Ryan levels him with a flat look. “Come on, man. I’m not asking you to fucking marry the girl, just help me out. Please.”
Cole clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring. He doesn’t answer right away, and for a second, I think he’s going to refuse again. Then he lets out a sharp exhale, muttering a low, “Fuck.” With a heavy sigh, he pushes off the booth, not even sparing the girl beside him a glance before heading for the dance floor.
He reaches Aurora in two strides, wrapping a firm hand around her wrist and yanking her toward him.
“What the hell?” Her eyes go wide as she jerks back. “What the fuck are you doing? Get off me.”
“Trust me, Viper, I don’t want to touch you either,” Cole snaps. “But you’re drunk as shit. It’s embarrassing.”
Aurora glares at him, ripping her wrist from his grasp. “No one asked you to come save me.”
Cole tilts his head, eyes darkening. “And what would your golden-boy boyfriend say if he saw you out here wearing a fucking belt as a skirt?”
Aurora arches a brow. “No one tells me what I can or can’t wear. Not even him.”
Cole scoffs, lips curling into a half-smirk. Then, without another word, he grabs her wrist again—firmer this time—and starts leading her toward the exit. “Let’s go.” He glances at Ryan as he walks past us, shooting him a glare. “You fucking owe me.”
13
ISABELLA
Isink into the bleacher seat, the cold of the ice rink seeping through my jacket. I’ve always loved it here. It brings me back to those early mornings when my dad would wake Nathan and me up before the sun had even risen, pulling us out to his rink to skate.
Aurora drops into the seat beside me, immediately diving into her bag. A second later, she pulls out a crinkling bag of chips, a candy bar, and a small bag of popcorn.
I grin. “Came prepared, huh?”
She shrugs, already mid-chew. “Hockey games make me nervous. Food helps.”
I nod, stealing a chip from her bag. “Because of your boyfriend?”
She nods, munching through her nerves. “Yeah. I always hated watching him get slammed into the boards.”
I smirk, nudging her elbow. “I bet the part where you get to take care of him after was fun, though.”
Aurora lets out a quick laugh, but it fades almost instantly. She sighs, staring down at the ice, fingers tightening around the candy bar. “God, I hate this long-distance crap. He’s so faraway, and we hardly ever talk. He’s got games, practices, a whole life that doesn’t include me, and I just…” She pauses. “He texts me to say whether they won or lost, but then… nothing. Hours of radio silence.” Aurora rips open her candy bar. “I know he’s probably out with the guys, getting drunk… maybe with some girl hovering around, trying to get his attention.”
Something tightens in my stomach, and the question slips out before I can stop it. “And you’re okay with that?” I honestly couldn’t imagine living with that kind of uncertainty, not knowing what my boyfriend is up to or who he’s with.
Aurora snorts, shoving a handful of chips into her mouth. “Of course not. But I’m not gonna sit here and obsess over it,” she says, tearing into the candy bar. “What am I supposed to do? He’s out there, I’m here. I can’t keep track of him every minute, right?” She shrugs. “If he wants someone else, then by all fucking means. I’m not gonna beg him to pick me.”
She says it like it doesn’t bother her, but I see the flicker of doubt in her expression.
“You guys have been together forever, right?” I say, nudging her lightly. “No way he’s throwing that away.”
Aurora exhales, glancing down at her snacks. “Yeah, I know.” She rolls her eyes, a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Plus, there’s no way he can find someone hotter than me.”
I snort, bumping her shoulder. “Oh, how I love your humility.”
She grins, grabbing another handful of chips.
I glance at my phone, check the time, then type out a quick message to Ryan. He gave me his number the night he drove me back to my dorm—just in case I needed anything, since I was pretty out of it. I haven’t used it since, but this feels like as good a time as any.
Me:
Good luck on the game today.
I lean back in my seat, staring at the message for a second, suddenly way too aware of how nervous I feel. It’s just a text—so why does it feel like my heart is trying to climb up my throat?
