Page 41 of Like a Power Play (Greenrock University: Icebound #1)

Twenty One

Darcy

E verything is red.

I flick my eyes to the left, then to the right, eyelids still squeezed shut.

Yup. Still red.

Wait—shit. Why is it red?

My eyes snap open, a harsh beam of golden sunlight pouring through the cabin windows. I blink rapidly, stars sparking behind my eyelids. Normally, I’d have my sleep mask on, but—I glance around, spotting it on the floor.

Right.

My legs wriggle, an attempt to peel myself out of bed, but something's weighing me down. I look over. Peyton is naked, pressed against the wall, half of her sprawled across me, the other half twisted into a position that looks like scoliosis. Even as she’s relaxed, her muscles ripple beneath her skin, the curves of her pale back carved and defined.

She lets out a low groan, burying her head deeper into my chest.

What time is it?

I grab my phone off the nightstand, pressing the cool metal button. Nothing happens. I press it again.

Dammit.

Careful not to disturb her, I slip out from under Peyton and maneuver toward the other nightstand. The cold November air creeps up my pants, the chill nipping at my ankles as I cross the room. I reach for her phone, fingers brushing against the device, and this time, the screen flickers to life.

2 missed calls.

1 message from someone named Avery.

10:45.

Hm. Not bad. Setting the phone down and scanning the room, my eyes land on my bag, half-open, clothes spilling out.

I stroll over, rifling through it. The zipper’s caught on a sleeve, and I tug it free with a quick flick.

Then I dig through the mess, pulling out a soft pair of sweatpants, then reach deeper, grabbing my—

Wait. 10:45?

“Shit!”

Peyton groans from the bed, draping an arm over her eyes. “What?” she grumbles.

My knees drop to the creaky hardwood, a throbbing ache zinging through them as I frantically pack. “The bus leaves in fifteen minutes!”

Peyton’s entire body jerks upright, her tired eyes shooting open.

The blanket shifts with her movement, slipping off her body and pooling into her lap.

In the warmth of the daylight, her pale skin glows with a red undertone, the ample soft swells on her chest perked in the cool air.

While I quickly threw on clothes the moment we finished last night, Peyton doesn’t make any move to cover herself as she scrambles out of bed.

Not that she should.

Every inch of that body is a dream. Even if Peyton is a nightmare.

She strolls over to her side of the room—yeah, that worked—body swaying with each step. Beams of light catch her skin, illuminating the subtle curve of her ass, and I quickly glance away.

Definitely, definitely shouldn’t be looking at that.

I tug on my gloves, snatching up anything and everything scattered on the floor and shoving it into my bag.

“How the hell is it almost eleven?” she asks, peering at her phone screen with a wrinkled brow. Her hip pops to the side as she shifts her weight, the curve of the bone peeking from beneath her skin, and—

Look away, Darcy. Look away.

“Because we stayed up way later than we should have,” I answer, averting my gaze.

I sit on my bag to compress the contents inside, zipping it closed.

When I sling it over my shoulder and spin around, Peyton hasn’t moved an inch.

She’s still standing there, buck-ass-naked, bush out, ridiculously sexy, tapping on her phone.

She looks up, lips curling into a teasing grin.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one who kept me up,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Not that I’m complaining.”

I roll my eyes, spotting a t-shirt balled up on her bed. I grab it and toss it at her. She catches it without even looking up.

“Will you get dressed? We’re on a schedule here,” I shoot, as though the action wasn't ludicrously attractive.

Peyton grins, shaking out the tee and slipping her arms through the sleeves. As she lifts them to pull it over her head, I get a direct view of her chest again.

Damn.

It’s supple, soft, the pink buds of her nipples hard in the cold morning air. I like the way her skin stretches as she reaches up, and the way it folds when she tugs the shirt back down.

“We still have ten minutes. Want to get another one out before we leave?”

My eyes flick up, catching onto hers. She’s got this ridiculous grin on her face, and I can’t fully tell if she’s joking or not, but it doesn’t matter.

“No,” I say pointedly, ignoring the pulse that sparks between my thighs. “We have to leave. And this—” I gesture between us. “Can never—”

“Never happen again, I know.” She rolls her eyes, tugging on a pair of black briefs. They hug her hips perfectly, the muscle in her toned stomach disappearing past the waistband. She adds in a mumble, “Should only count as once if I haven’t gotten dressed yet.”

I cross my arms. “Would you ever put on clothes if that were the case?”

Peyton’s grin widens. “Nah.”

“Exactly.”

Turning toward the door, my fingers curl around the worn brass knob.

I pause, glancing back at her. She really does look beautiful, gray, baggy tee half-tucked into her briefs, her legs smooth and warm in the sunlight.

Brown shaggy hair sticks out, dark lashes resting against her cheeks as she stares down at her phone. I clear my throat.

“I know we already talked about this, but… please don’t tell anyone.”

She looks up, golden eyes glimmering with amusement. “Are you kidding?” she says, a teasing smile forming. “I’m keeping you all to myself.”

Heat rushes to my face, and I quickly step into the fall air, hoping it’ll cool me down.

Ten minutes later, we’re all on the bus. Well, everyone except Peyton.

“Darce, where’s Clarke?” my mom asks, staring at the clipboard in her hand as I climb the steps. I hold my breath, scared that if she looks at me, she’ll know what we did. What I did. My heart batters in my chest, crawling up my throat, and she looks up, frowning. “Darce?”

“I don’t know,” I answer quickly, hitching a shoulder. Then I wince as I take another step, hamstrings pulled tight.

I catch her eye, and her head tilts in concern. “You okay, sweetheart?”

I swear I feel a bead of sweat drip down my temple. “Flare up.” I nod, forcing a smile.

It’s true. Between the hike, skating, and…. that , every limb on my body feels like it’s ablaze. And since I didn’t want to risk Peyton seeing anything by following up on her promise of a massage, I had to take an extra painkiller when I was getting ready in the bathroom.

My mom pats my back gently. “Alright. Let me know if I can do anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

I push through the rows of seats. Harlowe’s already passed back out, drooling on Bailey's shoulder while Mr. Bubbles slobbers in her lap.

Behind them, Zayda and Lena huddle, watching what appears to be Love Island.

On the right, Indie's sitting alone, while Faith and Caydence talk about a PWHL game they watched at the cafeteria last night. Caydence’s eyes lock with mine as I walk past, and my jaw ticks.

I get it.

I understand being curious. I can see how, as the coach’s daughter who doesn’t play, me coming in and offering advice could be frustrating.

I don’t like that she looked me up, but I kind of expected it to happen eventually.

What really pissed me off was that she shared it with everyone, reading it aloud like it was a joke.

I wonder how funny she’d find it if she knew what really happened.

I slip into the window seat of the very last row on the left side, plopping down onto the neon eighties patterned fabric.

Instead of packing my bag underneath the bus like most, I keep mine with me.

Not only so that I have my meds just in case, but also so that I can set it in the seat beside me, in the event anyone—more specifically Peyton—tries to sit beside me.

I’m still trying to process it all. How she got me on the ice. Why I said I wanted her to kiss me. Why I meant it.

The portable charger in my hand vibrates when my phone chimes, and I glance at the screen.

ROOMIE

oh my god you're finally coming home ** crying emoji **

A soft laugh slips out of me as I type.

ME

I've been gone for three nights.

ROOMIE

i know. it's been terrible.

socks keeps meowing at your door. i think he thinks i locked you in there.

ME

Think he's jealous you're gonna get the kill first?

ROOMIE

oh stop it. socks is no murderer.

shit.

ME

What?

ROOMIE

he just knocked your picture frame off the counter

I laugh.

ROOMIE

anyway, i have news!

So do I…

ME

Finally realized your refusal of football players is essentially pointless because anyone regardless of career or hobby can be a pile of shit so you should probably just give Will a chance?

ROOMIE

first of all

i suddenly can't read

and secondly

i'm going to be an acupuncturist!!!

I blink, re-reading the message. Okay, that’s definitely a new one.

ME

Why acupuncture?

ROOMIE

well i've already taken all of these biology classes so it wouldn't be a big jump

ME

Makes sense enough. How long have you been interested in it?

ROOMIE

huh?

ME

In acupuncture?

ROOMIE

who said i was interested in it?

ME

…

I mean, you said you were going to be an acupuncturist so I just assumed.

ROOMIE

yeah i know. i haven't decided yet.

ME

If you're going to do it?

ROOMIE

if i'm interested in it

ME

You haven't decided if you're interested in it yet?

ROOMIE

yup

ME

…but you made the decision to do it? Professionally?

ROOMIE

yup

I wonder what it’s like to live in Cleo’s brain. Sometimes it’s hard for me to understand how we get along, because we couldn’t be more different. I’m decisive. I know what I want, and I plan how to get there. Cleo’s a pogo stick, bouncing in every direction, hoping she lands somewhere she likes.

I don’t think I do things the right way. And I don’t think Cleo does things the wrong way. I think we just both do things our way, and maybe that’s why it works.