Page 6 of Fractured Ice

Emma covers her mouth with both hands. Her eyes go wide. She holds it for about three full seconds before she has to look at the ceiling.

"Emma."

"I'm fine," she says, in the tone of someone who is having the absolute time of her life. "I'm completely fine. Ethan Walker tackled you."

"He ran into me."

"Was he wearing a shirt?"

"No."

She makes a sound I'd describe as a contained explosion and the person in front of us glances back. Emma waves at them without stopping laughing.

"Gray boxers," I add, because I feel like the full picture should be available, "soaking wet, chasing a ball that he was not going to catch. He didn't see me until it was too late.”

"And then?"

"And then he laughed. Before he even looked to see what he'd hit, he was already laughing."

"That's so him," Emma says, shaking her head, and she's right, it is, which is the annoying part. "Then what?"

"Then he looked down at my shirt."

She waits.

"It's white," I say.

Emma loses it again. I sit with my notebook open and let her get it out of her system, which takes longer than I'd prefer.

"He said something, didn't he?" she says when she can talk again.

"He said I looked good wet."

"Sienna…"

"I'm aware."

She cocks her head with a slight smile. “Were you at least wearing a good bra?”

I sigh. “I was.”

"And then you⁠—"

"Told him to get off me, got up, and went to class." I uncap my pen. "He walked with me anyway and tried to get me to go to dinner with him. I said no."

Emma props her chin in her hand. "You know he's into you, right?"

"Ethan's into everyone."

"He's not, actually."

"Emma, I've known him since we were four. I've watched him operate. He's charming and warm, then the next week he moves on and the person he was charming is still standing there trying to figure out what changed."

"So you've thought about it."

"I've observed a pattern."

"You've thought about it," she says, smiling, and I don't dignify that with a response because Professor Bennett walks in.