Ice Bet: A Forbidden Hockey Romance (Bexley U)

My mouth still felt different, even days later. Aasher continued to surprise me every step of the way with his behavior. Our own ice bet? Why did I agree to that? And why the hell did I slide onto his lap and make him kiss me to seal our deal?

Aasher was messing with my head, and I didn’t think he even knew it. I’d been hyper-focused on tonight, wondering what it would feel like to have the ice beneath my skates again. During class, my leg bounced up and down a million miles a second as I counted the hours between then and now. Everyone stared at me like I was crazy, and a few younger hockey players smirked at me as they looked down to my thumping leg and back to my face.

I ignored them, though, because there was only one hockey player on my mind. He was so certain he’d get me back on the ice that he allowed me to take a picture of our kiss for blackmail.

It was all a ploy, though.

I’d never do something like that, unless severely provoked, but it felt good to have the upper hand for a second before he ambushed my mouth and tricked my body into thinking things that were downright forbidden.

“I see you are punctual.” Aasher’s voice came from behind me, but I didn’t turn around.

I hadn’t seen him since we made our bet, but when Sutton and I put their away game against Shadow Valley on the TV and watched them slay against an equally good team, I noticed how my eyes kept following him on the ice.

“And I see you are not,” I countered, seeing his shadow move along the stairs before he made it to where I was sitting. He took a seat beside me, and I could tell he had showered after practice, because his clean, inviting scent was even stronger than before. He smelled good.

“I had to wait for everyone to leave before I could come back and lock myself in the rink with the coach’s daughter.”

There was an uptick in my pulse that I blamed on nerves instead of the thought of being locked away with him. The kiss. It messed me up. 

“I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

I chose to look over at him. I stopped breathing when our eyes clashed. He looked at my mouth before pulling away at the last second. Heat rushed to my cheeks.

“Sully and I have a bad reputation for competing against each other. If he thinks I’m trying to get to you before him, he’ll really try to score with you.”

I crossed my arms over my sweater and sunk back into my normal self, riding the wave of irritation at the mention of the other ice bet. “I can handle him.”

Aasher reached over and tugged on a piece of my hair like an eight-year-old. I gasped and shot him a dirty look. His freshly shaven jaw was sharp with authority, and I shut my mouth the moment he opened his. “I know you can, but when I win this bet and get you back to doing triple-triples on the ice, you’re not going to talk to a single hockey player again. Right?” His eyebrow crooked upward as he waited for my agreement. “That’s part of the bet, Riley. Say it with me.”

My scoff was as good as a refusal. His chuckle rubbed against me like ice on my skin. “You are such a brat.”

I stood and peered down at his lazy posture on the seat. He was in the very first one, which probably wasn’t a coincidence, because it was very clear that Aasher Matthews had a complex that bled confidence. He probably sat there because, in his head, he was number one.

“I’m waiting, Riley.”

He was so irritating. 

I sighed. “Fine.”

His eyebrow rose. I rolled my eyes.

“I won’t talk to a Bexley U hockey player if you win our bet.”

Aasher chuckled. “You’re too smart for your own good. Just had to add in that Bexley U part, yeah?”

“What’s wrong with talking to other hockey players? That’s not part of our little agreement.”

He stood up and leaned down into my space. “Our ice bet, you mean.”

I felt more amped up the longer I talked to him. Aasher had a way of making me feel everything deeper than usual. Irritation? I was ready to explode with insults. Desire? I had to force myself not to go in for another kiss after he let go the other day. “Whatever. Let’s just get started.”

“Follow me.” Aasher slipped past me, but before he got too far, his fingers wrapped themselves beneath mine, separating them from my skates. “No skates.”

“No skates?” I repeated, confused.

“No. Skates.” He un-pried my fingers, one by one, and placed my skates on the ground.

Then he put his back to me and began walking down the aisle. I chased after him. “How am I ever going to get back to skating if I’m not even using my skates?”

Aasher didn’t answer me, which was no surprise. He put his hands on the ledge of the side wall and flung himself over with ease, landing below with a precise thud. Hockey players were probably some of the most able-bodied athletes there were. Their precision on the ice carried over to the steady ground, and I was convinced they could do anything. Being on skates was a skill that had to be honed and most of the hockey players I knew had the dexterity of someone who lived and breathed athleticism and had room for nothing else.

“Come on,” Aasher yelled from below, and I quickly rose to my tiptoes, placing my hands on the same wall he had hoisted himself over.

“I am not jumping.”

“I’ll catch you.”

No. “Why can’t I just go to the entrance like a normal person?”

He shook his head and adjusted his backward hat. It was really unfair how he looked so good in his black joggers, BU long-sleeve shirt, and hat. He was casual but still insanely attractive. “Because you aren’t a normal person. You’re Coach Lennon’s daughter, and the last thing we need are rumors of how you and I were spotted alone in the rink together after hours.”

He had a point.

I puffed up my cheeks and put my hands on the ledge, propping myself up. My muscles woke up, rushing with adrenaline from the thought of being on level ground with the ice. I gritted my teeth as I dragged a leg over the side and then the other. A rush of fear whipped through me as I dangled there with my fingers slipping against the tiny ledge.

“Jump, Duster,” Aasher called out from below.

“I can’t.” The distant memory of my childhood coach flashed before my eyes, barking out an order to do three hundred pendulum exercises for saying the word can’t.

“You’re going to have to trust me if we want this to work. Now let go.”

I didn’t let go because of Aasher’s demand. I let go because if I couldn’t fathom a simple jump into his arms, I was never going to get back on the ice. A whoosh of breath left me as I landed in Aasher’s arms, and I gripped his shoulders like they were my lifeline.

His hands fit around my hips like a perfect size of jeans—squeezing me in all the right places—and the only thing I thought of was the stupid kiss.

“Good girl,” he whispered, breathing down into my space.

There was a flick of something in my lower stomach that was completely uncalled for with his praise. My cheeks were pink, and I wasn’t close enough to the ice to blame it on the cool air.

The moment he put me down, I stepped farther away from the opening to the rink, for more reasons than one.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He was smug while he grinned and put his hands in his pockets.

I tightened my scarf around my neck like it was going to hide my vulnerability. “What? Jumping over the ledge?”

He shook his head after adjusting his hat. “No. I was referring to you doing what I asked for once.”

My mind went in a completely different direction than he was implying, and my cheeks fired up again. What the hell is wrong with me? I began analyzing my thoughts over the way I kept trying to escape the reality of what Aasher and I were doing alone in the ice rink.

I was well-versed in recognizing my defense mechanisms.

Avoidance was my best talent.

The door opened to the rink, and I stared at Aasher’s back as he blocked the view. My breathing began to pick up, and I took a step back. He peered over his shoulder at me, showcasing his sturdy jaw and furrowed brow.

“Just opening the door bothers you?”

I made a face before turning away.

“Hey, put the claws away. I’m not poking fun at you. I’m just trying to understand so I can help you.”

“What are you?” I snapped. “A therapist?”

I wasn’t angry at him. I was angry at myself.

His lips twitched, and annoyance was ticking like a bomb in my chest. There was a self-proclaimed part of me that wanted to storm past him to get on the ice—just to prove a point. But I wouldn’t.

“Have you always been this sassy? Or is it the fear making you that way?”

“It’s you!”

There was a slip in my confidence around him. I was nervous, but it wasn’t because I thought I wasn’t safe around him. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was one of the only hockey players that wasn’t doing their best to manipulate me into their bed or if it was because, deep down, I knew he wasn’t a bad guy.

“It’s me?”

Aasher crept forward, but I refused to back away. My heart thumped harder with each step he took, and when he was right in front of me, I held my breath. His hand slowly rose, and when it went around the base of my neck and slipped under my scarf, I finally inhaled our shared oxygen. I hated how shaky my breaths were.

“Fuck, Riley.” Aasher’s thumb brushed against the side of my neck, and chills raced to my flesh. “Your pulse is this fast because of me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, panicking that he was right.

His hand stayed on my neck, and before I knew it, I was staring up into his green eyes, getting lost and forgetting where I was. His palm was a salve. I was calmer, but there was still chaos. It just wasn’t the same chaos that I had felt moments ago. This was different.

The rink lights flicked off. I jumped and stepped closer to him. We were surrounded by the dark with nothing but the glow of the red exit sign in the distance. “Sorry,” I murmured, trying to step away.

He tightened his fingers around my neck just enough to keep me in place. “That’s what I was waiting for. Are you ready?”

“For what?” My lazy tone surprised me.

His white teeth looked brighter in the dark when he smiled. “For the first step in getting you ready for tryouts, baby.”

My pulse fired up, and I refused to admit that it was partly because he called me baby. He rubbed the pad of his thumb against my skin, right over my pulse. “Relax.” His warm breath smelled like mint mixed with ice, and I inhaled before letting out a shaky breath. “Now close your eyes and get ready.”