Page 54 of Icing It

I stalk to the shower with my towel slung over my shoulder. I dodge my still celebratory teammates, hoping no one asks me what’s wrong because I know exactly what it is and I’m not willing to confess it to anyone but Cam.

And Cam’s sick of hearing it.

But he’s going to hear it tonight.

Every time I’ve brought Luna up in the past couple of months, he’s the one telling me to leave her alone, that she has to come to me, that I should make her work for it, that she knows exactly where to find me and if she wants me, she’ll come get me.

He’s starting to really piss me off.

Then again, the one night he and I went out and actually said we were going to try to find a girl to take home, he was picky as shit. He rejected every one I pointed out. He never does that. Come to think of it, he almost always lets me pick the girl. But that night, he was grumpy as hell and didn’t like anyone. Not that I was all that into it either. I was going through the motions, trying to show him I’m not a pathetic lapdog for Luna.

But when he finally pointed out a gorgeous, petite little blonde, and I brought her over to the table, it only took about ten minutes before he gave me a look and shook his head.

He was right, of course. I wasn’t interested in her at all. I didn’t want her at all.

But I should have, and what the fuck was going on?

Then Cameron was a complete dick after that. Grumpy and quiet, and went straight to bed when we got home.

I shut the water off and can hear the team still whooping and laughing out in the locker room. I towel off roughly.

The guys want to go out tonight, and I should go with them. I should get laid. Maybe take two girls home.

Or I should get shit-faced drunk.

I should definitely forget all about Luna McNeill.

I sling my towel around my neck and tip my head back.

But I’m not going to.

I need to see her.

My only debate really is do I tell Cam before I do.

I head back toward my locker, head down, hoping not to attract too much attention.

"There's our guy!" Blake yells out. "Ryan! Let's go!"

The problem is, being one of the stars on the team, playing a fucking great game, and usually being one of the guys leading the party, it's pretty hard for me to keep my head down.

I force myself to grin. "Can't go out tonight guys, sorry."

Blake looks at me as if I just announced I have to go perform open heart surgery. "What the fuck do you mean you can't? We gotta celebrate! You have to come!"

I shake my head. "Not tonight." I start getting dressed, hoping they'll drop it, and knowing they won't.

"You're gonna turn down cupcakes?" Crew asks. "I mean, head home like an old woman if you want to, but at least take some of the cookies or macarons to go."

I freeze with one leg in my pants, oxygen rushing out of my lungs and my body tightening.

Fuck. I cannot have this reaction every time I hear the words cupcakes, cookies, or macarons.

Fucking macarons. Before my time with Luna, I never realized how often those fucking things came up in conversation.

I blow out a breath and pull my pants the rest of the way up, zipping and fastening them as I turn to look at Crew. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Maybe he brought some stuff in from his sister's bakery. Maybe that will make me feel better if I can have a taste of her treats.

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