Deals On Ice

Chapter 2

ARIA'S POV

The door was half-open so I pushed it the rest of the way and stepped inside.

The laughter cut off like someone had yanked a cord. Three heads snapped toward me. Blake’s roommate—Jared, the one who always called me “Blake’s quiet girl”—froze with a beer bottle halfway to his mouth.

The other guy, whose name I never bothered learning, stared with his mouth slightly open.

And Blake…

Blake looked at me the way people look at a car accident they didn’t mean to cause.

For one second, something flickered across his face—panic, maybe, then it vanished. His expression smoothed into something colder, almost bored, like he was already deciding how to play this.

“Aria.” He said my name the same way he always did, soft and familiar, but it landed wrong. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard everything.” My voice came out steadier than I felt.

Jared lowered the bottle and the other guy shifted on the couch.

Blake stood and set his phone on the coffee table with care, like this was just another ordinary night and I was the one interrupting.

“You heard what, exactly?”

I stepped farther into the room. The lingerie under my sweater itched against my skin.

Everything about me suddenly felt staged, the careful outfit, the perfume I’d put on, the way I’d practiced breathing so I wouldn’t look nervous when I arrived. All of it felt like a costume for a joke I hadn’t known I was in.

“The dare,” I said. “Our relationship was a f*****g dare.”

Jared scoffed and the sound filled the room.

Blake’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“But I did.”

He exhaled through his nose, almost amused. “Okay, so you heard. Congrats. You’re in on the joke now.”

The words hit harder than if he’d yelled. I felt them land in my chest and stay there, heavy and cold.

“It’s not a joke to me.” I muttered.

“It was always a joke, Aria.” He said it gently, the way you explain something obvious to a child. “A dare between friends. You were… convenient, nice and easy to talk to and yeah, you made it really easy to keep going. But it was never serious. Not for me.”

Jared looked like he wanted the floor to open and the other guy stared at the wall.

Blake kept going, voice calm, almost kind. “You kept talking about ‘us’ like we were building something and I let you. It was part of the bit, but come on. You had to know it wasn’t real. We barely posted anything, we barely told anyone.”

My eyes burned. I refused to blink. “You told me you loved me.”

He tilted his head. “Did I? Or did I say things that sounded close enough?”

I couldn’t breathe right, the room suddenly felt

too small.

Blake’s friend finally spoke, voice low. “Dude. Maybe not—”

“No.” Blake held up a hand without looking away from me. “She walked in, she gets the truth.” His eyes stayed on mine, steady and empty of the softness I was used to. “I have someone else. So if you came here thinking tonight was special…” He shrugged. “It wasn’t. Not for me.”

The silence that followed was worse than the words.

I turned and walked out.

The door clicked shut behind me with a soft click.

I didn’t remember the walk across campus. One minute the courtyard was behind me, the next I was standing under the buzzing light of a bar two blocks off the main drag, the kind of place students went when they wanted to disappear for a few hours.

Music thumped through the walls, louder than I needed at the moment but I pushed inside anyway.

I found an empty stool at the far end of the bar and ordered whatever was cheapest. The first sip burned but the second went down easier.

I stared at the condensation sliding down the glass and tried to keep my face still.

It didn’t work for long.

Tears came steadily, the kind that made my vision blur without the drama of sobbing. I wiped them with the side of my hand and kept my shoulders locked.

No one looked twice, college bars were full of people crying for reasons no one asked about.

I finished the drink and ordered another. The humiliation still sat in my chest like a stone, but the alcohol made it heavier instead of sharper. I kept replaying Blake’s voice in my head over and over again.

A shadow stopped beside me. “You look like you could use a better drink than whatever that is.”

I turned my head. The guy was tall, dark hair falling a little into his eyes, jaw sharp enough to look unfair under the low bar lights.

He wasn’t smiling exactly, more like assessing, curious without being pushy.

“I’m fine,” I said and my voice came out rough.

“You’re crying into…well…vodka. That’s the opposite of fine.” He nodded at the empty stool next to me. “Mind if I sit? Or I can leave you alone. Your call.”

I should have told him to go. Instead I shrugged, and he sat. He ordered whiskey then another of whatever I was drinking without asking. When it arrived he slid it toward me.

“I’m not trying to get you drunk,” he said. “Just looks like you need more alcohol.”

A short, broken laugh escaped me. “Too late for that.”

He didn’t ask what happened. We just sat in silence for a while, the music filling the space between us. Eventually he spoke again, voice low enough that I had to lean in a little. “Bad night?”

“The worst.”

“Want to talk about it?” He asked.

“No.”

“Okay.” He took a sip of his drink. “Want to not talk about it and still not be alone for a while?”

I looked at him properly then, broad shoulders under a simple black shirt and hands that looked like they knew how to hold things without breaking them.

He felt real in a way that made the rest of the night feel like a fever dream. “Yeah,” I said. “I think I do.”

We talked about nothing important, classes we hated, professors who assigned too much reading. The way campus always smelled like cut grass after it rained.

He had a low laugh that came easily, and every time it did something in my chest loosened a fraction.

“I don’t usually do this,” I said eventually, the words sliding out before I could stop them.

“Do what?” He asked softly.

“Talk to strangers.” I answered.

He studied me for a second. “Then why tonight?”

Because the boy I thought loved me had just told a room full of people I was a dare.

“Because I don’t want to go home yet.” I said instead.

He finished his drink, set the glass down, and looked at me like he was giving me every chance to change my mind.

“There’s a place near here,” he said quietly. “It's quiet, no one will bother us. We can keep not talking if you want. Or we can leave it here. Your call.”

“I think we should keep not talking,” I said and he laughed.

We left together, his hand brushed the small of my back once as we crossed the street, steadying me when I stumbled on the curb, then fell away again like he was careful not to assume.

The walk was short, we eventually got to the building and it was nicer than I expected.

The door shut behind us with a soft click. The apartment was dim, city light leaking through half-drawn blinds.

For a second we just stood there.

Then his hands found my waist, thumbs pressing lightly through the cream sweater. “You sure?”

I answered by fisting the front of his shirt and pulling him down.

His mouth crashed against mine. One of his hands slid up my back and the other stayed locked on my hip, grounding me. I made a small sound against his lips and felt him smile into the kiss.

We moved without talking, sweater over my head.

His shirt yanked free and dropped.

My jeans shoved down my thighs, the black lace panties still on. He looked at them for a long second, eyes dark, then hooked two fingers in the waistband and dragged them down slowly, like he was unwrapping something he’d been thinking about since the bar.

When I was bare he lifted me onto the bed and stepped between my knees. I reached for his belt. The sound of the buckle, the zipper, the way his breath left him when my hand wrapped his c**k made my stomach flip.

He pushed me gently onto my back and followed, mouth trailing down my throat, between my breasts, lower.

When his tongue slid between my legs I arched hard, a broken sound leaving me. He licked and sucked and pressed two fingers inside me until I was wet enough that the stretch of his d**k wouldn’t hurt, until my thighs were shaking and I was gripping the sheets like they could keep me from falling apart.

“Please,” I whispered.

He rose over me, braced on one forearm, the other hand guiding his d**k to my entrance. The blunt head pressed against me, hot and insistent. He watched my face as he pushed in, giving me time to feel every inch. The stretch burned in the best way. I dug my nails into his shoulders and breathed through it until he was buried all the way, hips flush to mine.

He stayed still for a second, forehead against mine, both of us breathing hard.

Then he started to move, deep, controlled thrusts that dragged against every sensitive place inside me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and met him, the sound of our bodies filling the quiet room. His mouth found my neck, then my ear.

“f**k, you feel—” He cut himself off with a groan when I clenched around him.

He came soon afterwards and I fell asleep on his chest.

Morning came in what felt like two hours later. I sat up slowly, the sheet slipping, and looked at the stranger asleep on his stomach beside me. I dressed quietly and left without waking him.