Page 67 of Like a Power Play (Greenrock University: Icebound #1)
A low laugh slips out of Harlowe. “Obviously.” She grins. “Bailey wanted to fuck with you. Now spill. Details. Stat.”
A flush creeps up my neck as the memories flash in my mind. Her hands on my waist, the rasp of her voice in my ear, the faint taste of strawberry lip balm. How she kissed me against the bathroom wall like there was nothing else in the world but us.
Bailey, Harlowe, and I don’t have boundaries.
We overshare. Always have. Always will. Hookups, heartbreaks, bowel movements.
But back at the cabin, Darcy had asked me not to tell anyone.
And they don’t know about what’s really going on with her.
With the Regurgitated Arthritis. I already feel like I’ve betrayed something just by saying her name.
So I shrug, avoiding their eyes.
“There’s not much to say,” I mumble, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “It happened. And it’s not going to happen again. That’s all.”
Harlowe’s eyes narrow, and she exchanges a glance with Bailey. “And you said just once, right?” she asks, but the glint in her eye tells me she might already know the answer.
“Twice,” I admit, voice muffled as I hide my mouth behind the collar of my snow jacket. “And we kissed in the diner bathroom.”
Harlowe lets out a low whistle. “Damn. Peyton Clarke has finally fallen in love.”
“I have not 'fallen in love',” I shoot back, knowing damn well I'm lying. “I’m just… mildly disoriented.”
“You never hook up with the same person twice,” Bailey points out. “You’re totally in love.”
I roll my eyes back so far I can see each nerve ending in my brain. “I don’t fall in love.”
“I hate to tell you this, bud,” Harlowe starts, forcing an apologetic wince.
“But you’ve been talking about her since the day you met.
You snuggled on the bus on the way home from the retreat.
And we know she's been practicing at the rink with you in the mornings. Cleo told us. Every time you score, you immediately look for her on the bench. And what happened at the Hornets game? I’m sure that has something to do with her too. ”
My cheeks warm, the skin stinging against the frigid contrast of the cold winter air. I don’t understand how it could be so obvious to them, when I only figured it out a few weeks ago myself.
“I don’t fall in love,” I repeat, this time even less convincing than the first.
Harlowe smiles, softer now as she pats my shoulder sympathetically. “Peyton,” she says with earnest. “You already have.”
I tip my head into the pine green gloves Avery’s roommate knitted for me and rub at my temples. “Yeah.” I sigh, defeated. “I know.” My stomach flips, and I press a hand to it.
Harlowe rubs slow circles on my back. “You okay?”
I nod. “Just nauseous.”
“Lovesick,” Bailey chirps.
I groan. “God! How did this even happen?”
I glance at both of them like it’s their fault.
Like loving them made me soft enough to be capable of this.
But the truth is, I’ve always been capable of it.
I’ve had love for every person I’ve met.
I just thought Darcy was the exception—with her obnoxious voice, that maddening smirk, her relentless need to be right.
I thought I couldn’t stand her. But I love all of it.
And I didn’t realize it sooner because it isn’t just love.
It’s being in love. And that feels completely, terrifyingly different.
“Yeah, it sucks,” Harlowe deduces. “Love has no regard for convenience. It does what it wants.”
Bailey’s pink tube tightens as she plops down into it, nodding. “Can confirm.” She looks at Harlowe. “So, you gonna pay up now?”
Harlowe’s gaze flicks to me, a devilish grin tugging at her lips, a glint of mischief in her eyes.
Without breaking eye contact, she lifts her foot and swiftly kicks Bailey’s sled, sending her flying down the hill before Bailey can stop it.
Bailey’s scream echoes all the way down, and I can’t help but laugh as I watch her arms flailing at her sides, her head bobbing over every bump in the snow.
“She’s going to kill you for that,” I manage to say between fits of giggles.
Harlowe just shrugs. “Worth it.” She pauses, her eyes flicking between me and Bailey. There’s a soft, almost knowing smile playing at her lips. “So… what about Darcy?”
I shrug. “What about her?”
Harlowe gives me a look I’ve known for years. One that tells me she’s not buying my ignorant act. “Does she feel the same?”
Despite the brittle chill of the winter air, it starts to feel thick. Too dense to fill my lungs, too heavy to reach my mind. My tongue drifts over the dent in my cheek, grounding me as I search for the right words.
“I don’t know,” I admit, voice quieter than I intend. My eyes fall to the ground like maybe if I look hard enough, I’ll find a new answer buried in the snow. “I thought maybe she did. But she told me she’s not into the whole dating thing. And now…” My words fumble. “I don’t even know anymore.”
Harlowe grows quiet for a moment. She drops into the tube beside mine, her hands planted behind her, eyes on the slope where Bailey’s still screaming all the way down.
Then, those pretty blue eyes flicking to me, she says, “So go ask her.”
A sarcastic laugh tumbles out of me. “Yeah, okay. I’ll just show up to her apartment like some crazy stalker.”
“You’re not a stalker,” Harlowe says calmly, though she rolls her eyes. “You’re confused. And a little pathetic.”
I shoot her a look.
“I say that with love,” she adds quickly. “But seriously, Pey. I know this is a first for you, but we both know I’ve been through this more than once. Remember Odette from freshman year?”
A small gasp escapes my mouth, and I collapse into my tube beside her. “Oh my god, Odette! I hope she’s doing well. I loved her.”
Harlowe's frown deepens. “Yeah, me too.”
I give her a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”
“Anyway,” she continues. “Remember how I basically went feral for five months because I wasn’t sure if she liked me back?”
I nod, the memory flooding back. “Yeah, and then I had to come drag you out of a party on frat row because you’d watched Pitch Perfect 3 and were mad that Beca and Chloe still didn’t end up together.”
“Bechloe is real, and I’ll die on that hill,” Harlowe says with a pointed look.
She sighs, getting back to the point. “The thing is, this—” she gestures toward me, “—if it’s real, it doesn’t just go away.
You can ignore it, but it’ll always be in the back of your mind.
” She gives me a teasing grin, her tone softening.
“And listen, I’m not losing the playoffs ‘cause you’re out here emotionally concussed over some girl. So you better go talk to her.”
Harlowe and Bailey have both had their fair share of heartbreak and pitiful pining.
Which is ironic because both of them are the type people pine after.
I remember each and every one, pushing them to have the same conversation that Harlowe is pushing me to have now.
But it feels different, being on this side of it.
I now suddenly understand why they’d have so much resistance.
Why they said they couldn’t, or that it was a bad idea.
Some things are better left unknown.
“It really sounded like she meant it when she said she was done,” I say.
“Maybe she’s scared,” she replies. “Or maybe she really doesn’t like you. But either way, don’t you want to know for sure?”
I don’t answer. I don't need to, because we both know the truth.
We look out over the summit at the crowd of bodies below. We don't say anything. We just stand there in silent acknowledgement.
“Mister,” she calls after a moment, patting the icy slope beside her. Mr. Bubbles trots over, watching intently for her command.
“And I just… say it?” I ask hesitantly, glancing at the bottom of the hill. Bailey is a baby pink ant, but I can make out her tiny little arms propped on her hips, waiting. Harlowe nods.
“You just say it,” she says. Then she whips her head toward Mister, and, with a snappy command, shouts, “Go!” The big dog springs forward, his belly brushing the snow as he slides down the icy slope, following Harlowe’s lead.
I watch them for a beat, my heart picking up speed. I glance back at Bailey, her impatient stance stagnant. I take a slow breath.
Just say it , I think.
Then I nudge myself forward, hesitating for a split second before the edge of the hill gives way beneath me.