Page 53 of Ice-Cold Obsession

Coach sighs and pulls out his phone. “All right. Tell him to rest up and get better. We need him for the game this weekend.”

“I will.”

I turn to head toward my usual spot near the ice, but Zyair skates over to the boards and calls out to me. “Hey, Scarlett! Where’s Gabriel?”

“Sick, but he’ll be fine.”

His eyebrows pull together, and he tilts his head slightly. “He’s never sick.”

“Well, heisnow.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah. Just needs rest.”

Zyair nods slowly and skates back toward the center of the rink. I can feel his eyes on me as I set up my camera, and I wonder if he suspects something. But there’s nothing I can do about that now. I just have to keep acting normal and pretending everything is fine, even though it isn’t.

I spend the next hour taking photos of the practice, trying to focus on the players and the drills. But my mind keeps drifting back to Gabriel. Is he okay? Did anyone show up at my dorm? Did the plan work? What if it didn’t? What if they’re already coming for us both?

I snap a photo of Taj taking a shot. The shutter clicks, but I barely register it. My hands move on autopilot, adjusting the settings, changing the angles, and capturing the moments I’m not really seeing. All I can think about is Gabriel alone in my dorm.

When the practice finally ends, I pack up my equipment and head to my afternoon lecture. I can’t just disappear. I need to keep my usual routine. The more I act like nothing’s wrong, the less suspicious I’ll seem. But sitting in class feels impossible, because every second lasts forever.

The professor drones on about something, and I try to take notes, but my mind is elsewhere. Every time my phone buzzes, I expect to see a message indicating that something went wrong. My pen hovers over my notebook, but I can’t make myself write.

After class, I check my phone. No messages. That’s good, right? Or maybe something happened and they already got him. Maybe—

No. I need to stop thinking like that.

I head to the library, because I need to return a book I borrowed last week. Besides, I actuallydoneed another book for a project that’s due next week. If I can just keep doing normal things, maybe everything will be okay. Maybe the plan will work, and we’ll have time to figure out what to do next.

The library seems more quiet than usual. A few students sit at the tables with their laptops open and wearing headphones. The librarian at the front desk barely glances at me as I walk in.

I find the returns bin and drop the book inside. Then I head toward the back section to grab another one that I need. I find the book quickly and check it out, then push through the back exit that leads to the side of the building.

The path behind the library is lined with trees and shrubs. Students don’t usually come this way unless they’re cutting through to the parking lot. I adjust my camera bag on my shoulder and start moving. My footsteps sound too loud on the pavement.

Suddenly, I hear someone’s footsteps behind me.

I glance over my shoulder. A man in a dark jacket is following a few feet behind me. His hands are behind his back, his head down.

My pulse quickens, and I tell myself I’m being paranoid, but I pick up my pace.

The footsteps speed up too.

My heart starts to race. I grip the strap of my camera bag tighter. Maybe I should run or scream. But what if I’m wrong? What if it’s just a professor and I end up looking like an idiot?

But then I see another man in front of me, blocking my path. I stop, my breath catching in my throat.

“Excuse me,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

But the man doesn’t move.

I turn to go back the way I came, but the first man is right behind me now. Too close.

“What do you want?” I ask.

They don’t say anything.