Spiral (Off the Ice Book 2)
Spiral: Chapter 20

CELIBATE. ELIAS WESTBROOK is celibate.

Oh.

My.

God.

After he dropped that bomb on me, I couldn’t breathe, let alone give any type of coherent response. So when he helped me off the counter and to my feet, I simply followed him back inside the venue.

The revelation has me slamming down drinks like a sailor coming off a monthlong expedition. I swear there’s a laugh track playing somewhere. There’s a part of me that blames Kian and Dylan for getting me started with that one disgusting shot, but I know the real reason. The alcohol was supposed to dim the sad swampy feeling in my stomach, but instead it makes me want to sulk. I don’t like to drink, and I don’t like to think about why. With parents that are addicts, it’s difficult to think of alcohol as separate from them. However, when every nerve ending in my body is begging for Elias, none of that comes to mind. So, the alcohol doesn’t sting as much as it would have otherwise. Especially when my fake boyfriend, who I’ve been having dirty dreams about while he sleeps next to me, just told me he’s celibate. Anyone would drink to that.

Just when I think I could find myself getting lost in Elias, that big bold Do Not Cross! sign comes between us like the cockblock it is.

His celibacy is a literal cockblock, but I have to respect his decision. He’s been nothing but respectful with me. Except in that tiny room where he handled me exactly like I wanted him to: rough and desperate.

I shouldn’t have touched you like that.

The words could easily wound anyone’s ego, especially when his lips were close enough to taste. But we have rules, and now I’m extra adamant about sticking to them because I’d be causing myself unnecessary disappointment if I strayed. No PDA, no sex, no getting attached. The last one is for my own benefit.

As I’m about to down another shot, someone snatches it from my hand. It’s Summer, who takes it instead, wiping her chin before beaming at me. “Now we’re even.”

“You were counting?”

“Nope.” She hiccups. “But Eli was, and he said I should probably cut you off.”

My gaze slides to where Elias and Aiden are having a conversation, but I must look for too long because he catches me watching and those brown eyes make me feel sick.

Because I’m celibate.

I want to scream and grab his beautiful face and crush his lips to mine. But I’ve realized I’m the only one who’s been blurring the lines, and Elias sees them clearly for what they are. I’m not a romantic in the slightest, but lately, I can’t help the way my heart flutters when he presses a small kiss to my wrist or brushes my hair from my face like he hates that it obstructs his view.

Don’t get me started on how many meals he cooks for me. Whoever said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach is right on the money. Except in this scenario, Elias cooks and I eat. Instead of plaque from high cholesterol, the only thing clogging my heart is confusion.

“The team booked some rooms in the hotel nearby. Are you and Elias staying?”

“He’s allergic to me.” I snap my mouth shut as soon as I say it, but Summer laughs.

The alcohol is making me bitter.

“You’re one hell of an allergy to have, then, ’cause he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you all night.”

I snort. “Probably making sure I’m not telling a dirty joke to an executive.”

“Probably not.”

There’s something about Summer and that feeling of warmth I get when she’s near that makes me want to spill all my feelings and have her braid my hair or something.

She takes my hand in hers, face serious. “Look, I haven’t seen Eli with anyone as long as I’ve known him.” She glances to where he sits, before leaning in. “And from what I know, letting someone in is not his top priority. But with you, he’s different. I’ve never seen him so … relaxed.”

I shake my head. “We’ve both gotten pretty good at pretending.”

Summer sighs but doesn’t say anything else as she orders two margaritas.

“I thought you were here to cut me off?”

“I don’t always do as I’m told.” She winks, slides over my drink as soon as it arrives, and watches me with excitement when I drink the fruity thing for her sake.

“Wanna dance?” I ask her, and she holds out her hand. I take it, avoiding the burning gaze that follows me to the dance floor. Kian and Dylan easily find us in the crowd, pulling us into their circle as the music and the buzz from the alcohol make me feel weightless. When I spot a glimpse of Owen in the crowd, dread pools in my stomach. I duck to avoid him, but the universe must be on my side because Socket pulls him outside.

“Your boring boyfriend didn’t want to dance?” Kian asks, leaning down right by my ear so I can hear him.

I stand upright. “I didn’t ask him.”

He laughs and nods like he’s proud of me. Elias thinks I’m too much. I must be stewing in self-pity, because Kian takes my hand and twirls me right toward Dylan, who easily slips his hand into mine. His movements are fluid and relaxed, matching the tempo perfectly. Dylan Donovan can dance. I see it in the way his body is loose and swaying to the music like it’s his second nature. Just like how I am with ballet.

“Are you a dancer?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “Sometimes.”

Dylan’s cagey response makes my eyes narrow, but then he pulls me into him. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“Making your boyfriend realize he’s an idiot for not dancing with you.”

I glance over my shoulder, watching Elias, who sits at the table now, eyes zeroing in on both of us. It’s a heated look aimed right at Dylan, who appears totally unaffected. I ignore him too, because if he cared that much, he should be the one over here. Not the one rejecting me twice in a night.

“He doesn’t care.”

He gives me a look like he thinks I’m stupid. “Yeah, ’cause that’s definitely the look of a man who doesn’t care.” Dylan spins me and dips me in his arms, and I adjust to his tempo, laughing as he dances like a natural. Sometimes, my ass.

The heated glare on my back gets hotter. Elias has gotten on his feet, and Dylan lets me go immediately. By the time Elias reaches me, Dylan’s disappeared, and I’m standing there like a fish out of water.

“If you want to dance, ask me next time.”

I look down at our feet. White heels and pointy brown dress shoes. “I doubt there’ll be a next time,” I say, though my words are slurred. The alcohol is still thrumming in my bloodstream. Summer really should have cut me off.

His expression flattens, and I immediately feel bad. I’m not a mean person, but the lingering hurt from his earlier words make the darkness lurking behind my ribs visible. I want to apologize, but I can’t. Not when it’s true.

“Ready to go?”

Summer bumps into Elias, holding up a strict finger. “Stop being a killjoy. We’re still dancing.” She pulls me into her, and I bite back a laugh. Elias looks to Aiden, who just shrugs.