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As I take another step in and spot the two pizza boxes on the kitchen counter, the scent makes more sense.
“Thanks. We’re trying to keep it clean. We do okay most of the time.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and tilts his chin toward an open door. “Let’s hang out in my room.”
I lock my hands in front of me. “Do you mind if I talk to Michael first?”
He grimaces, but he catches himself quickly. “Erm, yeah, but are you sure?”
“Positive.” I nod. “I’ll be quick. Just need to settle something.”
“Okay.” He jabs his thumb toward his room. “I’ll be here. That,” he points to a closed door, “is his room.”
I shuffle down the hall and take a deep breath. Then, I open the door without knocking. It’s rude, and it’s not how I usually operate, but I don’t have time for pleasantries, and I want to make a point.
Michael stands with his back to me, drying his hair with a towel. He’s wearing a black tee and dark blue jeans. Quickly, he turns on his heel and homes in on me.
“Are you lost?” he asks, voice husky, as he lowers his towel. “Asher’s room is the next one.”
I pull my shoulders back. “I’m here for you.”
He arches his brow. “Oh? Finally ready to answer my question from the other night?”
“I need you to stop coming to my practices.” I curl my hands into fists. “Stop showing up. Stop standing in the dark like a…a stalker.”
A snort escapes him, his shoulders rising and falling. “A stalker? That’s new. Where are these fantasies coming from?”
“Kellan told me,” I spit out. “He said you’re at the arena every morning. What the hell are you doing, Michael? Why are you watching me skate?”
Surprise flashes in his eyes, though it’s quickly replaced by something darker, more intense.
“So let me get this straight.” He steps toward me. Dammit, he’s taller than I remember. He’s got to be six foot three. At five two, the top of my head barely reaches his collarbone. “You show up here, in my room, because you can’t stand the idea I might be looking at you?”
My heart lurches. “That’s not—”
“It is.” His voice drops, and he bows his head, the move casting shadows over his face. “You say you don’t want me near you, but you came here. For me.”
Heat prickles at the back of my neck. “I came here to tell you to stop. Whatever game you’re playing, stop. And if you have something to say to me, then say it. To my face.”
Eyes widening, he fidgets with his nose ring.
A nose ring? That’s new—
Isla, stop this! Now is not the fucking time!
I blink, forcing myself to focus on the topic at hand.
“And what exactly do you want me to tell you, Ice Queen?”
The nickname hits me like a punch in the chest, reopening an old wound. But no matter how much it hurts, I hold my head high. “The truth.”
“The truth? I’m not sure you can handle it.” He zeroes in on my lips and then drags his gaze down my throat. Time slows, the air between us almost crackling with electricity. “What if I told you I’m there every morning because I like watching you?”
I school my expression despite how hot my skin is, despite the growing warmth in my lower abdomen. “Honestly? I wouldn’t believe you. It’d be far more likely that you’re there in hopes of watching me fall and break something. Or because you’re bored and you like playing games with my mind. Either way, I want you to stay away from me.”
He rests a hand on top of his head, putting his full sleeve of tattoos on display. I force myself to stare at a spot near the collar of his shirt, ignoring the tattoos he has on his neck. All that to stay focused. I’ve trained myself not to look at him, to not notice him on campus. I need to continue doing just that, even when we’re this close.
“Why would I be rooting for you to hurt yourself when all I’ve ever wanted was to see you thrive?” His voice cracks, and something cracks inside me too, a warm liquid leaking out, heating me up while also making it hard to breathe. “Do you really think I’d get off on your pain? That I’m hateful enough to mess with your head when we both know how traumatic a fall on the ice can be? I used to leave my own practices early just to check on you,” he says, the words coming faster now. “I got benched more times than I can count because I couldn’t stop myself from making sure you were okay after a fall.” He shakes his head. “You have no idea what I’d do to protect you now.”
My heart stumbles, and my hands become clammy. I shake my head and step back even though every cell in my body begs me to stay, begs me to move in closer. “It doesn’t matter. If you keep coming to my practices, I’ll tell the athletic department you’re making me uncomfortable.”
