Page 38 of Off The Ice

“Girl roommate. Potential girlfriend. Whatever.” He swatted away the air. “Point is, look at you rushing off to get home instead of talking with your best friend. Is this what it comes down to? Have we finally reached the point where I have to share you with some woman?”

“All I’m doing is going home. Like I do every night after practice,” I said, edging toward the door.

“Whatever,” he called out. “But when the wedding comes around, I’ll be rightfully pissed if I’m not the best man, okay?”

And because I knew it was the only way to appease him and close the conversation so I could just get out of there, I told him, “Okay. You’ll be the best man.”

Chapter Fourteen

Cassie

Inever thought I’d be so ecstatic over ice in my life, but once you’re at a certain point in your twenties, the little things start to make a difference.

Like the built-in ice maker that came with Liam’s top-of-the-line fridge. I screwed off the lid of my reusable tumbler, doing a happy dance as I pressed the cup against the ice dispenser.

As I filled the cup to the top with cold, crunchy ice, I heard the rattle of keys and the sound of the door swinging open right in the middle of my awkward flailing dance.

“Liam!” I spun around with a guilty expression on my face.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked casually, leaning against the doorframe as the hint of a smile formed on his lips.

Dressed in his joggers and hoodie, I was startled to realize he looked just as good in that as he did in his gear.

“No, I was just having a moment of appreciation for your ice maker.”

“My ice maker?” His brows nearly hit the top of his forehead as a grin overtook the bottom half of his face. “Are you serious?”

“What?” I blushed furiously. “I’ve never had one before. With the amount of water I drink, this is literally life-changing.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Well, I’m glad to be able to provide that weirdly specific joy for you.”

Liam dropped his bag by the door before coming closer, filling the kitchen with his larger-than-life presence. I fought the urge to retreat.

“What’s all this?” He looked around at the food I had set out on the kitchen island. His eyes scanned the plates of chicken parmesan I’d set out for us.

“Oh!” I said sheepishly. “I made you dinner.”

“Dinner?” he asked, uttering the word as if it were a foreign concept.

“Yeah, as a thank you for everything.” I shrugged. “And I know you’re probably tired from practice, so we don’t have to eat together or anything, but I just thought in case you were hungry…” I finished with an awkward shrug.

I stared up at him expectantly, watching closely for his reaction. It was a habit I’d picked up in childhood as a result of growing up with my mother. Even though I was a grown adult now, I still found myself always on edge, waiting to see what a person’s next move would be.

Anxiety churned in my stomach as he stared at the plates with an unreadable expression. His hand reached to cup the back of his neck, and I was certain I’d screwed up the precarious nature of our living situation by making him think I wanted him to dine with me.

“I’m sorry. You probably had your own dinner plans already.” I moved toward the plates, preparing to clear them. “Really, don’t worry about this. I’m sorry.”

“No, Cassie,” he said, reaching out a hand to stop me in my tracks. “It’s not that. I was just surprised.”

I paused, looking up at him warily. “Surprised?”

His gaze flickered from where they’d been glued on the plates till they landed on me, and something in his expression shifted.

“I just wasn’t expecting this,” he started, “No one’s ever—” He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening before he tried again. “This is nice.”

I felt my face heat, resisting the urge to hide behind my hands. “You really don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to. I won’t be offended.”

“Cassie, it looks great,” he said, sitting down in front of one of the plates. “Really, I can’t think of anything better to come home to.”

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