ICEBREAKER RIVALS

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Chapter 3 I HAVE LIKED YOU SINCE WE WERE FOURTEEN

JAKE

Isaac dropped onto his bed, his eyes fixed on me. “So, White. What’s your problem with me?”

I turned to face him, the adrenaline from the rink still buzzing in my veins. “What are you talking about?”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been riding me since day one. We almost just got kicked out of the elite camp because you can't keep your eyes off me on the ice. What’s the deal?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, though my heart was hammering. “I just don’t like your style, Lim.”

Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “My style? You mean the way I play hockey?”

I nodded, feeling a spark of anger flare up. “Yeah. You’re always so perfect, so controlled. You're the captain of the Blue Angels and I'm the captain of the Red Hawks. But whenever you're on the ice, it’s like you’re trying to suffocate everyone else. Like you're trying to prove you're the only one who matters.”

“You think I’m trying to suffocate you?” Isaac stood up, closing the distance between our beds until his face was inches from mine. The air between us was electric, our chests heaving with exertion. “You’re the one who’s always so angry, so bitter, White. Always looking for a fight.”

“Because you’re always one step ahead!” the words spilled out of me, raw and frustrated. “You act like you hate me, like I’m just some obstacle you need to skate over.”

Isaac’s expression completely shifted. The hard, competitive glare in his eyes melted into something terrifyingly intense. His gaze dropped to my lips for a split second before locking back onto my eyes. A slow, infuriatingly confident smirk played on his lips.

"Is that really what you think this is?" Isaac asked. "White, use that big hockey brain of yours. I don't hate you. I never have."

I blinked, my brain stalling. "What?"

"With the way you pay attention to me, I thought you'd have figured it out by now," he blurted, stepping even closer. "I don't want to fight you on the ice, Jake. I want you. I have since that summer camp when we were fourteen. All this teasing, all this riding you? I'm chasing you. I have every intention of making you fall for me, and you're out here thinking it's a hockey rivalry."

A cold shockwave hit my chest, followed instantly by a raging wave of heat. I took a violent step back, shaking my head as my hands curled into tight fists.

"Are you insane?" I yelled. "What the hell are you playing at, Lim? Is this your sick idea of a joke? Because I don't have the time or the energy to play mind games with you right now!"

His expression stayed locked, entirely unbothered by my outburst. "It's not a joke, White."

"Like hell it isn't!" I snapped, my chest heaving as six years of bitter history flashed through my mind. Every shoulder check, every slashed stick, every screamed insult on the ice. "We have loathed each other since we were fourteen years old! You have spent over half a decade trying to outskate me, outscore me, and ruin my life on the ice, and now you want me to believe it was a crush? What, did Coach Miller's threat rattle you so bad you're trying to psych me out before tomorrow's skate? Please, Isaac, I don't have the whole day for whatever garbage psychological warfare you're pulling!"

"Jake."

Hearing him use my actual name instead of my last name, left a hot bubbling sensation in the pit of my stomach.

"I'm not trying to psych you out," Isaac muttered softly. "If I wanted to win a mind game, I'd choose something a lot less humiliating than admitting I've been pathetic for you since we were kids. Think about it. Or don't. But I'm done hiding behind a jersey."

My mouth opened, but my brain stalled entirely. The witty, defensive comeback I had ready died a pathetic, mangled death.

“Whatever,” I choked out, pivoting so fast I nearly tripped over my own duffel bag.

I scrambled toward my side of the room, my heart hammering a chaotic, panicked rhythm against my ribs. “I’m not doing this. The officials already have us on a watchlist, and I’m not adding ‘insanity’ to my record just because you’ve clearly lost your damn mind.”

I kept my back to him, staring intensely at a pile of crumpled clothes. My hands were literally shaking.

“Just... stay on your side of the room,” I muttered, my voice breaking just enough to make me want to crawl under the floorboards.

Behind me, I heard that low, amused chuckle.

“Sure thing, White,” Isaac countered, sounding entirely way too satisfied with himself. “Whatever helps you sleep.”

I stayed hunched over my phone, staring at the same social media posts for twenty minutes, just waiting for the sound of Isaac finally climbing into bed so I could safely breathe again.

When I finally heard the rustle of sheets and the click of the bedside lamp, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I turned around to grab my own pillow, ready to just black out and pretend this insane day never happened.

But Isaac wasn't under the covers. He was stretched out on top of them, hands behind his head, looking way too comfortable. And he was completely shirtless. The dim glow from the hallway filtered through the gap in the curtains, hitting the sharp lines of his shoulders and the annoying, perfect definition of his chest.

“What are you doing?” I barked, intrusive thoughts running free.

“Sleeping, White. It’s what people do at night. Join in whenever you’re ready.”

“You can’t—” I gestured wildly at him, then realized I was staring and whipped my eyes towards the ceiling instead. “Put a shirt on, Lim. We’re teammates. Roommates. Not... whatever this is. You can't just drop a bomb like that and then act like a locker room pin-up model!”

“I always sleep like this,” he murmured, his voice sounding scratchy and heavy with sleep. He rolled onto his side to face me, his skin glowing in the dark, his eyes finally cracking open to lock onto mine. “If it’s distracting you, that sounds like a ‘you’ problem. Unless you’re admitting my strategy is already working?”

I gritted my teeth so hard .“I’m not looking! I’m disgusted! Keep it under the covers.”

“Sure,” he chuckled softly, closing his eyes again. “Whatever helps you sleep, Jake.”

Stupid, arrogant, half-naked, talented... I squeezed my eyes shut, but his chaotic confession—and the image of him in the dark—was burned into the back of my eyelids.

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