Numbness coats my skin as drops of burning ice-cold water slides down my leg and soaks the towel underneath it. The pounding pain in my knee is slowly subsiding thanks to the ice tightly wrapped around it with saran wrap. The jabs and biting ice have me shifting every so often to alleviate the discomfort. It's bitterly cold and uncomfortable, but doing the job.

I hate morning dryland training.

It's the worst, especially now that I practically have a bum knee. I've been cleared to start practicing with the team again, but I think I may have overdone it to prove my worth to Coach Andrews. While everyone else was weightlifting coach wanted me to get back to the basics. Hence dryland training. He wants to get my agility, balance, and coordination back to where they had been.

I've never hated deceleration suicides, broad jumps, lateral bounds, and sprint variations more than I do right now. But it's not just because of the pain or the need to get back on the ice, it's the quietness that surrounds me as I lay on the table. My headphones are shoved into my ears but I haven't pressed the play button yet on Joe Bonamassa.

My mind is filled with her.

Those lips.

Her body.

My hands loved latching onto those beautiful curves she hides so well in her baggy sweaters and dresses. And I want her to keep hiding them. I want to be the only one who knows about those soft dips and plush flesh. The only one who has traced them with his hands.

She's like my own personal beanie baby and I want her little tag to say, property of Tariq Araneo.

I've never felt more like a behemoth.

But I want to be her behemoth.

I was an idiot for thinking a kiss wouldn't change anything. Heck, I should've known by the way I was so obsessed with those lips, wanting to seal them to mine.

I loved every second of it too.

The taste of her skin, her smell, God! She doesn't wear perfume, but she always smells like she's been cooking something delicious in the kitchen, which she had been that day.

There's not s second that I haven't thought about it, even in the depths of deceleration 3-6-9 suicide hell. She is filling every crevice in my mind and half the time I don't even realize I'm thinking about her.

My quirky, weird best friend.

With her equally quirky, tasty lips.

Crap.

This isn't good.

I'm in uncharted territory here.

Groaning, I hit the play button and listen to my version of Blue's, Celion Dion. The drums and electric bluesy guitar invade my ears and I sit up, beginning to unwrap my knee and put the brace back on.

What I feel for Blue is different than any woman who came before her. Even Cass, speaking of. My ex comes walking into the training room, looking as lethally beautiful as always. Dark hair in a slicked back, silky ponytail. Green catlike eyes done up to a smokey perfection, and yet... nothing.

No spark, no tightening.

Nada.

But the image of big blue eyes and red pouty lips makes my pulse race and every muscle in my body respond with caveman-like possession.

You don't deserve her.

Remember that.

Cass sees me and heads my way and I breathe out a long sigh at what is about to come, popping my headphones out.

"Word around campus is you have a new small, fluffy girlfriend." Cass is in her work clothes. Khakis and a black polo shirt with the team's logo on it. She had snatched up a job here as the nutritionist for the team after she graduated. She's ridiculously good at her job and had interned under our previous one. It's how she and I met.

"You heard right," I state as I finish putting on my brace. "Her name's Elodie."

Cass lifts a brow. "Is this because of what happened at the party?"

I roll my eyes. "Cass, it was one kiss and a mistake. You're seeing someone else and so am I. That's that."

She huffs, her nude lips pursing a little as she hikes up her bag. "Don't use her just because you're trying to get back at me."

I laugh and loud, causing some of the guys who stayed after practice to glance over. "I'm not trying to get back at you."

"Don't lie to me, Tariq. I messed up and kissed you. It met nothing. I have a boyfriend--"

"Yeah, remind me who he is again?" I ask with a slight edge to my voice. "Oh, right, the guy who's responsible for my knee injury."

Cass reddens. "You were partly to blame for it and you know it. He won't be on the ice this year since he graduated. Can't you be happy for me?"

"I am happy for you, Cass. We're over. I'm with someone else and she's great. Really. So can you be happy for me and we get past this?" I get off the table and head toward the locker room, but Cass is swift to follow and stops me from going in.

She studies me with those intense green eyes. "Why her and not me?"

"What?" I tense.

"Why her and not me?" she asks again. "You broke up with me, out of the blue. Darted off to God knows where without an explanation, then you're back throwing a party and didn't even invite me."

"Because we were over." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I was going through a lot and I had to get myself help, you know that."

Her eyes start to water. "You pushed me away. I wanted to be there for you, to help you."

"What do you want from me, Cass? You ask me to be happy for you and I am. You say you are happy with your boyfriend. Great! We've both moved on, so what is this about?"

"I haven't!" she practically screams out. "You were the guy I wanted to marry. You broke up with me, disappeared, and that's it. I want closure, Tariq, so I can move on."

I shove my fingers into my hair in frustration. "I liked you, Cass, a lot, but there was no future for us. I was a drunk and had to not only go to PT but also rehab."

"You're being too hard on yourself," she says, stepping closer to me, laying her french manicured fingers on my arm. "It's college. So what if we get a little wasted here or there."

My nostrils flare. "This is why I had to break up with you. My career is over. Gone. I can finish up college hockey but after that, no pro league is going to sign me. You're right when you said I was partly to blame. I was intoxicated, ran my mouth, a slob on the ice, and I let my teammates down. All because I couldn't--" I take a deep breath and refuse to go there. I've dealt with it now and have moved on. "You didn't take it seriously. All you cared about was dressing up, going out to parties, and living it up. And that's fine, but I couldn't do that anymore and you couldn't respect that."

Cass jerks back, her ponytail swaying from the action. "It's not my fault you can't handle your booze. Maybe you should learn a little self-control."

"I wasn't saying it was your fault, but you didn't respect me enough to actually help. What you wanted was for me to cry on your shoulder and bare my soul to you. I was never going to do that. Not with you."

"But you have with her?" she asks sharply, tears falling from her eyes, ruining some of her makeup.

"Blue doesn't know everything. She doesn't push me and she's respectful when I do tell her stuff. You weren't. You cared more about dolling yourself up for pageants and having me on your shoulder to show off. And when I started cracking you wanted to fix me for yourself, not because you actually cared. Look, Cass, I'm a different guy now, there's no future for us and, honestly, I don't think there ever was. So, there. There's your closure."

She takes a deep breath and the next words out of her mouth out like venom. "Rory is better than you in every way. You were a waste of my time."

With that, she spins around and leaves, finally letting me go to the locker room in peace, but of course, peace isn't what I get.

"I always hated her," Rasheed says once I'm through the door.

"Why are you still here?" I ask, eyeing my brother as his crossed arms coil with tension.

"Coach wanted to talk." He pushes himself off the wall. "You did the right thing by breaking up with her. She's toxic."

I head with Rasheed following behind me. "She was a girl trying to enjoy her last year of college. Cass had a lot of stress put on her from all the pageants and stuff she had to do. She needed to let out that stress, loosen up, and live a little."

"Don't cut her any slack, man," Rasheed responds, opening his locker up heatedly. "You were in a bad place and she didn't care and wanted to do what she wanted to do. You needed help and--"

"Hey," I slap my brother's back and his eyes turn to me, burning with rage. "I know we haven't always been close, but you were there, mom and dad, the team, and Heather, that's all I needed. And you had the unfortunate luck to drive me to rehab."

Rasheed blows out a shaky breath. "All of us were grieving right along with you and being stupid about it. What happened to you was a bad wake-up call." My brother hits his locker and my eyes widen as he starts wiping his face roughly to get rid of the tears he doesn't want me to see. "We all needed to limit ourselves and get our heads screwed on right. I stopped drinking the night I took you to rehab. I couldn't stomach another drop."

I had no idea.

I pull my brother into a hug, which is something we haven't done since we were probably kids. "Thank you... for everything Rash."

He pats my back. "I'm here whenever you need me."

"Good," I say as I let him go, then squeeze his shoulder. "But if you ever interrupt me and Blue again I seriously will castrate you."

He laughs. "Now, Special Agent Mitchel, I like."

"Yeah me too," I state distractedly.

Maybe a little too much.

Her glasses are on in an attempt to hide those baggy eyes, her usually fluffy blonde hair is ruffled, she's draped in a massive grey sweater over those jeans that I love because of the little hole in them, and her blue eyes are dull.

Looks like I'm not the only one who had a bad day.

Blue, looks tired. More than tired. Exhausted, as if even her bones are at their limits. She keeps taking deep, almost painful breaths, and I can't stay quiet anymore.

"Please tell me my kiss didn't do this to you, because if so, that's a huge blow to my ego."

I get a crack of a smile from her. "No."

I lean back, analyzing her as she taps her pencil on her notebook, her laptop open and ready for notes as we both sit alone in the classroom. "Will you stop looking at me?"

A grin grows on my face. "Never."

She glances back at me. "Am I going to be stared at all throughout class?"

"Depends. Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Her eyes blanket with a dull glaze. "I haven't been sleeping well. That's all."

It's not.

"I'm going to chalk it up to you dreaming about my lips on yours if you don't give me a little something, Blue."

She gives a small laugh but it dies instantly. "It's my dad."

I lean in. "Is he okay?"

A lone salty tear escapes her eye and she flicks it away, taking a deep breath. "There's a reason I lived in a box last year."

My brows furrow and my eyes drink her in with worry. "Why, babe?"

She looks over at me and the shiny glaze in her eyes hits me so hard that I lose my breath.

How did I not see it?

"My dad had a really bad stroke last year." She licks her lips and takes a harsh swallow so as to not to cry. "He passed away a couple of months ago."

Becca and her friends come walking in, laughing, and gossiping about crap I could care less about. Professor Brown comes right behind them and I'm stuck, not knowing if it's a good idea to say something. Blue turns away from me, pulling her sleeves up and covering her mouth and nose, sniffling.

Class begins and I sit there, chastising myself as I remember all the times Blue had looked lost when I mentioned her parents. I had a feeling something wasn't right but...

She's tapping her pencil against her notebook again and staring at her laptop screen where she hasn't typed a single note. Neither have I. The tapping is getting more anxious with every beat and it's right then, I know exactly what to do.

My fingers touch her elbow and the pencil halts its assault. I scoot my chair up and close to her, but I don't take my eyes off Professor B as she writes down notes on the whiteboard. My fingers slide in between hers, lacing them together and nothing in the world has felt more right. A heat circulates in the pit of my stomach when her fingers curl, solidifying our hold as the sleeve to her sweater grazes my palm. I've never held a girl's hand to just sit and hold it. Sure I've grabbed it to pull them over to me or to swing my arm around their shoulders, but I've never gone to a movie and pushed up the cup holder to do the deed.

Didn't care for it... until now.

Blue's hand is light and clammy in mine and it's as if her grief seeps into my veins from the pulsing in our hands. As if the clamminess are the tears she's refusing to shed. I tighten my grip and pull her hand close to my chest as I lean my elbow on the table, putting every ounce of comfort and security I can into my hold.

It works.

Because Blue gives a small, but happy smile that reaches her eyes and pushes out the dull. Professor B gives us a small break as she walks out needing to use the restroom. I lean in and whisper, "Did you drive today?"

Those gorgeous blue eyes peer at me from behind her glasses. "No, I walked. Needed the air."

Then I do something even crazier, I bring her hand up to my lips and kiss her knuckles, breathing my next words onto her hand, "I'll drive you back."

Her eyes search mine until a small, but noticeable scoff gets her attention. Becca glares at our linked hands and narrows her eyes at me. "Her? really?"

Blue's hand slackens in mine, but I don't let it go. Instead, I purposely turn it around in mine, palm up. My eyes zero in on Becca as I kiss the heel of Elodie's palm, feeling her heartbeat against my lips. My scruff tickles her skin and I'm rewarded by a shiver from her.

Becca's jaw tenses and she takes a deep angry breath, turning away but not before saying, "You're a has-been anyways."

Elodie's head snaps over to Becca and her eyes burn with a heated fire. I pull her hand into me, getting Blue's attention back to where it should be.

"She doesn't matter," I say.

Blue opens her mouth but Profesor B comes back in continuing her lecture. Anything about Esther's progression is in one ear out the other, because all I can focus on is my hand in Elodie's...

And what it's doing to me.

First update here and ready for you! This one took a lot out of me. I am going to jump right into the next and should have it up later tonight. My babies are both struggling and leaning on the other slowly but surely. It's taking time for them to open up to one another and there's still a lot to unpack for the both of them, but they will get there :)

And if you all have noticed I love the act of hand-holding. It gives me butterflies.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter if you did hit that star button for me :) Mountain Climbing by Joe Bonamassa inspired this chapter for Tariq and I may have listened to it a dozen times hahahaha!