Page 165 of Icing on the Cake

“You were amazing.” I press a kiss to his temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

Elliot pulls back, his eyes shining with emotion. “I can’t believe I did that. I was nervous as fuck, but then I saw you, and everything else melted away.”

I cup his face and stroke my thumbs over his cheekbones. “That’s because you’re incredible, Elliot. And I’m the luckiest guy to have you by my side.”

We share a tender kiss, ignoring the whistles and catcalls from our friends. When we break apart, Oliver takes the stage.

“Alright, alright, settle down,” he says into the mic while grinning at the crowd. “I know we’re all here to celebrate the new year, so what do you say we get this party started?!”

The opening notes of Bruno Mars’s “Uptown Funk” fill the room, and Oliver sways his hips to the beat. He might not have the smoothest voice, but his enthusiasm and stage presence more than makes up for it.

The crowd goes wild, singing and dancing with him as he belts the lyrics. His sensational energy spreads through the room like wildfire. I join in, pulling Elliot close as we move to the music, our bodies pressed together in the best possible way.

After Oliver finishes his set, the crowd takes a moment to catch their breath. I spot Alex by the punch bowl and tell Elliot I’ll be right back. He nods, wiping sweat from his forehead, and heads toward the couch to take a breather.

“Alex,” I call out, waving as I approach. He’s scooping a generous portion of punch into a plastic cup, and his face is flushed from all the dancing.

“Gerard!” He hands me a cup. “Can you believe this turnout? It’s insane!”

I take a sip of the punch—spiked, of course—and nod. “Yeah, it’s one of the best New Year’s parties ever. How’s everything with you?”

Before Alex can answer, someone taps my shoulder. I turn around to find a tall, lanky guy with a mop of strawberry-blond hair beaming at me.

“Hey, Gerard!” He’s practically bouncing on his heels with excitement.

I blink, trying to place him.Nothing.“Uh, hi?”

“I’m Matt,” he announces, sticking out his hand. I take it and give it a polite shake, still totally clueless.

“Nice to meet you, Matt,” I say slowly. “Have we met before?”

He laughs, but there’s a hint of nervousness in it. “Not officially. I’m the guy from the bathroom stall.”

My mind races back to that day after the firstIce Queen blog post about me went live. I remember hiding in the restroom at The Brew, and some dude in the next stall told me to embrace my peach and not worry about what others thought.

“Wait,” I say, realization dawning. “You’re the guy who told me to embrace my peach?”

Matt nods, his smile widening. “Yep. That was me. Looks like you took my advice.”

I’m stunned. This whole time I wondered who that voice belonged to, and now here he is, standing in front of me like some kind of guardian angel.

“Thanks for that,” I say, genuinely grateful. “You really helped more than you know.”

Matt shrugs modestly. “I’m just glad to see you’re doing well. And that you’re not hiding that ass behind baggy clothing.”

I chuckle, scratching the back of my neck. “Yeah, it’s grown on me—literally.”

There’s an awkward pause, and Matt shifts from foot to foot. He has more to say but is unsure how to say it.

I take pity on him and break the silence. “Are you a fan of the team?”

His eyes light up again. “Huge fan! I’ve been following the Barracudas since freshman year.”

That explains why he’s at our party. Still, something about his sudden appearance feels…off. Maybe it’s just the mystery surrounding him.

“Well, it’s always great to meet a fan,” I say. “Enjoy the party!”

He beams. “You too!”

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