Chapter 11 #2
Because attraction is one thing. Attraction is manageable.
I’m a twenty-one-year-old woman, not a nun.
Obviously I have eyes. Obviously I noticed the sweat running down his chest tonight while he looked at me like he was trying very hard not to kiss me.
Obviously I watched him beat off knowing both of us wanted my hand doing the work.
That’s not the problem. The problem is that I like him.
I like his sarcasm. I like the way he pretends to be emotionally unavailable while simultaneously caring way too much about everyone around him.
I like how protective he is of the Fury guys without making a show of it.
I like how his face softens around children and old people and apparently me, which feels significant considering most of campus only ever sees the cocky hockey version of him.
And goodness, I really like the way he looks at me. Which is humiliating because I know better than this. Boys are fun until they aren’t.
I swore a long time ago I would never tie my emotional stability to another man.
Especially a hockey player.
And yet somehow Cade Mercer has been slowly bulldozing every boundary I built around that promise without even trying. Tonight he admitted he’s never experienced a broken heart before.
That sentence has genuinely haunted me ever since.
Because suddenly so much about him makes sense now. The emotional compartmentalization. The control issues. The way he buries everything underneath discipline and routine and hockey because those are the only things he fully understands.
And maybe that’s why I keep feeling this weird ache in my chest around him lately.
I think Cade feels things very deeply. I just don’t think anybody ever taught him what to do with those feelings once they existed. So instead he controls them. Restrains them. Locks them down so tightly they only slip through in tiny moments before he pulls himself back together again.
Like tonight and the way his breathing changed when he touched my wrist. Like the way his eyes kept dropping to my mouth before he physically stepped away from me like distance was the only thing keeping him under control.
The chemistry between us is becoming impossible to ignore now. It’s in everything. Every glance. Every joke. Every accidental touch. Every moment where the room suddenly feels too quiet because both of us are clearly thinking the same thing and trying very hard not to act on it.
At the rate things are going, one of us is eventually going to slip.
And honestly?
I’m starting to worry it might be me.
I closed the laptop then showered quickly in cold water as my brain replayed every second in his closet on repeat. I was in so deep and I had no excuse because I kept looking back as Cade put it.
Especially because I knew better than this.
I curled beneath my blankets still wearing one of Cade’s hoodies while rain tapped softly against my windows and cold air drifted through the cracked opening beside my bed when my phone buzzed.
CADE: I’ll pick you up at 11 tomorrow
I smiled instantly despite myself.
BLISS: Come at 10 instead
CADE: You didn’t text me when you got home
I ignored that, not because I meant to disregard it—but because my brain has been in over drive for the last hour or so.
ME: I need time to prep you for tomorrow’s BBQ
CADE: that sounds mildly threatening
ME: You have no idea
The stupid butterflies hit immediately.
That was the problem with texting someone you were wildly attracted to.
Everything became loaded. Every pause. Every typing bubble.
Every stupid little sentence suddenly felt dangerous because there was no voice or expression to soften anything.
Just words sitting there while your brain filled in the blanks however it wanted.
And goodness, my brain was doing the absolute most tonight when it came to Cade Mercer.
The conversation kept going after that.
CADE: what should I wear tomorrow? Is there a color for teams or what
ME: Normal clothes
CADE: that means nothing to me, Pip
ME: Jeans. T-shirt. It’s warm during the day but cold at night so bring a jacket
CADE: should I bring a hoodie for you too since you steal mine constantly or just keep stealing the ones with my scent on them
My stomach tightened instantly as heat crept onto my face. Because there was something weirdly intimate about wearing his clothes. About his cologne lingering in the fabric. About falling asleep wrapped in something that smelled like him.
Dangerous territory Bliss.
ME: yes
ME: you should probably just start budgeting expanding your wardrobe at this point
CADE: already have actually
CADE: I’ve accepted that half my wardrobe belongs to you now
I physically pressed my lips together trying not to smile into my pillow like an idiot.
He wasn’t even trying hard. Nothing about Cade’s flirting felt rehearsed or overly polished. It just flowed naturally, like he genuinely enjoyed talking to me more than anybody else.
Which was deeply concerning for my mental health.
ME: good acceptance is the first stage of healing
CADE: is it healing if I like seeing you in my clothes?
Okay, this is what fucks me up. That subtle dangerous line he kept stepping over without making it feel dirty or overly obvious.
Cade somehow managed to flirt in ways that felt intimate instead of rehearsed, and honestly that was probably why every single text hit me ten times harder than it should have.
The way we were both dancing around the ‘closet incident’ still had me on edge though.
Then again, nothing he said sounded copied and pasted from some hockey-boy playbook. He didn’t flirt like someone trying to collect girls. He flirted like someone paying attention specifically to me, and goodness, that distinction was becoming a serious problem for my emotional stability.
Because “I like seeing you in my clothes” should not have affected me the way it did.
And yet suddenly all I could picture was oversized black KFU shirts hanging off one shoulder while Cade’s body stretch before me as he worked one out.
The bear is legit walking away from me because even it knows I’m an idiot.
ME: depends, are we talking hoodies or are you planning on donating your entire closet to the cause
CADE: you can wear ANYTHING in my closet, Pip
My entire body went warm reading it and seeing it in my mind all over again, the implication there absolutely did not feel accidental.
ME: really? Because oversized T-shirts are kind of my thing
The silence after sending that bullshit response was killing me. I just laid there staring at my ceiling fan in crisis.
‘Why the hell would you send that you absolute rookie. He is baiting you’
Then finally—
CADE: that’s very interesting information
Good grief.
I rolled onto my stomach hugging my pillow while rereading it three separate times because apparently humiliation wasn’t enough anymore. Now I also needed emotional self-destruction before midnight.
Then my phone buzzed again.
CADE: let’s play twenty questions
My stomach flipped immediately.
ME: oh, this feels dangerous already
CADE: probably
CADE: I ask first then you can
ME: okay… this could be fun I’ll bite
ME: what’s your question
There’d been a short pause after that. Long enough to make anticipation start curling low in my stomach before the typing bubble appeared again.
CADE: ideal type of kiss-hard closed mouth peck or open mouth and playful?
I actually freeze staring at my phone. Because excuse me? That absolutely did not feel like safe territory anymore. And somehow instead of running away like a sane woman with survival instincts, I feel excitement bloom hot through my chest instead.
I answer honestly because idiot behavior just manifests on it’s own at this point.
ME: neither. passionate open mouth without tongue at first, the kind of kiss that slowly unravels you because it isn’t rushed but gets deeper with tongue
ME: not aggressive. intimate. A kiss that speaks volumes to how desired you are. a kiss that says a lot without words I guess
The typing bubble appeared immediately.
Stopped.
Started again.
Which somehow made my pulse kick even harder because Cade was actually thinking about his response.
CADE: shit Pip
CADE: I felt that
CADE: like LITERALLY felt that, know what I mean?
I burry my face into my pillow squealing so hard I nearly suffocate myself. Because what exactly was I supposed to say? Are you beating off in your closet again?
ME: lol
I cringe and type another message fast so he forgets I LOL’d him.
ME: okay same question to you then
CADE: mine’s probably similar honestly
CADE: except I think the first kiss should feel a little out of control too
My stomach tightens instantly.
CADE: like you’re trying to be careful but you both want it too much for careful to fully happen
Holy shit. I sit up straighter in bed and reread it over and over because suddenly the flirting felt different. Like both of us know exactly what we are really talking about now.
ME: that was suspiciously specific Cross Check
CADE: I’m manifesting
ME: you’re trouble
CADE: that too probably
The butterflies were honestly getting ridiculous at this point and I kick my feet against my mattress like an actual fourteen-year-old while trying very hard to remember why I am resisting him.
I need to tell my vagina that he is a hard no.
CADE: your turn
ME: okay
ME: favorite place to kiss someone?
The typing bubble appeared almost instantly this time.
CADE: neck
My breath caught immediately.
CADE: right below the ear specifically especially if YOU react to it
My entire body went hot so fast it is medically concerning. Because I can feel that text directed at me.
ME: wow you answered that fast. And ME, I feel special.
CADE: because I knew the answer
CADE: you specifically Pip.
Good grief.