Page 2 of The Heart Breaker

I shove off the wall and cut through the crowd, shouldering past sweaty strangers because all I want is another drink. Something stronger. Something that might take the edge off the irritation winding tighter every time I look at her.

I never used to drink like this before Aurora showed up at Colton U. Now I can’t seem to make it through an hour with her in the room without reaching for something cheap and strong, hoping it’ll burn off some of the anger.

The vodka on the table smells cheap, but I pour a double anyway and let it burn on the way down. But apparently the universe still isn’t done fucking with me, because the second I turn to leave, she’s right there, cutting a path straight for the drink table.

In those heels, she’s damn near eye level, and her eyes narrow the second she spots me, her red mouth pressing into a hard line.

“Great,” she says with a sigh, rolling her eyes as she stops beside me. She doesn’t even look my way, just grabs a plastic cup and starts filling it with punch. “Didn’t expect to see you leave whatever dark corner you usually haunt.”

I take a slow sip of my drink, watching her over the rim. “Didn’t expect you to drag Westbrook trash into a Wolves party.”

Her eyes snap up, that sharp blue stare cutting straight into me. “Chase isn’t trash.”

A short laugh slips out. “Really?” I tip my chin toward the corner. “Because your boyfriend’s been eye-fucking that blondeall night.” My eyes narrow. “But sure. Great taste, Prescott. You always did know how to pick ’em.”

She goes still, her cup hovering halfway to her mouth, eyes narrowing into a glare sharp enough to cut. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I shift and let my gaze drift back to Chase. He’s already halfway into a conversation with the girl, like Aurora barely exists. It’s almost impressive how fast he works. “Pretty sure I do,” I say, tipping my chin in their direction before I look back at her. “And if you’re honest with yourself, you do too.”

For a second, she tries to act like she doesn’t care, but then she glances over her shoulder, just long enough to catch Chase with his hand on the girl’s arm, leaning in too close, and her shoulders go tight.

She doesn’t say anything, but I catch the way her brows pull together. For half a second, something almost like guilt pricks at me.

Almost.

Then I remember exactly who I’m talking to.

I lean in. “Can’t wait to see how long it takes you to figure out he’s not the guy you think he is.”

Her head snaps back around, a scowl already in place. “God, you’re such a dick.”

I shrug. “At least I’m not blind.” I tip my chin toward Chase, still laying it on thick across the room. “I’ve played against him, Prescott. I know exactly what kind of guy he is. He plays dirty on the ice and dirtier off it.”

I take a slow sip, keeping my eyes on her as her breathing picks up. “But go ahead. Keep pretending he’s some stand-up guy if that helps you sleep at night.”

She doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at me, her chest rising a little too fast. My grip tightens on the cup when my eyes—traitorous bastards—drop to where her top pulls tight across her chest for half a second before I drag them back up.

She arches a brow, that vicious mouth curving into a smirk, always so quick to put on a show even when her eyes are giving her away. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Reaper.”

The nickname hits like a strike to the ribs, but I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Jealous?” I tip my head, looking her over. “Trust me, Viper, I’m not interested in anything Chase Johnson’s already had his hands on.” I lower the cup and hold her stare. “I’m warning you. What you do with that is your problem.”

She crosses her arms, lifting her chin. “You really think I want your opinion on my love life?”

I let out a short, disgusted scoff. “I thought you had enough self-respect not to stand here defending a guy who’s making a fool out of you in front of the whole room.”

She goes still, and for a second the mask slips, her brows pulling together.

“You lose that viper bite whenever you’re around him. You know that?” I hold her stare. “It’s fucking pathetic to watch. Didn’t think you were that desperate.”

She opens her mouth, but for once, nothing comes out.

For a second, the fight slips out of her face and those blue eyes lose some of their anger, and something else flashes there instead.

She wants to act like my opinion doesn’t mean shit, like Chase hung the moon and I’m just another asshole looking to start something. But her eyes give her away.

She knows I’m right.

And she hates that I’m the one saying it.