Page 35 of Jaded

My fingers tighten around the tape grip of my stick. Nobody but Charlie knows I come here not to bet, as the rest of the underground does, but to skate. I intend to keep it that way. “You shouldn't have.”

“Be nice,” Charlie adds. “Or I'm keeping the money when you win.”

“I said fuck off. I never bet on myself.” I nudge him sideways, or I start to, because as I put my glove against his shoulder to push, I catch sight of a face in the crowd, just past that shoulder.

A familiar face. A face far too pretty to blend into the crowd.

Soft sepia skin, cropped black hair, deep brown eyes fringed in a forest of lashes above angled cheekbones.

Carved, kissable lips—

“Shit,” I hiss before I realize I’ve spoken. My hand drops down to my side. “It’s him.”

“Him who?” Charlie turns, brow furrowing, to follow my gaze.Himstands out to me, but really, he’s just another guy in a jacket and jeans. Well, more specifically a Bills hoodie.

His gaze swivels towards me, and my breath catches against the back of my throat. Not that it matters; I’m unrecognizable in long sleeves and a mask.

“Wait.” Charlie’s brow furrows as he realizes where my eyes have landed. “Shit. That’s Olli James. How the hell’d he already find out about the Ice Out?”

“Anita,” I realize with half a groan. “I bet Anita told him—”

“Wait, wait, wait. Back up.” Charlie’s still staring at Olli, which would be concerning except for how many people cluster around us, how we’re all faceless. “Am I reading this right? Olli James—Olli fucking James—is your bar boy?”

“Um. I don’t know how you got there—”

“You kissed him?”

I sigh. “Yeah.”

“Dude.” Charlie’s still staring. “I thought maybe you were talking about some random frat boy or something—”

But at that moment, the gate behind me slams open, jerking my attention back to the ice. Three skaters spill off, one of them holding the sleeve of his jersey to his clearly broken nose.

“Let’s go, Robin.” Batman slams my shoulder with a gloved fist. “I ain’t losing tonight.”

“Don’t worry.” My gaze slides sideways, back to my ghost against the boards, then returns to my teammate’s masked face. “Neither am I.”

Chapter 10

Olli

TheIceOutisnot what I expected. Like, at all.

I knew, from the moment I descended a long, ill-lit staircase into a frigid bowl of bodies and mildew, that this would be . . . something else entirely. Now, as I fight to hold my place against the makeshift wooden boards lining the sprawling expanse of ice, I think I have never seen anything remotely akin to this insanity.

For one, there are more people than I expected. Like, a lot more. Like, so many more than seems even rationally possible, considering the size of the city and the comparison of fans at Dingoes games.

There are way, way more people here than at the city’s pro hockey games.

It’s crowded as all get-out in this makeshift arena, sweating bodies pressed together around the dented and dinged boards, breathing booze and cigarettes into the stale, icy air. But where I’d expected dozens, maybe hundreds, there are literally thousands and thousands.

For another, well . . . let’s just say this isnota family-friendly event. Nor is it a high-school-kid event. I’ve seen four fights in the last ten minutes, pretty sure at least one drug deal, and a whole lot of illegal gambling and betting.

I mean, yeah, I catch sight of the occasional high school kid who’s snuck past the door guards. But for the most part, you got a lot ofhardened adults waving and stomping and screaming and probably drinking themselves stupid.

For the number of people crammed in here, you gotta know that the cops know about it, which leads me to believe they’ve either been paid off to turn a blind eye, or . . . hell. They’re probably down here betting with all the rest.

Case in point, yeah. There might be some folks who look like they just rolled in with a biker gang—the ghost-pale man next to me is wiry as hell, has face tattoos, and wears a leather jacket that looks like it’s taken a tumble off at least one motorcycle. But most of these people are just . . . people.

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