Deals On Ice

Chapter 4

ARIA'S POV

“What the fuck.” The words tore out of me before I could stop them. My voice cracked on the last syllable in the sudden silence of Brielle’s bedroom.

Brielle scrambled upright, yanking the sheet up over her chest like it could erase what I’d already seen. Her eyes were wide, glassy, already filling. “Aria—oh my God—Aria, please—”

Blake didn’t scramble. He pulled out of her slowly, then reached for his boxers on the floor like this was just another inconvenience. When he straightened, he looked at me the same way he had last night in front of his friends, calm, almost bored, already deciding how much of this he was going to bother explaining.

“You said she wasn't going to be back soon,” he said.

Brielle made a broken sound. “Blake, shut up—”

“Let her go,” he cut in, still watching me. “She’s already seen everything. Dragging it out just makes it messier.”

I couldn’t move. My feet felt glued to the floorboards. The ache between my legs from the stranger last night suddenly felt like a different kind of bruise.

Brielle’s voice rose, frantic. “I was going to tell you, I swear I was. Every single day I wanted to tell you. It just—it got so complicated and I didn’t know how and then you were so happy with him and I—”

“Complicated?” My laugh came out wrong, high and sharp. “You’ve been listening to me talk about him for months. You’ve been giving me advice. You’ve been sitting on my bed while I talked about giving him my virginity and the whole time you were f*****g him?”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. She reached toward me like she thought she could still touch me. “Aria, please, I love you. You’re my best friend. I never wanted to hurt you like this—”

Blake made an impatient sound. “Jesus, Brielle. Stop. You’re making it worse.” He stepped into his jeans, zipped them, then looked at me again. “We were always going to end up here. You were the dare. She was the real thing. It was never going to stay secret forever.”

The words landed like a second slap. Last night’s humiliation and this morning’s betrayal fused into something that made my vision blur. I felt sick and small like every careful piece of trust I’d handed them had been used as entertainment.

Brielle was still talking, voice breaking on every other word. “I hated myself. I hated every time you texted me after a date with him. I wanted to tell you so many times but I was terrified of losing you and then it just kept going and I—”

“Stop.” My own voice sounded distant. “Just stop.”

I turned around. My purse was still on the kitchen counter where I’d left it. I grabbed it with hands that shook so hard the zipper rattled.

Behind me Brielle called my name, her voice climbing into something close to a sob.

I walked out of the apartment, down the stairs, and into the morning light that felt too clean for what had just happened.

I don’t remember the walk to my own place. I remember unlocking the door, dropping my bag, and sitting on my bed with my shoes still on.

The room was quiet in a way that made the silence feel loud. Every time I closed my eyes I saw them—Brielle’s legs around his waist, Blake’s hand on her thigh, the exact second both of their faces changed when they realized I was standing there.

I tried to sleep. My body was exhausted, sore from the night before, heavy with the kind of tired that should have dragged me under.

Instead I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling while my heart ached in a slow, relentless pulse. It wasn’t the sharp, dramatic kind of heartbreak. It was the deep kind, the kind that sits behind your ribs and makes every breath feel like work.

I kept replaying the way Brielle had looked at me, the way her voice had cracked when she said she always wanted to tell me.

At some point the light outside shifted from morning to afternoon. I didn’t eat, I didn’t answer the texts that started lighting up my phone—Brielle’s name appearing over and over until I turned the screen face-down. When night finally came I still hadn’t slept. I just lay there and let the ache settle into something colder and more permanent.

The next day I forced myself to class because staying in bed felt like letting them win. I sat in the back, took notes I wouldn’t remember, and left the second the professor dismissed us.

The campus pathways were busy with the usual post-class rush. I kept my head down and aimed for the side path that would take me past the least number of people.

I almost made it.

Near the low brick wall by the student center I saw them.

Blake had Brielle backed against the wall, one hand on her waist, the other cupping her face while he kissed her like they had every right to be out in the open. She was kissing him back. Students walked past them without a second glance.

The sight of them—public, shameless, already comfortable in the version of the story where I no longer existed—made something in my chest crack open all over again.

I lowered my gaze and tried to walk past.

Blake’s foot shot out.

I didn’t see it coming. My shoe caught on his ankle and the world tilted. I hit the pavement hard, palms stinging, knee scraping through my jeans, bag spilling sideways. A few people nearby made the soft, awkward sounds of strangers witnessing something they didn’t want to get involved in.

Blake looked down at me like I was an inconvenience he’d accidentally stepped on.

“Careful,” he said, voice mild. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself more than you already have.”

Brielle’s face had gone pale again. “Blake—”

He ignored her. His eyes stayed on me, cold and almost curious. “You look rough, Aria. Didn’t sleep? Guilt’ll do that. Or maybe it’s just the realization that you were never actually in the relationship you thought you were.”

I pushed myself up, palms burning. My knee throbbed. A small crowd had started to form—not big, just enough people slowing down to watch.

My throat felt tight. I could feel the old humiliation from the dare rising up to meet this new one, and for a second I thought I might actually cry in front of all of them.

Instead something reckless and sharp rose in its place.

I lifted my chin.

“I’m dating someone else,” I said, loud enough for the people closest to hear. “So you can stop acting like you still matter.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose, a small, disbelieving smile tugged at his mouth. “Is that right? Who?”

“Knox Callahan.” The name left my mouth before I could stop it—the only name on campus big enough to shut him up, the one I’d heard a hundred times in passing and never actually saw.

A few people nearby actually stopped walking. Someone whispered. Blake’s smile faltered for half a second, then came back sharper.

“The hockey captain?” He laughed, short and mean. “You’re dating the hockey captain. Sure, Aria. Whatever helps you sleep at night after finding out your best friend was better at keeping me than you were.”

I opened my mouth to double down, to say something else, anything else—

A warm hand settled under my chin.

The touch was firm, almost casual, tipping my face upward like the person attached to it had every right.

I froze. The hand was large, slightly calloused, and completely unfamiliar in the daylight.

A low male voice spoke above me, directed at Blake. “Do you have business with my girlfriend?”

Blake’s expression changed so fast it was almost funny. The smugness drained and his eyes flicked up, then widened. “No,” he said quickly. “No, Captain. I was just… leaving.”

The hand under my chin didn’t move. I turned my head the rest of the way and looked up.

The same mouth that had been on my neck less than two days ago. The same eyes that had watched me come apart underneath him in a dim apartment I still didn’t know the address of.

Knox Callahan—Southridge’s hockey captain, the stranger from the bar, the man whose name I’d never asked for—looked down at me like we’d planned this exact moment.