All Chapters of FROZEN LINES: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

ELIOT The gear shift was a cold, jagged reminder of the space between us, but I stopped caring about the discomfort the second my mouth found his. All the weeks of calculated distance disintegrated. I hauled him towards me, my fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket before sliding upward to anchor in his hair. I needed to feel the weight of him, the reality of him, to drown out the voice in my head telling me I was twice his age and should know better. But Caleb wasn't letting me think. He was a low groan against my lips, his hands frantic as they found the hem of my sweater, sliding underneath to find bare skin. His palms were warm, a shocking contrast to the chill still clinging to the car windows. I shuddered, a raw, broken sound escaping my throat that I didn't recognize as my own. I pushed back, pressing him into the passenger seat. The space was too small, the steering wheel digging into my hip, but the restriction only made the hunger sharper. "Eliot," he gasped in

CALEB "You’re playing a dangerous game, Caleb," he breathed. "Discussing... starvation in a room full of witnesses? You were bold. " "I was honest," I said, closing the final inch between us. I rested my palms against the bookshelves on either side of his head, pinning him there. "You’re the one who asked the question. You wanted to know what happens when the ice breaks." I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of his ear. "It’s breaking, Eliot. Right now." His hand snapped up, his fingers threading into my hair just like I’d been picturing all through his lecture. "I should fail you," he whispered, his thumb dragging across my lower lip, pulling it down to reveal the teeth he’d felt against his skin in the dark. "I should kick you out of this office and never look at you again." "But you won't," I challenged, a slow smirk spreading across my face. "Because you're still hungry." He let out a low, wrecked sound and lunged forward, his mouth crashing into mine. The kiss b

CALEB I read it twice. " The house is too quiet now. Maybe my screams are actually worth bouncing off these walls." " You want noise, Eliot? Use your words." " You left. That was noise enough." He wasn’t asking me back. He was mad I didn’t stay without being asked. " You said Monday. You said the house was quiet. Pick one." " Come back and I’ll tell you which." Monday was forty-eight hours away. He had a big house and no one in it. I had an empty passenger seat and his text burning a hole in my phone. --- It was a crisp Saturday morning, and the energy of the alumni game was starting to peak. By the second period, I felt a rare sense of momentum, gliding across the ice with the puck tucked securely against my blade. With three minutes left on the clock, I was leaning into a sprint, my eyes locked on the net and the finish line in sight. Then, the world simply tilted. A blindside hit caught me mid-stride. There was the jarring, unmistakable crack of my helmet meetin

CALEB I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the printout the hospital administrator had handed my mom. It listed my intake details from the night of the crash. Right there, under Emergency Contact, it didn't say Mom or Dad. It wasn't Miller, my hockey co-captain. It said Eliot Ward. " Why the hell was my English professor the first person the hospital called?" When I asked my parents, they just shrugged. They figured Professor Ward was my academic advisor, or maybe he just happened to be nearby when the ambulance arrived. But it didn't make sense. I’m a senior. I know who my advisor is, and it isn't the guy who teaches the Senior Seminar. Besides, Miller told me Ward stayed at the hospital until four in the morning. Professors don't do that.Not even for the star of the hockey team. I wanted to see his face when I thanked him. I wanted to see if he’d drop a hint about what I was missing. But he just stood there behind his desk. Now, sitting in his Monday morning class,

CALEB I waited ten minutes into the lecture before pushing the heavy wooden doors open.I walked past my usual row, marched straight down to the very front of the theatre, and pulled out a chair. I sat down, slung my arms back, and stared at him. "Nice of you to join us, Mr. Foster," Eliot murmured. "Traffic was brutal, Professor," I replied smoothly, a dark smile tugging at my lips. "Don't let me interrupt." For the next fifty minutes,my eyes were never off him. Every time Eliot faced the class, my gaze was waiting. He tried to look away, but his eyes kept snapping back to me. When the clock hit noon and the class cleared out, I stayed pinned to my seat. Once the heavy door clicked shut, Eliot slowly lowered his head, gripping the edges of the podium. When he finally looked up, his armour was completely gone. "What do you want, Mr Foster ?" "I was just thinking about my essay topic, Professor," I replied. "I want to write about boundaries. About how a space can change d