Deals On Ice

Chapter 3

ARIA'S POV

The morning sun felt too bright, like it was personally offended by the decisions I’d made.

My head throbbed in a slow, steady pulse that matched every step I took across campus. The black lingerie from last night was stuffed into the bottom of my bag. I was back in yesterday’s jeans and a hoodie I’d grabbed from the stranger’s floor without thinking.

Everything smelled faintly like him and the reminder made my stomach twist in a way that wasn’t entirely regret.

I didn’t go home, I went straight to Brielle’s.

Her apartment door was unlocked the way it always was when she expected me. I pushed inside and toed off my shoes, the motion making my thighs ache in a deep, unfamiliar way.

Brielle was in the kitchen in an oversized T-shirt and sleep shorts, pouring coffee. She took one look at me and froze mid-pour.

“Whoa.” Her eyebrows climbed. “Why are you walking like that?”

I winced and kept moving toward the couch. “Don’t.”

She set the pot down and followed, eyes narrowing with pure mischief. “Did your boyfriend’s d**k finally live up to the hype? Because you’re moving like someone who got rearranged.”

Heat flooded my face. I dropped onto the cushions and immediately regretted it when my body protested. “I just lost my virginity, Brielle. Give me a break.”

Her mouth fell open. For half a second she looked genuinely surprised. Then a slow, knowing grin spread across her face.

“Holy s**t. Blake finally sealed the deal?” She flopped down beside me, still grinning. “That man has zero business being that pretty and this skilled. You’re welcome for the tips, by the way. I expect details. Was he gentle? Did he talk dirty? How many—”

“It wasn’t him.” The words came out flat. Brielle blinked. Eyebrows raising.

“What?”

“It wasn’t Blake.” I stared at the coffee table because looking at her felt impossible. “He wasn’t the one who… f****d me.”

Silence filled the room for a moment, then a sharp, disbelieving laugh carried across.

“A threesome? Damn, Aria, I knew you were pent up but—”

“No.” I finally met her eyes. “I slept with a stranger.”

Brielle’s smile vanished. She sat up straighter, the teasing draining out of her voice. “How? When? You were supposed to be at Blake’s last night.”

My head throbbed harder. The memories, all of it crashed together until I felt dizzy. “My head is spinning. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then nodded once. “Okay. Okay. Couch or bed?”

“Bed.”

I pushed myself up and walked down the short hall to her guest room. The sheets still smelled like her.

I collapsed face-first onto the mattress, shoes still on, hoodie still zipped. The pillow was cool against my cheek. My skull felt like someone was tapping it from the inside with a tiny hammer.

Brielle hovered in the doorway for a second, then quietly pulled the door halfway shut. “I’ll bring water and Advil. And we’re talking about this later. You don’t get to drop ‘I f****d a stranger’ and then pass out.”

I made a vague sound of agreement and closed my eyes.

Sleep didn’t come. Instead the night replayed itself in fragments that were far too vivid for a hangover. The stranger’s mouth on my neck, the way he’d looked at me when he first pushed inside—focused, almost reverent, like he was cataloguing every reaction.

The stretch, the heat. The way he’d flipped me onto my stomach and driven in deep while his fingers worked between my legs until I came so hard my vision went white. The low, rough sound he’d made when he finished inside me. The way his hand had stayed on my hip afterward, thumb stroking lazily like he wasn’t quite ready to break contact.

I smiled into the pillow despite myself.

He had been… good, better than good. The kind of good that made the humiliation from earlier in the night feel distant, almost unreal. For a few hours I hadn’t been the girl who’d been a dare. I’d just been a body that wanted and was wanted back.

Now that the fog was lifting, the regret settled in.

I hadn’t asked his name, I hadn’t given him mine or my number. I’d slipped out while he was still asleep, heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with shame, and now there was no way to find him again.

Southridge was big. He could have been anyone—another student, a visitor, a local who only came to that bar once. The chance of running into him felt microscopic.

I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. My body still hummed in places that had never hummed before. Every shift of my legs reminded me exactly how thoroughly I’d been f****d. The ache was almost comforting. Proof that I’d taken something for myself after everything Blake had stripped away.

Brielle’s footsteps returned. She set a glass of water and two pills on the nightstand without comment, then left again. I swallowed them dry and forced myself to sit up. The room tilted once, then settled.

I needed air.

I found Brielle in the living room scrolling on her phone. She looked up immediately.

“I’m going out for a while,” I said, voice still rough. “I’ll be back by noon.”

She studied me. “You sure you’re okay to walk anywhere?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Text me if you need anything.”

I nodded and headed for the door. The hallway smelled like someone else’s breakfast.

Outside, the late-morning sun made my eyes water. I made it to the next four streets before I realized my purse wasn’t on my shoulder.

The little black one that held my keys, my student ID, the emergency twenty I always kept folded in the side pocket. I’d set it on Brielle’s kitchen counter when I first walked in and never picked it up again.

I turned around.

Thirty minutes, maybe less. The walk back felt longer because every step still reminded me of the night before.

I climbed the stairs to her floor and reached for the doorknob.

That was when I heard it.

A low female moan that rose and broke, followed by the unmistakable creak of a mattress.

I froze with my hand on the knob.

“Brielle…you slut.” I muttered and chuckled.

Another moan came louder this time, edged with something almost desperate, then a deeper voice murmured something I couldn’t quite catch.

My stomach dropped, but the hangover made everything feel slightly unreal, so the first thought that surfaced was stupid and automatic.

I pushed the door open just enough to lean in and call out, voice pitched with forced cheer, “Damn, Brielle, at least wait until I leave the building next time—”

The rest of the sentence died.

“f**k—right there—” The familiar voice moaned.

Blake.

I shoved the door the rest of the way open.

The living room was empty, the sounds were coming from the short hallway that led to Brielle’s bedroom. The door was cracked. Through the gap I could see the edge of her bed, the tangle of sheets, a bare male back moving.

Brielle’s legs were wrapped around his waist. Her head was tipped back against the pillows, eyes half-closed, mouth open on another moan. One of Blake’s hands gripped her thigh hard enough to leave marks. The other was braced beside her head.

They didn’t notice me at first.

Then Brielle’s eyes opened and locked on mine.

The color drained from her face so fast it looked painful.

Blake followed her gaze, his hips stuttered to a stop. For a second he just stared, still buried inside my best friend, sweat shining at his temple, the same calm cruelty from last night already starting to settle over his features like a mask he’d practiced.

No one spoke.

The only sound left in the apartment was the faint, wet shift of bodies separating and the ragged edge of Brielle’s breathing.

I stood in the doorway with my empty hands and the ghost of last night’s stranger still aching between my legs, and understood that the dare had never been the worst part.

This was.