Page 111

“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe.”

Drew finishes my spaghetti in record time and leans back in his chair. He’s wearing a red tux that’s been the talk of the night. Some say it’s ruby, but I think it’s more maroon than anything else. “I bet she’s hot.”

“Why do you think it’s a girl?”

He gives me a look like I’m an idiot. “Dude, read the posts. They’re basically love letters.”

I shrug. “I don’t know, man. The Ice Queen could easily be a guy crushing on me.”

Drew rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because dudes crushing on you is such uncharted territory now.”

He’s not wrong. Since Elliot and I kissed, I’ve noticed moreguys giving me “the eye.” It’s a strange new world, but one I’m navigating precariously.

“Seriously,” I continue. “Think about it. The blog is called ‘The Ice Queen’s Lair,’ but that’s just a clever name. It doesn’t tell us anything about who they really are. And the posts aren’t even that gendered. They’re more observational than anything.”

Drew smirks. “Observational?Someone’s been hanging out with the librarian too much.”

“All I’m saying is we don’t know for sure.”

Drew shrugs, noncommittal. “Whatever. As long as they keep writing about us, I don’t care who it is.”

I lean back in my chair and glance around the room again. Plenty of people have theories about the Ice Queen’s identity, but no one has cracked the case yet. Some think it’s a journalism student doing it for class credit. Others believe it’s an alumnus who used to play for the team. My theory changes weekly.

“I wonder what Elliot thinks,” I say, more to myself than to Drew.

“Dude, why do you care so much? It’s just a blog.”

It’s true; the blog shouldn’t matter this much to me. But ever since the post where the Ice Queen speculated about my sexuality, I can’t help but feel a bit exposed.

I sigh heavily. “I don’t know. I’m just curious.”

Drew stands and stretches, then pats Jackson on the shoulder. “Come on, man. Let’s go dance.”

Jackson laughs and follows Drew toward the dance floor in the center of the hall as the band plays “Sugar”by Maroon 5. I stay seated, letting my thoughts swirl.

What would Elliot think? We’ve never talked about the Ice Queen, but I have a feeling he’d have some strong opinions. He probably reads the blog; it’s practically required reading for anyone associated with the team, and Elliot likes to stay informed. If he does read it, he’s kept surprisingly quiet about it all.

Maybe he’s waiting for me to bring it up. Or maybe hedoesn’t care. Knowing Elliot, he’d likely scoff at the drama and speculation and at how seriously some of us take it.

But then again, he might be worried about what the blog will say regarding me and him. Especially now that the Ice Queen mentioned his name.

I pull out my phone again and check for messages.Fiddlesticks.Still nothing from Elliot.

My mind goes back to the reasoning I laid out for Drew—could the Ice Queen really be a guy? It’s not like I’d mind either way, but knowing who’s behind the words would make everything simpler.

The way they write about me—about my butt, my hands, even that kiss with Elliot—it’s all very flattering but also uncomfortably intimate. Like they know me better than I know myself.

Oliver comes over and takes Drew’s vacant seat. His lime green tux stands out like a highlighter in a stack of term papers. He’s the only one who decided to forgo dress socks, going barefoot in his loafers instead. It’s such an Oliver move.

I think back to earlier this evening before Elliot left for work. He watched with an intense focus as I slipped on my dress socks, his eyes tracking every movement of my hands and feet. At the time, I thought he was just zoning out, but now I wonder—does Elliot have a foot fetish, too? The thought makes me grin like an idiot.

“You look like you just won the lottery,” Oliver chuckles. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” I say, still smiling. “Just thinking about how ridiculous your suit is.”

He laughs. “You know you love it.” He leans in closer and lowers his voice. “So, how are you holding up?”

“Fine,” I say, maybe a bit too quickly.