Breaking The Ice Between Us のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

"James," I said, voice tight."Yeah?""Shut the fuck up."He burst out laughing. Actually laughing. Like this was the funniest shit in the world.I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. My patience was already stretched thin, and James acting like this was some kind of joke wasn’t helping."You’re real fucking annoying, you know that?" I muttered."Yeah, yeah, I love you too, man," he said, still amused. "So what now? You gonna sulk about this all night? Or—wait—" He gasped dramatically. "Don’t tell me you’re obsessed with Pretty Boy now."I nearly threw my damn phone out the window."I’m not fucking obsessed," I snapped."Uh-huh. You sure? ’Cause you stormed out of the bar like a lover scorned.""James.""Like a princess whose hand was refused—"I ended the call and tossed my phone onto the passenger seat.Fucking asshole.I focused on the road, but irritation burned under my skin like a low flame. My mood had already been shit when I left the bar, but somehow, James had made it worse. No

This day was supposed to be perfect.I was supposed to wake up, hit the gym, maybe grab a coffee, and then, the best part—meet up with Anonymous69. In the flesh. Finally.Instead, here I was, standing outside my apartment, staring down at a sniveling mess of a person I really didn’t have time for."Please," he begged, voice cracking like a cheap phone screen. "I swear it didn’t mean anything!"I groaned, dragging a hand through my hair. "Why today of all fucking days?"Like, seriously. I hadn’t heard from him in months, and now, the second I had somewhere to be, he decided to pop up like a goddamn fungus?He clutched my wrist, looking up at me with wide, tear-filled eyes. "I miss you. I swear I’ll do anything, just—just give me another chance. I’ll make it up to you."I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply through my nose. My patience was hanging by a fucking thread.I pried his fingers off me one by one, shaking my head. "Listen, dipshit." My voice was sharp, cutting through his pathetic

I shoved Andrew Parker away. "One shoot," I bit out. My pulse was already pounding, my temper hanging by a thread. "That’s it." Andrew barely stumbled, his stupid towel staying perfectly in place like it was glued to his hips. He just lifted a brow, "One shoot, huh?" His lips curled to a soft smile. "Sounds fair." Fair, my ass. But whatever. I was already here. And if I was gonna humiliate myself, I might as well make some cash while doing it. Andrew turned, walking back into the hotel room, and I followed, jaw clenched so hard I thought I might crack a tooth. The suite was nice. Plush carpet, sleek furniture, soft lighting. A huge bed with crisp white sheets—practically begging to be ruined. I refused to think about that. "Let’s get this over with." I said, crossing my arms. Without looking remotely phased, he ran a hand through his hair, and—of fucking course— let his towel drop to the floor like it was nothing. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. I immediately looked away, my jaw lo

The drive home was quiet in that weird, unnatural way—like the world was holding its breath around me. Windows down, wind in my hair, cigarette smoke curling out into the dark. I let the radio hum low in the background, not really listening. Just static and soft rock and the occasional commercial trying to sell me shit I didn’t need.By the time I pulled into my building’s parking garage, my mood was dogshit. I parked, grabbed the grocery bag, and made a beeline for the front door.Of course, it didn’t help that I lived in a building full of friendly-ass neighbors.“Hey Captain!” some lady from the third floor waved, holding her dog like it was a damn toddler.I didn’t even glance her way. Just walked straight ahead, keys already in hand, boots hitting the pavement a little too hard.“Rough day?” some guy asked—pretty sure it was Steve. Or Stan. Or whatever.I ignored him too.I wasn’t in the mood for small talk or sympathy. I just wanted to get inside, lock the door, and forget Andre

ANDREW PARKER ~ I walked through the sliding glass doors of St. Elora’s Hospital with a bouquet of pink carnations in one hand, my hoodie pulled up halfway because it was chilly, and my headphones still resting around my neck playing some mellow lo-fi beat. I wasn’t in a rush. I never was anymore. These visits had become so routine they almost felt like brushing my teeth in the morning. Something I had to do. Something automatic. Except it wasn’t just a chore — it was my lifeline to a world that still made sense. The lobby smelled like a weird mix of antiseptic and coffee. It always did. There was the faint beeping of machines somewhere in the distance and the soft murmur of nurses at the front desk. As soon as I stepped in, I caught the usual smiles. “Morning, Andrew!” the older receptionist, Sarah, called out with a cheerful wave. Her glasses were too big for her face and she always had a candy jar near her elbow. Today, it was filled with peppermint swirls. “Hey Sara