Page 182 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter

I make my way toward Oliver. He meets me halfway, his gaze dark. In all the times he’s escorted me from my apartment to campus and back again, we haven’t so much as spoken. I open my mouth to break that barrier, but nothing comes out.

I close my mouth again.

It’s snowing. I zip up my coat and pull my winter hat from my pocket. Oliver has a black beanie that he tugs on, then shoves his hands in his pockets. We walk side by side through campus and off of it. It’s dark out, and the side streets are only lit by the intermittent lamps. The snow is more visible in their glow, fat flakes that float lazily to the ground.

The roads and sidewalks are coated in a thin layer of snow, with more piling on every minute.

I take a deep breath and pause at the top of my street. I tip my head back and close my eyes.

In the winter, especially when it snows, the sky doesn’t get fully dark. It’s like the night gets stuck at that sort of twilight hour, and it’s like that now. It’s enough to cast the world in shadow.

“Come on,” Oliver says.

I crack an eye open. “Why? So you can go join your teammates fighting at the St. James party?”

He sighs. “No, because it’s cold.”

“I think it’s quite nice.”

“Nice if you like not having feeling in your toes.”

“I prefer to be comfortably numb all over, thank you,” I snip.

He doesn’t have a response to that.

After another few drawn-out seconds, I lower my arms and continue on. He follows me to the steps of the brownstone.

I shouldn’t invite him up.

But…

“You know what I’ve been craving?” I ask.

He raises an eyebrow.

“That hot chocolate you made.” I bite my lip. “I have the milk, and, um, the brick of chocolate…”

He frowns. “Where did you get it?”

“Well...” I blush. “I asked Perri and she found it for me.”

It was no big deal… it didn’t feel like it, anyway.

But that was weeks ago. Weeks ago. And then everything happened, and I shoved any thought of Oliver coming over right out of my head.

He nods, although he’s still not smiling. I don’t think I’ve seen him smile in forever.

“Okay,” he agrees.

He comes upstairs with me, his breath even and as quiet as his footsteps behind me. I unlock the door and push it open, stepping inside.

I stop so suddenly, he bumps into me.

The light switch didn’t work. But even then, in the gloom, it’s easy to see that something isn’t quite right. My apartment is in disarray?—

“Sydney, move!” Oliver shoves me sideways. A second later, someone comes out of the shadows and tackles him.

I scream.