2

CHAPTER TWO

EYES ON ICE

ISLA

The second time I realized things had changed, it wasn’t because Rowan touched me again. It was because Ellis Grant smiled at me from the ice.

I was sitting in my usual seat at their practice, my knees tucked to my chest, sketchbook balanced on my thighs. The rink buzzed with noise, skates cutting ice, pucks slamming into boards, and Asher’s voice and their coach’s voice louder than the rest.

You know, it was just the normal flow, the one that made me feel safe. Until Ellis looked up.

He was skating backward, listening to Asher bark instructions, when his gaze flicked toward the stands like they were searching for something until they landed on me. His mouth curved into a soft, knowing smile, small enough that no one else noticed.

But I did.

And that little action disrupted my momentum, and my pencil faltered.

His eyes rolled back to the rink lazily, taking it away from me like it had never happened. Like he hadn’t just reached across a rink full of distance and pulled my attention to center around him.

For some weird reasons, Rowan wouldn't look at me, and as much as it hurts, I couldn't voice out my frustration.

I tried to focus on my sketchbook, my pencil moving at the direction of my fingers, doodling shapes and shadows, anything that could distract me from the heat of their gazes—Noah had joined Ellis in his little sneaky peek game.

Then I felt the hair at the back of my neck rise… and I knew he had finally looked at me.

I could feel Rowan watching me long before my own eyes had time to wander toward him. It made my hands shake, and my sketches came out jagged.

“Isla?”

My head snapped up, Asher's voice disrupting my thoughts as I brought my gaze to focus on him.

“Yes?” I replied, keeping my voice level. My cheeks burned even though the stands were mostly empty.

“Don’t block the view,” he said, gesturing to the side where he knew I always perched. “Or are you just planning to disappear into that sketchbook forever?”

Why did I choose another place to sit? The feeling of three pairs of eyes burning into me made me feel something in the pit of my stomach. Something I've never felt before.

I forced a laugh, pretending I hadn’t noticed the way Rowan’s eyes had flicked to me at that moment. My brother leaned back on his stick, scanning the ice. “Just… stay here, alright? I can watch you better.”

I nodded, trying not to look toward the benches where the other three were huddled together. Ellis adjusted his helmet, Noah yawned, leaning lazily against the boards, while Rowan was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes burning and fixed.

My throat went dry.

It was maddening, trying to ignore them when every movement they made, every subtle glance, felt like a spotlight on me, and yet I was supposed to act invisible.

Later, after practice, I stayed back to pack my things slowly, telling myself it was only because I liked drawing the ice itself. I mean, the reflections and the cold light felt like magic. My brother had gone to speak with the coach, leaving me alone near the boards.

And that’s when Rowan appeared.

“Heading out?” His voice was low and calm, but it made my heart hammer.

I swallowed, trying not to meet his gaze. “Yeah… just… finishing up.”

“Want a hand carrying your stuff?”

I hesitated, my hands clutching the straps of my bag like it was a lifeline. “I—I can manage,” I said quickly, forcing a polite distance.

Distance… distance is the only way for you to stay sane, Isla.

But Rowan closed that distance anyway, careful not to crowd me, lifting a corner of my sketchbook. “You really shouldn’t hide this from everyone just the way you hide that beautiful face. It’s… good.”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks and shook my head. Rowan just called me beautiful!

“Thanks. I just… I don’t like showing it.”

“Doesn’t mean people don’t notice.” His words lingered, teasing at the line between observation and something more dangerous. I kept my gaze down, refusing to let him see that his presence alone made my pulse spike and his words painted my cheeks.

“Is he bothering you?”

I turned at the sound of Ellis's voice, and there was that smile of his.

Oh God…

“Yo, yo, yo!”

Rowan rolled his eyes at the sound of Noah's voice, and suddenly all three men were stealing my oxygen.

“Hi, captain’s little sister,” Noah called cheerily, waving his fingers while leaning against Rowan. Rowan shrugged him away.

“It's Isla,” I corrected.

“Captain's little sister,” he repeated, and I rolled my eyes.

“Your eyes are pretty when you roll them.”

I cleared my throat to keep my cheeks from warming at Ellis's words.

“I swear if you're bothering my sister, I'll cut off your balls!”

They all raised their hands in surrender at my brother's words, and I chuckled. Noah threw me a discreet wink, and I looked away.

The ride back to my dorm was quiet, my thoughts louder than the street traffic. I had to keep reminding myself: Rowan is my brother’s best friend. He’s off-limits. That’s the rule. And yet, every time I closed my eyes, I could still feel his hand brushing mine on the boards and the heat of his body against mine.

And somewhere in-between, Ellis and Noah popped up too. I mean, Ellis has a charming smile, and Noah is just… Noah.

That's it! I'm going fucking crazy!

I didn’t realize how tense I’d been until I leaned back against my dorm door, exhaling sharply. My roommate, Sonia, had been in the room when I arrived, headphones in, lost in her music.

“You look… weird,” she said, peeking up at me. “Did something happen at practice?”

I bit my lip. “No. Nothing.”

She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, and was about to go back to her music when she spoke.

“It's a far stretch, but there's a party I want you to come with me to tonight. And don't you dare say no! You deserve to live a life that doesn't have Asher North in it.”

I opened my mouth. I refused, but she was right. Maybe going out a bit would wipe those sinful men out of my thoughts.

We just walked into the frat house—Sonia didn't tell me it was a fucking frat house party—when she grabbed a drink, tapped me on my shoulder, and wandered off, telling me to “mingle and find my clique.”

Mingling was what I planned, until a pair of grey eyes crashed into mine.