All Chapters of Across The Ice: Falling for my ex’s biggest rival: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

By the time I got back to the cabin, smiling had become a problem. My cheeks actually hurt, and I didn’t notice until Ava looked up from the book resting in her lap, studied my face for a few seconds, then quietly closed it. “Oh no.” I dropped my backpack beside the bed. “What?” She pointed at me. “That.” “What about it?” “You’ve got the look.” “I don’t know what look you’re talking about.” “The one that says you’ve disappeared for over an hour and come back looking ridiculously happy.” “I was gone.” “And now you’re smiling.” “I am.” She folded her arms, trying very hard to look intimidating. “You’re being suspiciously calm.” “I’ve just had a nice evening.” “Mhm.” “You said you weren’t going to interrogate me anymore.” “I’m not.” She shrugged into her hoodie. “I’ll find out eventually. I always do. Right now, Melissa texted everyone. Apparently we’re meeting at the lodge in ten minutes.” “What for?” “No clue.” She reached for the door. “But Ryan’s involved, so I’d lo

Tuesday night should have felt exciting. Instead, I found myself sitting at the dining table with the Mercer Athletics contract spread open in front of me, reading the same pages for what had to be the fourth time. Every clause made sense, every figure looked real, and every opportunity on those pages aligned perfectly with the future I’d imagined ever since deciding sports journalism was where I belonged. None of that was making the decision difficult. The problem was the logo printed across the top of every page. Mercer Athletics. That single name carried far more weight than the rest of the contract combined. Ava wandered into the kitchen wearing oversized pajamas, took one look at me and immediately burst out laughing. “You haven’t moved.” “I have.” She eyed the untouched glass of juice beside my elbow. “Rotating the contract doesn’t count.” “It absolutely counts as movement.” Still grinning, she crossed the room, picked up the folder without waiting for permission, an

By the time Dean pulled up outside my dorm, the excitement from the campaign shoot had settled into the kind of exhaustion that follows a genuinely good day. The makeup was gone, my hair had long since escaped whatever miracle the stylist had managed that morning, and I was more than ready to collapse onto my couch. Even so, neither of us questioned it when he parked and walked me to the entrance. Somewhere over the past week, saying goodbye through an open car window had stopped feeling like enough. I glanced up at the building before looking back at him. “So…” “So.” “You’ve driven me home. It would be rude not to invite you in.” A grin spread across his face. “I was trying very hard not to invite myself.” “Good. Keep that habit.” “I’ll do my best.” The hallway was unusually quiet as we climbed the stairs. Most people were either at dinner or still scattered across campus, leaving only the distant sound of music drifting from somewhere farther down the corridor. I unlocked t

Saturday morning began with Melissa.My phone rang before I’d even finished getting ready, and the moment her name flashed across the screen, I knew exactly what the call was about.“I hope I didn’t wake you.”“You didn’t.” I smiled, tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear as I straightened a stack of notebooks on my desk. “I’m guessing today is launch day.”“It is. Thirty minutes.”I wandered toward the window overlooking campus. Students crossed the walkways as though it were any other Saturday morning, blissfully unaware that my life was about to become considerably more complicated.“We’re releasing the campaign while everyone’s still talking about last night’s win,” Melissa continued. “The timing couldn’t be better. Mercer Athletics will post first, then you’ll accept the collaboration request from your account. We’ll roll out the individual campaign photos throughout the day.”“Okay.”She hesitated just long enough for her next question to carry a little more weight.“You

By Tuesday, I had convinced myself that the worst of the campaign drama was over, which, in hindsight, should have been my first warning sign that something worse was coming. My second mistake was ignoring Ava’s first text because I was halfway through a lecture and pretending to be a responsible student.Ava: Iris.Two minutes later, my phone buzzed again beneath the desk.Ava: Please tell me you’ve seen Instagram.I stared at the screen, already uneasy. Ava didn’t text like that. She usually sent thoughts in installments, six messages deep, with punctuation used sparingly and question marks treated like a limited resource. Two complete sentences meant something was wrong.Me: Seen what?She sent a post almost immediately. It was from one of Easton’s newer media staff, someone I vaguely recognized from the editing room. The caption read camp through my camera roll 🏒🌲, and at first glance, it looked painfully normal. Fifteen pictures from training camp. The lake. Pizza boxes. The ri