Icebreaker: Chapter 28

MY PHONE IS full of messages, and I don’t need to open them because I opened one, and the rest of them are guaranteed to be the same.

They’ll all be of me, strolling through my living room drunk and practically naked, trying to drag Anastasia upstairs with me like a needy, inebriated baby.

She’s still curled up beside me, her soft breath tickling against my chest, brown locks decorating my bicep. I can see the remains of our pillow barricade strewn across my bedroom floor.

I can’t remember, but I’d imagine I’m probably to blame for that.

I’d say the fact that we’re cuddling right now is probably me, too, but judging by the content look on her face as she sleeps peacefully, I’d guess she’s about as happy about this closeness as I am.

I never usually get super drunk because my friends are too irresponsible to be around other people and not have some real adult supervision. But last night, I was goaded into a drinking game by a woman that I assume was cheating.

She was looking after me and not the other way around, and that alone practically confirms my suspicions. I decide to brave the worst while she’s still asleep and open the team group chat.

The next message is from my sister, Sasha.

My dad took my advice and offered to take us on vacation to St. Barts for Christmas. I don’t know who was more shocked: Sasha for getting what she wanted or me because he listened to my advice.

I’d love to spend Christmas with Sasha, but I’d genuinely rather swim in shark-infested waters wearing a seal suit than spend two weeks with Dad in another country.

My phone buzzes with another message from the team.

Oh great. I’m a meme now.

Sometimes I make it too easy for them, but this is next level too easy for them. I haven’t had a girlfriend the whole time we’ve been at college. Not that she’s my girlfriend. Why am I panicking like she can hear my thoughts? When I told her I was an all-or-nothing person I was mainly joking. I sure as hell wasn’t expecting her to move in.

The idea of her not living with me and the guys is weird to me now, and I’m worried about where we go from here. She says once she sorts things out with Aaron, she wants to move back. It’s hard to understand, especially since she calls this house home.

Anastasia thinks starting our relationship—yes, she said relationship—off in such an intense way might set us up for failure. Then she reminds me at the end of the school year, I’ll be moving to Canada, and she’ll be here alone. She isn’t wrong, but it still doesn’t convince me she should live with Aaron again.

She stirs in my arms, which feels about the right time to start fake snoring, but her eyes snap open, and she immediately looks unimpressed. “Why are you staring at me, you big creep?” She doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “Don’t even try telling me I look beautiful. I can feel dry drool on my cheek.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“You are in such big trouble, mister,” she says with a yawn, stretching out all her limbs. I’m not sure if it’s the hangover or anxiety from waiting to be shouted at that’s making my stomach churn, but I’m queasy. “How’s your head? Do you want me to make you some pancakes?”

Well, shit. I wasn’t expecting that. “I embarrassed you and you want to make me pancakes?”

“You embarrassed yourself.” She chuckles. “And I know for a fact your friends are going to terrorize you today. Potentially for the rest of your life, thinking about it. You could say they’re pity pancakes more than anything. You want choc chip?”

She sits up beside me, wild hair like a lion’s mane and sleepy but warm eyes. I can’t help but reach up and cup her face, brushing my thumb carefully where her cheeks are flushed. “What did I do to deserve you?”

She kisses the palm of my hand quickly and climbs over me to get out of bed. “You’re very kind and you’re very pretty.”

“What if I get attacked by a mountain lion and it eats off my face, will you still like me then?”

I can see her trying to suppress a laugh as her lips pull into a tight line. “You spend too much time with JJ. He’s always asking me shit like this. Uh, will you still be kind when you’re faceless?”

I think about it. “Yes.”

“I’ll still like you.”

We pick up this conversation in the kitchen, where everyone is now impatiently waiting around for the pancakes Stassie is making.

“What if he gets bitten by a shark but survives and has a cool scar, but every full moon he becomes a shark. Will you like him then?” JJ asks, flinching when he tries to steal a pancake from the pile Stassie is adding to, and she slaps his hand away.

“When he’s a shark, does he live in the sea or is he in a bathtub that I have to top up and stuff?”

Without hesitation, JJ fires back. “Sea. You just have to drop him off at Venice Beach before the sun sets.”

“Yeah, I’ll still like him.”

Plating up the pancakes and passing them around, she covers her own plate in strawberries and syrup. Protein pancakes are her new obsession because it means she no longer has to tolerate the disgusting taste of protein shakes.

Henry’s been oddly quiet listening to Robbie, JJ, and Sabrina round off scenario after scenario to see where the line is. Henry doesn’t tend to stay quiet for long. “So, what I’m hearing, Stassie, is that as long as Nathan is nice to you, there isn’t anything that would make you not like him?”

She shrugs. “Uh, I suppose? I don’t know. I’m not too worried about him joining the mafia or having to only wear a clown suit for the rest of his life, so I mean, it’s not real, is it?”

“That sounds like you’re in love with him to me.” Everyone’s eyes widen and heads turn to face him at the same time. With a mouth full of pancakes, he looks between us all, confused. “Ww-hhott?”

Does it feel good that Stas would still like me if I had crab hands? Of course. Do I want Henry putting her on the spot over pancakes when we’re trying to wait this out until January? No.

Taking a sip of his water, he clears his throat. “Judging by the way everyone’s staring at me, I feel like that might be one of those things I’m not supposed to say.”

“These pancakes are amazing, Stassie,” JJ says loudly.

“The best,” I mumble, sticking another forkful in my mouth.

She’s concentrating hard on her strawberries, but she can’t hide her pink cheeks.

Interesting.

“NATE, this isn’t the way to the rink.”

“We’re not going to the rink.”

Brady said we needed to work through our trust issues, so that’s what we’re going to do. Trust issues is what we’re calling them because we’re a team. Saying it’s Stassie’s fear puts the blame on her and gives her something else to punish herself for.

“We can’t skip practice because you’re hungover,” she drawls.

“I had three doughnuts with JJ earlier, I’m not hungover anymore. And we’re not skipping. Brady approves.”

“And what’re we doing?”

“We’re going to learn to trust each other.”

The rest of the car journey is quiet as she sits and sulks because I won’t tell her where we’re going. Jokes on her, I like her pouty lips and the way her nose scrunches when she’s annoyed.

Pulling into the UCMH pool parking lot, I immediately feel her eyes on me. “Swimming? You’re joking, right?”

“The whole swim team are in Philadelphia at some comp. We have the pool to ourselves; I’m going to prove to you I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

It’s a good plan in principle, but the way her face sinks makes my heart ache.

“I don’t even have a suit.”

“I took Sabrina home at lunch and she got me all your things. You have everything you need and it’s all going to be okay.”

“If you say so,” she grumbles, unbuckling her seat belt.

I’ve been waiting outside the locker rooms for fifteen minutes and there is no sign of her. I have considered she might have requested an Uber, but finally, her head appears.

“Did you give Sabrina any requirements when you asked her to get me a swimsuit?”

“I asked for her to get something that you can go in the pool in, why?”

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Well, just know that this bikini was last worn during spring break in Palm Springs.”

Her head disappears, then all of her steps out, and I choke on nothing. Air? My own salvia? I don’t know, but I’m struggling for oxygen.

Calling what she’s wearing a bikini is a massive exaggeration. What she’s wearing is tiny scraps of material that do absolutely nothing to cover anything. She spins around, and yep, her whole ass is out, the tiniest bit of pink string resting between her cheeks. “You honestly thought Brin was going to give me something practical?”

My mouth is like a desert and I’m struggling to swallow. She’s been getting undressed in the bathroom since the start of our agreement, so I haven’t seen this much skin since we last showered. She was genuinely wearing more than this the last time we had sex.

“Uh.” Smooth. “Uh, should we get in the pool?”

She’s trying not to laugh and I’m trying not to blatantly ogle her, and neither of us is doing very well. I’m so fucking glad the swim team isn’t here right now. I’m not sure I could punch every single guy who looked in her direction, although I’d give it a good go.

The swim center has a couple of different pools, so we’re working in the most shallow one. The aim is for Stassie to believe I won’t drop her while she has the security of a mouth full of chlorine being the worst-case scenario.

“Oh great.” She groans after hearing the plan, dropping herself into the water from the side. “So not only do I have to worry about you dropping me, now I have to worry about drowning.”

“I’m not going to drop you and I’d never let you drown. Repeat it back to me so I know you’re listening,” I say, dropping beside her.

“You’re not going to drop me.”

“What else?”

“You’d never let me drown.”

“Good. Now, what are we doing first?”

I’ve never concentrated on something so hard in my life. Even with the added element of the water, every move so far, which we’ve practiced at least ten times each, has been very easy.

The depth of the pool is enough to give her that security she needs, while still allowing us to work with our height difference. She told me we’re starting the hard ones now and immediately her enthusiasm has changed.

“I lean forward and push my body up from your hips,” she says, putting both her hands on my hip bones. “My cheek is going on your shoulder like this. Sort of lock your arms under my rib cage and lean back. It’s almost like a counterweight situation.”

I do exactly what she says, slowly leaning back as her body rises out of the water, legs extended perfectly. I have a great view of her ass right now, but I’m happy about the lift too.

Her body lowers down, and I stay in position until she tells me I can stop. Her smile is practically infectious and I’m so relieved this seems to be working. We do it another handful of times until she’s happy.

“What are we doing next, Coach?”

Pressing her fingers to her lips, her cheeks blush and she shakes her head. “I don’t want to show you.”

“I promise I won’t drop you.”

She splashes her hands against the water, looking anywhere but me. “It’s not only that. Uh, I’m kind of concerned you’re going to get an eyeful of what’s between my legs. I have to spread my legs wide while I’m above your head.”

I’ve seen her do this one; I’d say her concerns are valid, given the size of her piece of string. “You can’t show me anything I haven’t already seen. You’ve used my face as a seat, Anastasia. I’m a big fan of your work—arguably your biggest fan.”

She mutters, “For fuck’s sake,” under her breath and turns around to face away from me. “Ready?” She links her fingers with mine and counts down from three. I push her up in the air, locking my arms as her legs spread out. She’s wobbling a little and her hands are gripping me tighter.

“Don’t panic, I’ve got you. I’d catch you before you even hit the water, baby. Concentrate.” I can hear her muttering to herself, but I can’t work out what she’s saying and after a few seconds the wobbling stops, and she begins to laugh. Her legs drop down and I slowly lower her back into the water. “Well done, you’re doing so well.”

We practice a handful more times until she’s happy we’ve nailed it, and each time I lower her back into the water, I can feel the fear slipping away.

“You’re really strong, you know,” she says, almost like she’s surprised. I’m not getting into it with her because I know that she probably weighed herself this morning and now isn’t the time.

“Why don’t we do the lift you were doing when you were dropped. Is that the one worrying you the most?”

She floats in front of me in the water explaining the ins and outs of the move but doesn’t let me touch her. I sink down so my shoulders are submerged, too, and listen to her tell me where our hands need to go. I can hear the anxiety in her voice, and I can’t imagine how much worse it’d be if she had hit the ice.

“Anastasia, listen to me. I’m not going to drop you, and even if I did, you’re going in the water. That’s the absolute worst thing that could happen. You get wet hair and a mouth full of gross

Maple Hills pool water.”

“I know I’m being silly, I’m sorry. I trust you, I promise.”

“Come on, no more talking. Let’s do it.” We get into position, and before she has time to change her mind, she’s above my head, balancing on one of my hands. Even with my hand only on her hip, I can feel the way her body is shaking and can hear her erratic breathing. “Deep breaths.”

“Let me down, I don’t like it.”

“Try to make yourself fall, Stas. Wiggle about. Move as much as you can.”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“Just do it!”

She mutters some expletives as she begins to thrash about above my head. It takes me all of one second to get my other hand on her other hip and it doesn’t matter how much she moves, she’s not going anywhere. I give her another ten seconds of moving around, trying to get free before I slowly lower her back into the water in front of me, hands still secured on her hips.

“See? You’re safe.”

Her stomach is flat against mine, arms tight around my neck, breathing labored. “What did I do to deserve you?”

I press my lips against her forehead, thinking about the best way to answer that question. There isn’t one, so I’ll have to settle. “I don’t know, but I’d like you if you had crab hands too.”