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“You wouldn’t keep your hands to yourself. And I can’t sleep with one eye open every night. This season is too important for that.” I shake my head vehemently, as if somehow my action will shake the idea out of Cutter’s head too.
“Wanna bet?” He purses his lips, a cocky smile faintly curving the edges of his mouth as he holds out a palm. I glance down at his hand and laugh it off. He nudges his palm a little closer. “I’m serious. We’ll make it a bet. We’ll share the room and whoever catches feelings first has to leave.”
His challenge piques my curiosity, along with my competitive side.
“When you put it like that, it sounds like a sucker’s bet,” I say, unfurling my arms from around my body and holding my palm up yet still not out to shake his.
“Then what do you have to lose?” His mouth twists into this arrogant pucker.
“You won’t make it a week,” I laugh out, giving in and shaking his hand. His fingers wrap around my palm and he gives me a slight squeeze. There’s a roughness to his skin.
“Ha, okay. You think you’re that irresistible, huh?” He breaks our hold first, and I take that as my first tiny win.
“No, I just think you’re that weak.” I snatch up my phone and take my friend off speaker. I hold my phone up to my ear. “You hear all that?” I ask her.
“Yeah, and I think it sounds like a really bad idea.” Ivy sighs into the phone, and I pass by Matt, who is still standing in the center of the room wearing a dumbstruck expression.
“I can handle anything Cutter McCreary can throw at me,” I profess, and I make sure I say it loud enough that Cutter hears as I leave the room and march into the living room to grab the first batch of my many boxes.
“Yeah, maybe. Just remember what you’re supposed to be focusing on this year. Beating Cutter isn’t going to make or break your future,” Ivy says. I pause at the first stack of boxes and push my tongue into my cheek as I nod.
“Fair point. I promise to hardly notice he’s here until he’s gone.”
“It’s a good plan. Look, I’ve gotta get back. We’ll catch up more tomorrow when I’m off.” We both say our goodbyes and I tuck my phone into my sports bra to free up both hands so I can carry my moving boxes into my room for the second time.
Matt is streaming video on his phone as I walk in, putting his own spin on things and likely turning this into a public spectacle. “Team hockey versus team volleyball is happening under my roof, y’all. Your boy Cutter is facing off against Laney Price for the last room near campus. And the tension in this place is unreal!” I roll my eyes, then drop my boxes on the floor beforesmacking Matt’s phone out of his hand and sending it tumbling into the hallway.
I shoot Cutter a challenging glare.
“Dude, Laney. Come on,” Matt whines as he makes his way out of the room, leaving Cutter and me on our own to sort out the details of this arrangement.
“Well, are you going to just stand there or are you going to help me move back in?” I tug the closet door open and push the hung dress shirts, jackets, and hoodies to one side, then snap my gaze back to him. “ I hope you don’t think you get the closet to yourself.”
“Of course I’ll help. I’m nothing but a gentleman.” Cutter snags a white T-shirt from one of the drawers and slips it over his head. I subconsciously study his forearms and then his abs as he works the shirt down his body, halting my ogling when I realize I’ve been caught.
“You prefer I keep this off?” he teases, tugging at the hem of the shirt and stepping into the doorway. I let my eyes roam down the center of his chest again then back up to his eyes before I shrug.
“I prefer you don’t exist,” I say before slipping by him and willing myself not to count his freakishly perfect abs by memory. I add some extra sway to my hips while I’m at it since he’s now walking behind me. If I want Cutter out of here in a week, I’m going to need to turn up the heat a little.
“Afraid you’re stuck with me, Laney. All. Night. Long,” he says, drawling the words out in a way that seeps into my stomach and warms my insides.
Shit.
“I’m sure I’ll barely notice,” I toss over my shoulder before training my focus on the next stack of moving boxes. I bend down and hoist them into my arms, but as I turn, Cutter is waiting with a grin and open palms to take the load from me. Ilet him, but then quickly realize as he walks away that now I’m the one left watching his ass and broad shoulders and stupid wavy hair that tickles the back of his neck.
Nope. Nothing to see here at all.
4/
cutter
I tookthe high road last night and slept on the couch. Which is too small for my body. And left me with a massive crick in my neck this morning. Nothing like waking up to skate at the crack of dawn when your body is literally clicking like a LEGO man’s. I could tell everything was going to be a battle, though. And the more Laney thinks of me as a nice guy, the easier it will be to win her over in other ways. Since she pretty much hates me now, I’ve got a steep climb.
“Dude, no offense but you look like shit today,” Chuck says as he shoots the pucks back to me. He wanted to get some extra defensive work in this morning, and I needed to hit shit hard, so it works out for both of us.
“What looks shittier? My shot or my face?” He better say my face. I haven’t shaved in three days, and my beard grows fast—and kind of wild.
“Hard to say,” he coughs out. I rear back and slap the puck at his chest. He snags it with his glove, then laughs.
