“Will you get dressed? We’re on a schedule here,” I shoot, as though the action wasn’t ludicrously attractive.
Peyton grins, shaking out the tee and slipping her arms through the sleeves. As she lifts them to pull it over her head, I get a direct view of her chest again.
Damn.
It’s supple, soft, the pink buds of her nipples hard in the cold morning air. I like the way her skin stretches as she reaches up, and the way it folds when she tugs the shirt back down.
“We still have ten minutes. Want to get another one out before we leave?”
My eyes flick up, catching onto hers. She’s got this ridiculous grin on her face, and I can’t fully tell if she’s joking or not, but it doesn’t matter.
“No,” I say pointedly, ignoring the pulse that sparks between my thighs. “We have to leave. And this—” I gesture between us. “Can never—”
“Never happen again, I know.” She rolls her eyes, tugging on a pair of black briefs. They hug her hips perfectly, the muscle in her toned stomach disappearing past the waistband. She adds in a mumble, “Should only count as once if I haven’t gotten dressed yet.”
I cross my arms. “Would you ever put on clothes if that were the case?”
Peyton’s grin widens. “Nah.”
“Exactly.”
Turning toward the door, my fingers curl around the worn brass knob. I pause, glancing back at her. She really does look beautiful, gray, baggy tee half-tucked into her briefs, her legs smooth and warm in the sunlight. Brown shaggy hair sticks out, dark lashes resting against her cheeks as she stares down at her phone. I clear my throat.
“I know we already talked about this, but… please don’t tell anyone.”
She looks up, golden eyes glimmering with amusement. “Are you kidding?” she says, a teasing smile forming. “I’m keeping you all to myself.”
Heat rushes to my face, and I quickly step into the fall air, hoping it’ll cool me down.
Ten minutes later, we’re all on the bus. Well, everyone except Peyton.
“Darce, where’s Clarke?” my mom asks, staring at the clipboard in her hand as I climb the steps. I hold my breath, scared that if she looks at me, she’ll know what we did. WhatIdid. My heart batters in my chest, crawling up my throat, and she looks up, frowning. “Darce?”
“I don’t know,” I answer quickly, hitching a shoulder. Then I wince as I take another step, hamstrings pulled tight.
I catch her eye, and her head tilts in concern. “You okay, sweetheart?”
I swear I feel a bead of sweat drip down my temple. “Flare up.” I nod, forcing a smile.
It’s true. Between the hike, skating, and.…that, every limb on my body feels like it’s ablaze. And since I didn’t want to risk Peyton seeing anything by following up on her promise of a massage, I had to take an extra painkiller when I was getting ready in the bathroom.
My mom pats my back gently. “Alright. Let me know if I can do anything, okay?”
“Okay.”
I push through the rows of seats. Harlowe’s already passed back out, drooling on Bailey’s shoulder while Mr. Bubbles slobbers in her lap. Behind them, Zayda and Lena huddle, watching what appears to be Love Island. On the right, Indie’s sitting alone, while Faith and Caydence talk about a PWHL game they watched at the cafeteria last night. Caydence’s eyes lock with mine as I walk past, and my jaw ticks.
I get it.
I understand being curious. I can see how, as the coach’s daughter who doesn’t play, me coming in and offering advicecould be frustrating. I don’t like that she looked me up, but I kind of expected it to happen eventually. What really pissed me off was that she shared it with everyone, reading it aloud like it was a joke. I wonder how funny she’d find it if she knew what really happened.
I slip into the window seat of the very last row on the left side, plopping down onto the neon eighties patterned fabric. Instead of packing my bag underneath the bus like most, I keep mine with me. Not only so that I have my meds just in case, but also so that I can set it in the seat beside me, in the event anyone—more specifically Peyton—tries to sit beside me.
I’m still trying to process it all. How she got me on the ice. Why I said I wanted her to kiss me. Why I meant it.
The portable charger in my hand vibrates when my phone chimes, and I glance at the screen.
ROOMIE
