Page 11 of Ice Cold Chemistry
We link pinkies, shake on it, and then Zayden hauls her toward the stairs while she waves dramatically over his shoulder like she’s being carried off to war.
Tori appears from the kitchen, two wine glasses already in hand. “She’s been asking about you evening. You’veofficially achieved celebrity status.”
“I’m honored.” I hold up my contributions. “I brought wine and cheese.”
“And I already have wine and cheese.” She grins. “So now we have too much wine and cheese, which is always the correct amount.”
I follow her into the living room, where the coffee table is already covered in snacks—crackers, grapes, three different kinds of cheese, and what looks like some kind of fancy fig spread. Candles flicker on the mantle, and soft music plays from a speaker somewhere.
This is exactly what I needed.
I sink into the corner of the couch, accepting the wine glass Tori hands me. “This place is disgustingly beautiful, you know that?”
“I know.” She curls up on the other end of the couch, tucking her feet underneath her. “When I moved in, Zay wanted to make sure it felt like mine too. He told me to hire a decorator if I wanted, but I insisted on doing it myself. Turns out I have excellent taste.”
“Humble, too.”
“Always.” She clinks her glass against mine. “Okay, spill. Tell me about this rocky start.”
I take a long sip of wine, letting it warm me from the inside. “Where do I even begin?”
“At the beginning. Day one. All of it.”
So I tell her. About the extra players showing up—way more than signed up. About the front-row stares and the not-so-subtle comments. About Grayson planting himself three feet away from me, treating every stretch like his personal entertainment.About the whispers and snickers and the feeling of being watched every second of every class.
About hiding in the equipment closet afterward, trying to hold it together. Like an emotional weirdo.
Tori listens without interrupting, her expression darkening with every word.
“And then there’s Banks,” I say, reaching for a cracker. “He showed up at my session today. Just stood in the corner, watching. Didn’t really participate. Just… lurked.”
“Banks doesn’t lurk. He observes.”
I raise one eyebrow. “There’s a difference?”
“According to Zayden, yes.” She sips her wine. “But he told Grayson to shut up? That’s interesting.”
“Interesting is one word for it. Terrifying is another. The whole room went dead silent. Grayson actually looked scared for a second.”
“Good. Grayson should be scared.” Tori pulls her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees. “What did Banks say to you afterward?”
“He asked if I was okay. Which was weird because the one time I met him before, he barely acknowledged I existed. I figured he hated me.”
“Banks doesn’t hate you. He just takes a while to warm up. He’s not great with new people.”
“Or words.”
“Or words,” she agrees. “But he’s a good guy. Zay trusts him completely.”
Footsteps on the stairs announce Zayden’s return. He appears in the living room doorway, looking tired but content.
“She’s down,” he reports. “Two stories, a glass of water, and a lengthy negotiation about whether T-Rex slippers can sleep in the bed.”
“Can they?”
“Apparently yes, but only if they mind their manners and don’t roar.” He grabs a bottle of water from the kitchen and drops into the armchair across from us. “So, Winnie. I hear the new job is going well.”
I exchange a look with Tori.
