Page 15 of Icebound Hearts

Classes at Pleasant Oaks University are about what I expected—a mix of overachievers, sleep-deprived athletes, and students who are here because their parents have too much money and not enough supervision. I fall into the first two categories.

I sit in the back of my Statistics class, my notebook open, but my mind isn’t on standard deviations or probability distributions. Instead, I’m replaying last night’s game in my head.

More specifically, how Aiden looked at me when I teased him afterward. His hand around my wrist, his voice dropping to that low, almost dangerous tone. The way I felt breathless for half a second.

I shake the thought away, tapping my pen against my notebook.

Focus, Kat.

The professor drones on, and I do my best to pay attention, but my brain keeps drifting. The problem isn’t just Aiden— it’s everything: the pressure of training, school, and trying to prove myself in a country that still doesn’t feel like home. A folded note lands on my desk, breaking me from my thoughts. I glance up, catching Alina’s amused expression from two rows ahead. I unfold the note, recognising her neat cursive immediately.

You’re spacing out again. If this is about Aiden, blink twice. I roll my eyes but can’t fight the small smile pulling at my lips. I quickly scribble back.

It’s about how I’m going to kill you for that comment. I flick the note toward her, and she catches it effortlessly, giving me a knowing smirk before returning to the lecture. After class, we walk toward the main quad, the crisp fall air nipping at our skin. Roman and Alexei are waiting for us near the campus library coffee shop. Roman is leaning lazily against the counter while Alexei complains about the lack of decent Russian tea options.

“Just admit you like coffee,” Roman teases, sipping his iced latte.

Alexei glares. “I will not. Coffee is bitter and depressing. Like your soul.”

Roman grins. “My soul is delightful. Just ask Alina.” Alina, who had been in the middle of checking her phone, looks up, her cheeks slightly pink.

“Why me?”

Roman shrugs. “You seem to enjoy my company more than most.”

Alexei fake coughs. “Understatement.” Alina glares at him, but I don’t miss how her fingers tighten around her coffee cup. I exchange a quick look with Alexei. He notices it, too.

Roman and Alina are a thing. Or at least, they want to be a thing.

They just don’t know it yet.

I tuck that information away for later as we leave the coffee shop, heading toward the library’s double doors to get some studying in before training. We find a quiet table in the back, books and laptops spreading out as we settle in. Everything is fine.

Until the devil himself walks in. He spots us almost immediately, his dark eyes locking onto mine for a split second before he looks away. He’s with Will and Grayson; all three still carry that post-game energy. Will says something that makes Grayson laugh, but Aiden just nods, his expression unreadable.

I force myself to focus on my work, but it’s impossible. Not when he’s so close.

And then, because the universe loves testing me, he walks over.

“You’re in my seat, Angel Face,” he says, standing across from me.

I look up, arching a brow. “Oh? I wasn’t aware you had a reserved throne in the library.”

Roman snorts. Alexei hides his grin behind his laptop. Aiden sighs like I’m exhausting him. “You always have to be difficult, don’t you?”

“It’s one of my best qualities.”

Alina looks between us, eyes wide with amusement, but stays silent. I swear I hear Roman mutter, “Here we go again.” Aiden doesn’t move. He just stands there, waiting. I should tell him to find another seat, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of thinking he’s getting under my skin.

So, I move.

Slowly. Casually. Like I want to.

I grab my coffee, stand, and slide into the seat beside Alexei, stretching my legs out as if I hadn’t just ceded my spot to the enemy. Aiden smirks.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” I roll my eyes and turn back to my notes. For the next hour, I pretend he’s not sitting across from me, but it’s impossible. Every time I glance up, he’s alreadylooking at me. Every time I shift in my seat, I feel his gaze flicker to the movement. And worst of all?

I like it.

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