Page 65 of On Thin Ice

Whenever I got too in my head about our age difference, Bell tried to talk me down from the ledge by quoting Mark Twain at me, saying, “Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter—and I don’t mind, Ethan.”

I tried to cling to that now, but the words barely made a dent in the noise between my ears.

“Okay, today we’re keeping it conversational,” Blair chirped from behind the camera, her voice slicing through my spiral like a splash of cold water. “Just pretend this isn’t even here.” She gestured at a camera that was so close it felt like it could film the inside of my skull.

Bell shifted his knee closer to nudge mine under the table, his jeans brushing against my sweats, rough denim scraping soft cotton.

Friendly. Casual. Normal.

Except it wasn’t. Not for me.

Not when my body reacted like he’d slipped a hand under my clothes instead.

I locked my jaw and stared straight ahead, breathing through my mouth so I wouldn’t have to smell his damn cologne and accidentally get hard.

Get it together, Harrison. You’re a professional.

“You both played hockey for Thackeray College, but more than a decade apart,” Blair said, launching right in. “Did you ever think you'd end up teammates?”

Bell laughed, the sound skittering over my skin. “Honestly? I never even thought I’d meet him.”

I grunted, shifting in my seat. “Yeah. I was already long gone before he got there. Probably no one even remembered my name.”

Bell snorted, and I couldn’t help glancing at him.

“Um, dude. You held the record for most goals scored in a single season for ten years.” His mouth curved in a shit-eating grin, pure mischief sparking in his eyes. I knew what he was going to say before the words even left his lips. “Until I came along and broke it.”

Off camera, Blair chuckled. “And how did that feel, Ethan?”

I lifted one shoulder in what I hoped looked like an unbothered shrug. “It was bound to happen sometime.”

If it had been anyone other than Bell, it reallywouldn’thave been a big deal. But because it was him, I’d been a little bit pissed off.

Okay, a lot pissed off.

“And then Bell was drafted by the Aces,” she continued, having no clue she was dragging me down a very slippery slope.

I fought not to flinch, not to let anything show. I remembered that night way too fucking clearly. The way I’d gone home and pulled up clips of him skating, lithe and reckless and stupidly beautiful, and let myself think things I had no business thinking about someone that young. Shame and want had tangled so tightly in my gut that I thought I would throw up.

Blair flipped to the next card, her voice bright when she said, “You both played for Coach Halstrom. Any horror stories to share?”

Jorgen Halstrom was a bit of a legend in hockey circles. He’d played professionally for a number of years before a career-ending injury cut his time on the ice short. He’d been a big, bruising player, the type of guy you never wanted to cross. He had a terrible temper and a big mouth, but he knew the game in a way not many people did. Absolutely no one expected him to go into coaching, but a couple of years before I went to college, he’d married a Linguistics professor at Thackeray and had started coaching there. The man was gruff and could be a mean fucking bastard, but there was no denying he got results.

Bell immediately perked up. “God, yes. He was terrifying.”

I snorted under my breath, some of the tension in my chest easing. Talking about my old coach was so much better than discussing what it was like to find out I’d be playing alongside my forbidden obsession. “Yeah. And lucky for you, he’d mellowed out by the time you got there.”

Bell turned toward me, laughing openly.

Christ, he was impossible not to look at when he was like this—happy, unguarded, just pure fucking light.

“Mellowed out?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “He once got tossed from a game for screaming at a ref so loud you could hear him on the broadcast. If that’s mellow, I’d hate to see what qualifies as intense in your mind.”

The words hit me out of nowhere:My feelings for you.

My pulse throbbed in my temples as flashes of us the night before surged through my mind—Bell’s hands gripping my shoulders, his breath hot against my neck, the way he’d whispered my name and told me to let go already.

I locked my jaw, grinding down on the words that threatened to spill out, and forced a neutral expression on my face. I stared straight ahead, feeling like I was two seconds away from saying or doing something incredibly stupid as Blair’s voice cut back in.

---