Page 63 of Breaking the Ice

“Wait a minute,” I ask, getting into his Audi. “We don’t have sleds.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.” He winks, and my heart does a somersault.

He drives us to the other side of campus and parks near the big hill. It’s already crawling with students, all bundled and laughing. As I exit the car, he pops the trunk.

Evan retrieves something and holds it up. “Ta-da!”

“Is that…a lunch tray?”

“Yep! I borrowed it from the dining hall my freshman year just for this.”

“And obviously you’re going to return it before graduation?”

“Of course.” He hands me a rectangular orange plastic tray and then pulls a teal one for himself out of his trunk. “Let’s go!”

Puffing, we climb to the top of the hill, lifting our feet high to step over the snow. Fat flakes swirl in the air, and there is probably three inches of accumulation on the ground.

“Hey Evan,” a group of girls chorus across the space. Clad in matching red snowsuits and pom-pom hats, they somehow look sexy despite the bulk. They wave and smile, their grins almost as blinding as the expanse of white.

He doesn’t even look at them but keeps his eyes on me. “So here’s what you’re gonna do.”

“Sit on the tray and slide down the hill?” I say, sarcasm creeping into my voice.

Evan laughs. “Wow, you’re a natural. Wanna race?”

“You’re on.”

We position our trays so they are even and then get settled.

“On your mark, get set, go!” Evan yells, and then propels himself down the hill.

It’s harder to get started than I anticipated, without having someone give me a push. But I use my feet on either side of the tray to scoot forward, and then gravity and the slippery surface of the snow help. I fly down after him, the wind catching my laughter.

I land in a heap next to Evan and flop on my back, looking up at the blank sky. “That was so much fun.”

He rolls from where he settled and hovers over me. He drops a kiss to my lips, lightning fast. Is it for the benefit of the other people watching or for me? “Wanna do it again?”

“Absolutely.”

“Aw, too bad we don’t have any hot chocolate packets,” Evan says as he takes off his wet socks and tosses them into our laundry hamper. “That always sounds good after sledding.”

“We could make it on the stovetop, if we have all the ingredients,” I tell him, wriggling into a pair of leggings. The bottom cuff of my sweatpants got snowy and now they’re making me cold.

“What?” Evan stops in the middle of taking off his t-shirt, and whoa. Holy moly abs. I’ve seen him shirtless before, but it takes my breath away every time. How is he even real? “That’s a thing?”

I laugh, then cross to the kitchen and open a cupboard. “Yeah, it is. Grab the milk, and we’re set.”

He finishes putting on his t-shirt—pity—and gets a half gallon of milk out of our tiny fridge. I pull cocoa powder, vanilla, chocolate chips, sugar, and salt out of the cabinet and line them all up on the counter next to the saucepan.

“Okay, we’re going to do dry ingredients first,” I explain, whisking together the sugar, salt, and cocoa powder while Evan nods. “Then we’ll add the milk. Can you get me a measuring cup?”

He complies, getting in my space and reaching over my head to get a glass cup down from the top shelf. I inhale, and god, how does he smell so good? He looks down at me, wrapping my fingers around the cup, and winks. My belly flips. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

And why shouldn’t I enjoy it a little? I push up on my tiptoes and brush my lips across his, then pull away before things get too exciting. Tormenting him is kinda fun.

I clear my throat. “Alright, I’ll whisk in the milk, let it warm up, and then we’ll be all set. Can you grab mugs?”

Adjusting his sweatpants, Evan finds us two coffee mugs—a Harrison hockey boosters one for him and a Hamilton one for me—and when everything has melted and reached the right consistency, I pour our drinks into the cups.