toward Alina like he can’t help himself. The way he looks at her—there’s something there, something I don’t think even he realises. And maybe that’s why I suddenly feel this strange, quiet jealousy. Seeing them potentially falling for one another doesn’t make me want someone. It just reminds me that I don’t have someone.

I sit down on the stool next to Aiden’s before I can overthink it, glancing at him. “I think your best friend likes my best friend.” He smirks. That's exactly what I was just thinking.

“Seems like it.” His voice is quieter now. “I wish I’d been here to see Will’s face when he realised the girl he’s crushing on is Roman’s sister.” I burst out laughing at the thought. Will the ever-so-serious one being blindsided by the reality of Maddie? Yeah. That was good.

Aiden chuckles along with me, his eyes lingering on mine. And then he smiles. Not his usual cocky smirk. A real smile. The kind that softens his expression makes him look different—more open and human. The kind that makes my stomach feel like it’s doing backflips.

Shit.

Are we bonding? Ugh. Why does it feel like that? Before I can spiral any further, Aiden speaks again, breaking the moment. “Okay, pick your toppings. Half of the pizza’s yours, and half is mine.” He drops pepperoni onto his side, covering it with cheese. How original. I roll my eyes but focus on my half, carefully choosing each ingredient. Anything to not think about the way my body is reacting to him. The pizzas are in the oven five minutes later, and the kitchen smells incredible.

“Jenga time, bitches!” Alexei yells from the living room. I shake off the tension in my chest and follow the others to the game. We gather around the small table, our makeshift arena for the evening. Alexei sits to my right, Aiden to my left.

Too close. I can feel the heat of his proximity, the occasional brush of his leg against mine. But I don’t move away. Not yet. Alexei pulls the first block. “Rock, paper, scissors, shot with the person on your right.” He reads aloud before he turns to Greysen, who smirks, accepting the challenge. “Rock, paper, scissors, shot!” Alexei calls out, and Greysen holds up the paperwhile Alexei shows scissors. Greysen groans. “Drink up, pretty boy,” Alexei yells.

Greyson sips his cocktail, and Alexei smirks, effortlessly placing the block on top of the stack.

“My turn,” I mutter, shifting to my knees. I pull out a block and flip it over. I glance at Aiden, a challenge flashing in my eyes. “Do your best impression of the person to your left,” I announce. Aiden groans, dropping his head into his hand like the universe has personally wronged him. I giggle and stand up, clearing my throat dramatically. Then, with exaggerated confidence, I deepen my voice, puff out my chest, and lean forward.

“Angel Face. I told you, this is my rink. Only I can skate after hours. It’s booked by me, not you, so leave.” Laughter erupts around me, and I soak it in, grinning. But when I glance at Aiden, he’s not rolling his eyes or looking annoyed.

He’s just staring at me.

His lips curl into a slow, knowing smile. His dark eyes stay locked on mine, something unreadable flickering beneath the amusement.

“Cute, Ale,” he murmurs mockingly, using the nickname that only Alina ever calls me. The way he says it—soft, teasing, intimate—sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. I can feel the warmth spreading through my body, my cheeks heating against my will. I need to move. Step back. Create distance. But his smile. That damn smile—it’s too much.

“Hey, find your own nickname,” Alina interjects with a playful pout. “That one’s mine.”

Aiden just shrugs, but his eyes don’t leave mine. I sit back down, feeling the weight of something unspoken settle between us. It lingers, stretching between us like a taut wire, buzzing, waiting. Aiden pulls out a block next. The tower wobbles slightly as he flips it over. His brow furrows before he reads the challenge aloud. “Play tag. Loser has to finish their drink.” His gazesnaps to mine, his lips tilting into something smug, something dangerous. I raise a brow, smirking back at him. “Angel Face, are you ready to lose?” His smirk deepens.

“Hell no. I’m good at tag.” I push to my feet, adrenaline already coursing through me. The playful spark in my chest ignites.

“I’ll have mercy and give you a five-second head start,” Aiden says, his voice dripping with challenge. I don’t wait. I bolt. I take the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding against my ribs. My laughter rings through the house as I slip into the supply closet, pressing my back against the door. I hold my breath, so Aiden doesn’t hear me. He’s close. I can hear his footsteps approaching, his movements carefully calculated. Then, I make a break for it. I burst from the closet, dashing toward the bathroom, but he’s already seen me. The chase is on.

“There’s nowhere to hide, Angel,” he calls, voice full of amusement. I laugh, but it dies in my throat when two strong hands grip my waist. I barely have time to react before I’m being lifted clean off the ground, my world tilting as Aiden throws me effortlessly over his shoulder.

“Got you, loser,” he taunts, his grip firm, unrelenting. A nervous giggle escapes me—half from the tequila, half from the sheer ridiculousness of the moment. Then, my hair tie slips out.

My long waves cascade down, falling around us as I dangle over his shoulder. I feel the shift immediately—his grip tightening, his steps faltering slightly. When he finally puts me down, I push the hair out of my face, trying to regain some sense of normalcy. But Aiden is still watching me. His eyes darken, flickering with something I can’t name. His fingers reach out, brushing a few strands of hair from my face. He doesn’t pull away immediately. His touch lingers. And suddenly, I can’t breathe.

“You should let your hair down more,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. I swallow. Hard. My pulse hammers so loudly I swear he can hear it. I force a slight shrug, trying to play it off.

“Yeah, maybe.” Then I turn and head back toward the living room before I do something stupid.

When I sit down, Roman’s smirk is already waiting for me.

“Who won?” he asks, eyes darting between me and Aiden. I grab my drink, downing a large sip before answering. “Mister Perfect.” Roman’s brows lift slightly, but he lets it go. Aiden takes his seat next to me again, but something has shifted. He doesn’t engage with the game as much. He doesn’t make a show of teasing me like he had before his turn.

His focus stays on me.

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