Page 35 of In the Net (Sin Bin Stories #5)

HARPER

I n the middle of the week after I shared a bed with Sebastian, he falls into step next to me as I’m walking home from class.

How is he so good at sneaking up on me like that?

“So, I’ve been looking through your Instagram page,” he says.

I lift an eyebrow at him. “That’s concerning.”

He grins that way he always grins when I throw a verbal jab at him these days. “You don’t have any pictures of me.”

Something tugs in my chest. “Insecure, much?” I tease.

“If we’re a happy couple, shouldn’t we have pictures with each other on our social media?”

Hm. He has a point.

“See, you know I have a point,” Sebastian says.

That’s creepy. Are we getting to know each other so well that we can sense what the other is thinking? Next thing you know, we’ll be finishing each other’s sentences.

My stomach dips at the thought.

“So, what, then? You want us to pose for a cute photo for me to post on my page?” I ask.

Sebastian shakes his head, but that grin on his face notches higher. “I have a much better idea. You’ll post pictures of the very romantic outing I’m about to take you on.”

For some reason, I don’t feel inclined to protest. “Where are you dragging me to?”

“Today, you’re going to learn how to ice skate.”

I give him an ambivalent look. “Ice skate?”

“Of course. There’s no way I’d be dating a girl for this long without taking her out on the ice. It would look suspicious if you didn’t learn.”

A feeling of excitement swells in my chest. It’s a sensation I’m growing too used to when it comes to spending extra time with my fake boyfriend.

With a pair of ice skates tied to my feet for the first time, I shuffle toward the entrance to the ice rink. We’re alone. I guess Sebastian has access to the ice whenever he wants.

Sebastian stands on the ice, holding his hand out for me to grab onto. I cut a proud look in his direction.

“I’m sure I can step onto the ice by myself without falling flat on my butt,” I say, a little defensive.

Sebastian’s eyes gleam archly. “Don’t be too sure. It’s a pretty butt, and it would be a shame if something happened to it because you were being stubborn.”

Sebastian thinks my butt is pretty? Wings flap in my stomach before I come to my senses and remind myself not to read too much into his sophomoric quips.

“I’ll be fine,” I insist, setting one skate on the ice and testing how it feels.

“Just grab onto me,” he urges.

Something about his tone makes me want to stick to my guns. “I can get the hang of it myself just fine,” I announce, lifting my chin.

Sebastian looks argumentative, but he shakes it off, shrugging and shaking his head with a laugh. “Fine, suit yourself. Learn the hard way.”

My stomach feels heavy as I contemplate setting my other foot on the ice. I wish arguing with Sebastian weren’t so addictive. I probably could’ve used his help.

But just as that thought occurs to me, my pride rises to banish it. People learn to skate all the time without clinging to hockey players.

“I can get the hang of it just fine,” I say out loud, more to stiffen my own confidence than to Sebastian.

He slides a little bit back from me, giving me room to step onto the ice. “If you say so.” His voice sounds like he’s champing at the bit to say, told you so .

My legs are wobbly when I step fully onto the ice. But I’m still upright.

“See,” I say. “This isn’t so hard.” I push forward, gliding across the slick surface. “In fact, I bet?—”

My words choke in my throat as my skates glide a way I don’t anticipate. I lose my equilibrium. My arms flail, my legs feel like noodles, and I’m lucky that I’m still close enough to the barricade that wraps around the rink to grab onto it for dear life.

The first thing I say when I’ve caught my breath is, “Shut up, Sebastian.”

His chuckles vibrate the cold air as I sense him skate up behind me.

“My headstrong girl,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s one of my favorite traits of yours, but you gotta accept help sometimes, you know?”

The back of my neck heats despite the chill clinging to me. Sebastian called me his girl even though no one else is around to hear.

And he has favorite traits of mine? What are the other ones?

Luckily, I don’t have time to dwell on those thoughts. He stands in front of me, holding out his arms. “Give me your hands already,” he says, exasperation mixed with his encouragement.

I slide my hands into his. Sparks dance on me as he folds his large palms over them, grabbing hold and urging me away from the barricade and toward the center of the ice.

It’s almost too intense, being face-to-face with him like this. My cheeks burn against the cold sting of the air. He skates backward with perfect poise, pulling me with him, letting me find my legs on the ice.

I lift my eyes from where they’re pointed at my feet, daring to peek at his face. His hair is getting longer. Scruffier. It must have been a while since he’s had it cut. Tangly strands fall over the temples of his glasses. Why is that so hot?

Sebastian looks down at my feet, nodding in approval as he guides me through a couple turns. “You’re doing well.”

Muscles tug between my legs as I imagine him telling me that I’m doing well in a very different context.

I felt how big he is, after all. I’d probably need all the encouragement I can get to fit …

I clamp down on that thought.

Eventually, I feel like I’m getting the hang of it. My body is learning how to move on this slippery surface while staying upright.

“Let me try on my own,” I tell Sebastian.

Approval lights up his blue eyes. He nods. “Don’t overdo it,” he warns.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

Sebastian lets go of my hands, and I suddenly feel colder. A sense of loss weighs in my chest as he puts more distance between us so I have room to skate unaided. Talk about pathetic.

I’m doing pretty well skating on my own, but that’s not what’s occupying my mind. Memories of how he held me close in bed this weekend flood back to me.

I’d love to deny it, but I can’t: I want to feel his arms around me again.

The stupidest thought pops up in my head. I’ll pretend to fall, and he’ll rush over and catch me.

My better judgment, not to mention my sense of self-respect, lets me know how bad an idea that is.

But the area of my brain that controls cravings pulses with the desire to feel Sebastian’s strong arms wrapped around me, like they were in his bed just days ago.

I kick my right leg out and whirl my arms dramatically, telegraphing that I’m about to fall. After giving Sebastian plenty of notice that he needs to close the distance between us and grab me, I let my weight drop …

And I hit the ice.

He didn’t even catch me!

“Oh, shit,” I hear Sebastian exclaim, like he was paying attention to something else and only now noticed that I’m sprawled out on the ice.

My flat expression cracks as peals of laughter burst from me. I was so pathetically craving physical touch with a guy I’m supposed to not even like that I pulled some ridiculous damsel-in-distress act, and all I got out of it was a mildly painful fall.

I can’t not find it hilarious.

And the fact that I’m not supposed to like Sebastian? Please. Who am I kidding anymore? He’s funny, smart, we have just about everything in common, and it’s blatantly obvious how much he’s grown as a person since freshman year.

I like spending time with him. I like him.

Now that’s funny.

So funny that I can’t stop laughing. I’m cracking up, belly laughing even though the harsh chill of the ice singes me through my clothes.

Sebastian must think I’m nuts.

He looks down at me with curiosity. “Uh, you okay?”

I’m still laughing. “You were supposed to catch me!”

A bemused grin lifts on him. “Sorry.”

His answer only makes me laugh more.

“Harper, did you hit your head or something?”

“No,” I answer, shaking my head, my cheeks aching from laughing so much.

I raise my arms for him to grab me and lift me up, but when he does, I tug hard with all my weight, pulling him down to the ice with me.

“Harper, what the fuck!” Sebastian exclaims, but now he’s laughing, too.

“That’s what you get,” I tell him.

“Get for what? Letting you fall?”

We’re both on the ice, bodies heaped together, smiling and laughing as we have this absurd conversation.

“Exactly,” I say. “What kind of boyfriend lets his girlfriend fall when he’s teaching her how to skate!”

He pushes up from the ice, hauling me with him. Now I’m upright on my skates, Sebastian’s grip curled around my arms, only a sliver of distance between us.

Our eyes lock. Heat rushes through me. I’m still high on endorphins from all the laughing.

I feel like I want to kiss my fake boyfriend.

So, I do.