All Chapters of Break The Ice: Chapter 61 - Chapter 66

After that confession, we remained in my room. I was now shirtless, still on the bed, while Victoria lounged on my couch and Mel sat beside her, holding her arm down. Why? "You did what?!" She screeched, and when I said nothing, she lunged for me, fingers stretched out, scrambling to reach me as Mel held her back. "Let me fucking be!" I made no move, not even to throw her out of the room, because at that moment, I couldn't find the will to stare her down. Now she glared at me, opened her mouth to say something, then shut it, narrowing her gaze at the wall. So much for telling her, huh? Nothing had changed except maybe her rage and the silence that filled the room. "You're despicable." Mel broke the silence with a groan, leaving a still simmering Victoria. She sat beside me, space hoarding as her knees were wide open. "But unlike my mistress, I'm here to help." A mock smirk appeared at the corner of my lips. I'd never get used to her calling the pest that. She caught the grin, th

JADE'The number you're trying to call is switched off, please try again later...'I turned to my side on the bed, the covers up to my chin, staring at the blank screen of my phone.Another weekend, and once again, Myles wasn’t picking up. Which meant one thing—Tristan.I had given up trying to understand why Tristan got to him like that. Ever since the project day, when Tristan sent George to the hospital for making a move on Myles, things had been a mess.Did Myles hate him or not? Should I wish Tristan death or not? The thoughts clawed at my head so badly it was hard to concentrate. It didn’t help that Myles had been scarce ever since the coach made it his mission to ensure Myles was more than ready.Why did Tristan leave the team? Why let Myles stand in his place? So many questions swirled in my head, and not even that fucking Eros wanted to help.Urgh.I’d cornered him once, pushing a black parcel into his locker. He turned, his eyes falling on me with my arms akimbo. He shut the

**TRISTAN**After the brawl in my house days ago, I drove back to the condo, three pairs of eyes digging into my face, waiting for me to spill. I walked past them, striding to my room and turning in the key.In the darkness, I lay, watching the wall, my phone beside me, waiting for the call, yearning for the ring. His rage etched on his face replayed in my head. For an addict desperate for a taste of him, I really continued to fumble things up.He was going to call. He had to call.Two days later, he did. "Can you pick me up?"He didn’t need to ask twice. I just didn’t expect to see him there—in the parking lot of a hidden bar. Stopping right in front of him, Myles dove into the front seat, eyes pinned out of the windshield, hands still stuck in his pockets.Without another word, I drove down the road to the condo, waiting for his protest, but it never came. I kept the silence, my thoughts filling with questions I needed to ask.But it was as though Myles was hell-bent on making me su