Page 63 of On Thin Ice

Skinny Jeans handed me a small whiteboard, lingering half a second too long when our fingers brushed. “This is going to be so great.” He flashed me a flirtatious little smirk that did absolutely nothing to heat my blood. There was a time, not too long ago, that it would have.

But because he seemed somehow integral to this project being a success, I played along. With a wink and a grin, I gave him just enough to go home today feeling good about himself. “Go easy on me. I’m delicate.”

Skinny Jeans chuckled, his chest puffing up a little.

Next to me, Ethan’s knee stopped bouncing. He sat up straighter, his jaw tight and his eyes narrowing as he watched the guy walk away. “Cut it out,” he muttered, low and sharp.

“Cut what out?”

“Don’t flirt with him.”

“I wasn’t,” I whispered back, trying to keep my voice low enough that no one would hear. A quick glance told me Blair, Guns, and Jeans—god, I really needed to learn their names—were several feet away, heads bent low over a piece of paper.

Ethan’s fingers curled into fists on his thighs. “Sure looked like it.”

That edge in his voice—that flick of irritation—made me pause.

Wait.

Was he jealous?

Before I could ask, Skinny Jeans returned, holding out erasable markers for Ethan and me to take.

Looking to test my theory, I let my fingers graze the kid’s when I grabbed the pen he offered, holding his gaze a beat longer than necessary.

A low rumble echoed next to me.

Oh my god. Ethanwasjealous.

I should not be as turned on by this discovery as I was, but this was pure fucking gold. How far could I get him to go before he snapped? Before he dragged me to a closet to show me exactly who I belonged to?

I knew I was poking the bear. I also knew I wasn’t about to stop.

I leaned in slightly toward the intern and dropped my voice to a purr. “You gonna make me look good?”

He flushed a deep scarlet and ducked his head.

Ethan made a sound so dark and dangerous it barely qualified as human, and the kid tripped over his own feet as he quickly backed away.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

Before I could enjoy the moment for too long, Blair clapped her hands to get our attention. “This is going to be super easy. We’re going to start with Ethan. I’ll ask you, Bell, a question about your roommate-slash-linemate-slash-victim—” she grinned at her joke “—and you’ll both write your answers on your whiteboard. Make sure you keep it secret—no peeking. Then, I’ll repeat the question, and you’ll hold up your boards at the same time. Remember, you only get points if you match.”

The little red light on her camera blinked on. “Okay, first question,” she called out. “Bell, what’s your roommate’s go-to pre-game meal?”

I snorted at how easy this was and started scribbling. When I was done, I flipped my board over onto my lap. Even though I wasn’t supposed to peek, I couldn’t help darting my eyes in his direction.

He was still writing. After a few seconds, he used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe the board clean and started over. Finally, he finished answering, muttering something under his breath about “stupid fucking game.”

“All right, boys. On the count of three—one, two, three.”

I flipped my board to the camera and leaned forward to see how Ethan had answered. I couldn’t help the laugh that erupted out of my mouth.

On his board, he’d written,“Half a box of pasta with one chicken breast, a head of steamed broccoli, no butter, and three glasses of water.”

“That is … extremely detailed,” Blair said, her voice shaking—whether from suppressed laughter or nerves, I wasn’t sure.

She turned her attention to my board, where I’d written,“Pasta with chicken and a weird amount of broccoli.”

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