Icing on the Cake (The Barracudas #1)

Chapter 10

10

ELLIOT

“ U gh.” Sarah slams a stack of books down on the circulation desk and pulls up a chair beside me. “I hate the rain.”

“Really? I love it.” A smile forms on my face as I listen to the sounds of the rain hitting the windows and thunder booming off in the distance. It never fails to make me happy. It reminds me of back home, curled up on the living room couch with a good book and a plate of my mom’s freshly baked cookies as a storm rages.

Sarah stares at me, bewildered. “You’re a strange man, Elliot.”

I shrug. I’ve been called worse things.

The library doors burst open, and a rowdy group of students rush in, looking like a pack of drenched rats. Their wet shoes squeak against the polished floors, leaving a trail of puddles in their wake. I cringe as one of the guys, a tall, muscular dude with a mop of curly black hair, shakes his head like a dog. Water droplets fly through the air and land on a stack of books on display. I imagine the books crying out in horror and distress.

Another guy, this one with a backward baseball cap and a cocky swagger, laughs and slaps his friend on the back. “Nice one, bro! You got me good. ”

They make their way deeper into the library and leave a path of destruction in their wake.

I want to look away, but I can’t. My heart aches for the poor, defenseless books that are being subjected to such callous treatment. They deserve better than this.

A flash of lightning illuminates the dark sky outside, and a boom of thunder sounds at the same time that my phone buzzes.

Jackson

Bro! Emergency!

I sigh. The last “emergency” Jackson had was when we went to the movies a few weeks ago, and he got stuck in a stall with no toilet paper. Will this one be more dire?

There’s only one way to find out. I swipe open the message and respond.

Me

What now?

Jackson

Stuck at the gym without an umbrella :(

Me

How is this my problem?

Jackson

You love me?

Me

Debatable.

Jackson

Elliot! Please! I’m gonna drown!

I let him sweat it out for a few minutes before replying.

Me

I’ll see if Sarah has a spare.

Jackson

You’re the best!

I love Jackson—as much as one guy can platonically love another. But walking across campus to the gym in this weather? He better kiss the ground I walk on for the rest of our lives.

“Jackson needs an umbrella,” I tell Sarah. “He’s stuck at the gym.”

She snorts. “Of course he is.”

“Do you have a spare?”

“Maybe.”

As Sarah digs through her oversized tote bag, a guy in a hockey jersey walks up to the circulation desk. He’s tall and muscular, with wavy blond hair that says he just rolled out of bed. “Do you know the Wi-Fi password?”

“It’s ‘GreatGatsby123,’ all one word.”

“Thanks, man.” He flashes a grin and saunters off toward the study tables.

I watch him walk away, wondering why he doesn’t make my heart pitter-patter the way another blond-haired boy does. He’s as conventionally attractive, and his ass is definitely biteable. But I feel nothing.

Sarah mutters under her breath, pulling my attention away from the guy who’s now slapping hands with those reckless bastards from earlier.

She slams a microbiology textbook onto the desk, tosses a half-eaten granola bar into the trash can, and becomes overly excited when she pulls out a tangled mess of earbuds.

“I thought I’d lost these forever!”

A compact mirror, a pack of gum, and a handful of pens join the growing pile of shit on the circulation desk.

“Do you have a kitchen sink in there too?” I raise an eyebrow.

Sarah flips me the bird as she continues her excavation. “Very funny.”

I blink in disbelief when she presents me with a small potted cactus with a pink bow tied around its terracotta pot. How the hell did she fit that in there? And more importantly, why is she carrying around a cactus?

As if reading my mind, she mutters, “It’s for a project.”

“Sure it is.”

The bag yields a few more treasures: a pack of highlighters, a copy of Pride and Prejudice , and an opened bag of trail mix.

Finally, Sarah emerges victorious with a spare umbrella. But it’s not just any umbrella. It’s a hot pink monstrosity with frilly edges and a glittery handle. It’s something a five-year-old princess would carry.

I can’t contain the laughter that bubbles up in my throat. The thought of Jackson holding this umbrella is too much. “Oh, man. Jackson is going to hate this.”

Sarah grins mischievously. “Serves him right for not being prepared.”

I take the umbrella from her and admire its garishness. The neon pink is exceptionally bright, and it hurts to stare directly at it. “I can’t wait to see his face when I give this to him.”

“Take a picture for me,” Sarah says, still grinning.

“Oh, I will.” I’m already planning on making it my phone background for the next month or ten.

Since my shift began a few hours ago, the rain has turned torrential. Trekking across campus in this weather is not appealing, but the promise of seeing Jackson’s reaction to the umbrella is too good to pass up.

I stand up and grab my plain black umbrella from under the desk. “Wish me luck.”

What was once a vibrant campus is now a dreary, waterlogged landscape. Colorful autumn leaves lay plastered to the sidewalk, and the red brick buildings loom ominously through the sheets of rain. The wind whips at my face as rain pelts against my umbrella.

I huddle under my jacket and pick up my pace with Sarah’s ridiculous pink umbrella clutched tightly in my other hand. The thing is gaudy, and I’m half-tempted to hide it under my jacket, but there’s no way it would fit.

I come upon a pothole in the sidewalk filled with rainwater and regret the decision to jump over rather than run around when I misjudge and end up soaking my shoes. Water swishes around my toes, and the chill instantly seeps into my bones.

As if my luck can’t get any worse, I pass The Brew and nearly get mowed down by a group of guys running out with books held over their heads.

I stumble backward, my arms flailing like a flightless bird as I try to regain my balance. The pink umbrella goes flying out of my hand and skitters across the wet sidewalk. A strong hand grabs my arm at the last second, steadying me.

“Whoa, sorry about that!” The guy’s voice is deep and smooth. He looks at me with concern in his forest-green eyes. “You okay?”

I nod, momentarily speechless. He’s tall, with broad shoulders that strain against his black leather jacket. Red hair peeks out from under a backward baseball cap, and a few drops of rain cling to his stubble-covered jaw.

He belongs on the cover of a magazine, not on a dreary college campus in the middle of a torrential downpour.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.”

He flashes a grin, revealing a row of perfect white teeth. “No problem. Gotta watch out for each other in this weather, right?”

“Right.” I return his smile. His cheerful demeanor is infectious, even in the gloom of the storm.

He picks up the bright pink monstrosity and raises an eyebrow. “Nice umbrella.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks as I take it from him. “It’s not mine. It’s for a friend. ”

“Sure it is.” He winks, and my stomach does a little flip. “Well, I better get going. Don’t want to keep you from your friend.”

“Yeah, he’s probably drowning as we speak.” The words come out before I can stop them, and I mentally facepalm. Way to sound like a total dork, Elliot.

But the guy finds it funny. “Sounds like he needs that umbrella more than you do.”

“Definitely.” I chuckle, surprised at how at ease I feel talking to this stranger.

“Stay dry out there.” He gives a little salute before jogging off to catch up with his friends.

I watch him go, admiring the way his jeans hug his ass. It’s a nice ass, but it doesn’t hold a candle to Gerard’s.

Gerard’s ass is the kind of ass that makes grown men weep and women throw their panties at him. Not that I’ve ever seen anyone actually do that, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s happened at least once in his life.

Shaking my head, I continue on my way to the gym. The brief encounter with the friendly stranger has lifted my spirits, but my shivering body quickly brings me back to reality.

Incredibly, the farther I travel, the fiercer the storm becomes. The wind howls, and the trees sway violently, their branches creaking and groaning under the onslaught. A gust of wind catches my umbrella and nearly rips it out of my hand. I tighten my grip and forge ahead.

As I sidestep another puddle, I run into a solid wall of muscle and nearly fall flat on my ass again. This time, my glasses fly off my face, but a large hand catches them before they hit the ground.

“Oh, crap! Are you okay?” a familiar voice asks.

I look up and find myself staring into the bluest eyes. Because of course. Why wouldn’t I walk into Gerard Gunnarson?

His blond hair, darkened by the rain, is plastered to his forehead, and his shirt clings to his muscular chest.

“I’m fine.” I gesture for my glasses, and he holds them out delicately. I half expect them to have been crushed in his massive paw, but they remain intact. I put them on in time to see him flash a disarming grin that makes even aliens weak in the knees.

“Sorry for running into you.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I was distracted.”

“By what? The weather?” The sarcasm slips out before I can stop it.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Crazy, right? One day, it can be sunny as can be; the next, it’s a monsoon of epic proportions! Pretty soon, we’re gonna need to build an ark and gather up all the animals.”

How is this guy always cheerful?

“What are you doing out here?” He checks the time on his phone. “Shouldn’t you be at the library?”

I’m surprised he remembers that detail about me. After the meet and greet in the locker room, I figured he’d go back to not knowing who I was. Yes, he said he hoped to see me around campus again, but he was being polite…right? It’s what anyone would say. “I’m running an errand.”

Gerard suddenly notices the pink umbrella in my hand and raises an eyebrow. “Oh! Cool umbrella!”

“It’s not mine.”

He chuckles, clearly not believing me despite the fact I’m holding a black umbrella over my head.

I go to step around him, but he stops me with a hand on my shoulder. I fight the urge not to shudder.

“I’m glad we ran into each other.” Gerard’s hand is warm and heavy on my shoulder, and the heat radiates through my drenched jacket. “Did you enjoy your behind-the-scenes peek of Infinity Arena?”

I consider my words carefully. “It was…interesting.”

Gerard nods. “I’m glad you came—to the game. It meant a lot to me.”

I blink, surprised by his sincerity and the fact that he doesn’t notice or care that he’s getting more and more soaked by standing here talking to me. “You’re getting drenched. ”

Gerard glances down at his wet body and shrugs. “A little rain never hurt anyone.”

I shake my head in disbelief. How is he this carefree? “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“Nah, I’m invincible.” He flexes his bicep, making the muscles in his upper body ripple. “Hockey players don’t get sick.”

“Must be nice.” A hint of wistfulness creeps into my voice.

Gerard tilts his head, curious. “What do you mean?”

I bite my lip as I struggle to voice my thoughts. How do I explain to him the constant anxiety that hums beneath my skin? The fear of saying or doing the wrong thing? How do I make him understand the weight of expectations that press down on me?

“Being so…untroubled. You never care what people think or if you’re doing the right thing. You have this unflinching confidence that everything will be okay.”

Gerard’s expression softens, and his usual bravado slips away. “It’s not always as easy as it looks. I’ve had to work hard to build up my confidence over the years.”

“Really?” I can’t hide the surprise in my voice. “But you’re always so sure of yourself.”

Gerard chuckles, but there’s a hint of self-deprecation in it. “Trust me, I have plenty of moments of doubt. I’m not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, you know?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

He nods, running a hand through his wet hair. “School has never been my strong suit. I struggle with a lot of the concepts, and it takes me longer to grasp things than it does for most people.”

“But you’re a star hockey player,” I point out. “That has to count for something.”

Gerard shrugs. “It does, but it’s not everything. I’ve had to work my butt off to get to where I am today—both on and off the ice. And even now, I still have moments where I wonder if I’m good enough.”

I nod slowly, starting to understand. “How do you deal with it, then? The self-doubt, I mean.”

“I try to focus on the things I’m good at, like hockey. When I’m on the ice, everything else fades away. It’s just me, my teammates, and the puck. In those moments, I am invincible.”

“And when you’re not playing hockey? How do you cope then?”

Gerard takes a deep breath. “I dunno. I’m constantly trying to keep my head above water.”

“I can relate to that.”

“But I’ve learned it’s okay to ask for help from my teammates, coaches, or even a friend.” Gerard continues. “I don’t have to do everything on my own.”

“That’s a good mindset to have.” I must say, I’m impressed by his self-awareness.

“It took me a long time to get there,” he admits. “I used to think that asking for help was a sign of weakness. That I had to be strong all the time, no matter what. But that’s not realistic. Everyone needs support sometimes.”

I nod, feeling a newfound respect for the gentle giant. It’s easy to assume that Gerard has it all together, but the reality is far more complex.

“How did you end up building your confidence? Was it a matter of time and experience?”

Gerard considers the question for a moment. “Yes and no. It was a conscious effort on my part. I stopped comparing myself to others. Stopped thinking that because someone else is better at something, I must be a failure.”

“That makes sense.”

“I also started practicing self-compassion. Instead of beating myself up over every little mistake, I’ve tried treating myself with kindness and understanding. If I have a bad game or bomb a test, I remind myself that having off days isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

I nod. “I could probably stand to work on that myself. ”

“It’s a process.” Gerard gives me an encouraging smile. “But it’s worth it. When you treat yourself with compassion, it’s amazing how much your confidence and well-being improve.”

I let his words sink in. It’s strange to think that a guy I assumed was all brawn and no brains is actually quite wise and introspective.

Gerard shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “Anyway, enough about me. What errand are you running in this lovely weather?”

I grimace, remembering my original mission. “I’m running an errand for Jackson. He’s stuck at the gym without an umbrella. So, I’m bringing him one.”

“Ah, that explains the pink umbrella, then.”

“It’s Sarah’s. She didn’t have anything more…masculine on hand.”

“Hey, real men wear pink,” Gerard declares with a grin while gesturing down at his feet, which are clad in another pair of pink socks. I wonder if they’re the same ones as that day in the library or if he has a collection of them. “But seriously, it’s nice of you to trek across campus in bad weather for a friend.”

“Jackson would do the same for me.”

Gerard’s nose scrunches as he smiles. “Mind if I walk with you?”

Not at all. “Oh, uh, sure. I mean, if you want to.”

“I do.” His voice is warm and sincere. “Besides, it’s not every day I get to rescue a damsel in distress.”

I snort. “I’m hardly a damsel.”

“Fine, a dude in distress then.” Gerard falls into step beside me and plucks my umbrella from my grip. He holds it high above my head, effectively shielding me from the worst of the downpour.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m already soaked.”

“So am I,” Gerard points out with another grin. “But, at least this way, we won’t get any wetter.”

No sooner do I walk into the foyer of the athletic complex is Jackson in my face, his hands patting my body for signs of injury. “What took you so long? I was about to call campus police.”

I shrug out of his grasp and hold up the hot pink umbrella. “I ran into Gerard on the way over.”

Jackson’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “ Gerard? As in Gerard Gunnarson, the hockey player? ”

“No, the other Gerard we know,” I deadpan.

Jackson ignores my sarcasm, too caught up in his excitement. He bounces on the balls of his feet like an overeager puppy. “Dude, you have to tell me everything! What did you guys talk about?”

“We talked about the weather and…stuff. Nothing too exciting.”

But even as the words leave my mouth, I know that’s not entirely true. While our conversation may have started mundane, it quickly delved into more personal territory. I can still hear the vulnerability in Gerard’s voice as he admitted his struggles with confidence and academics.

It’s a side of him I never expected to see, and it’s left me feeling…well, I’m not quite sure how to describe it. Intrigued, maybe? More aware that there’s more to Gerard than meets the eye?

Jackson, however, is too distracted by the umbrella in my hand to press for more details.

“What in the name of all that is holy is that thing?” His face is a mix of horror and fascination.

I hold it out to him with a smirk. “It’s your umbrella, courtesy of Sarah.”

Jackson takes it gingerly, afraid that it might bite him. He holds it at arm’s length and stares at me in disbelief. “ It’s so…pink.”

“Real men wear pink.” I echo Gerard’s earlier words with a grin.

Jackson groans and defiantly shakes his head. “I can’t be seen with this, Elliot. My reputation will be ruined.”

“What reputation?” I tease. “The one where you’re known for getting stuck in the rain without an umbrella?”

He glares at me. “You’re the worst best friend ever.”

“I know.”

Jackson sighs heavily, and his broad shoulders slump in defeat. “I guess beggars can’t be choosers, huh?”

“Nope.” I’m enjoying his discomfort way too much. “It’s either this or get drenched going back to your dorm.”

Jackson grumbles something unintelligible under his breath before reluctantly twirling the umbrella like a baton. The frilly edges and sparkly handle are comically out of place in his large, callused hands.

“Come on.” He jerks his head toward the exit. “Let’s get this over with.”

I fall into step beside him as we venture out into the raging storm. The wind whips at the umbrella, and Jackson has to grip the handle with both hands to keep it from flying away.

He links his arm through mine as we navigate the slippery sidewalks and overflowing gutters. It’s a kind gesture, and yet…I can’t help but compare this moment to my earlier walk with Gerard.

With Jackson, there’s a sense of brotherly affection. We joke and banter, trading sarcastic quips as we always do.

But with Gerard, it was different. There was a charge in the air that had my skin tingling and my heart racing. When he held the umbrella over my head to shield me from the worst of the downpour, I felt…safe. Protected. As if nothing could touch me as long as I was with him. It’s a frightening realization. One that has my stomach twisting into anxious knots.

What does it mean? And, more importantly, what am I going to do about it?