Aaron Crawford wasn’t the kind of guy who lost his cool. He was the self-proclaimed dad of his friend group, the quiet leader, the one people looked to. Oldest sibling, too—he’d had to man up at ten when his father bailed.

But none of that was helping him right now.

As a college hockey player, he was used to fights and parties. Tonight’s was a mix of both—his team and their biggest rivals, thrown together under the flimsy excuse of "cooling off" after last week’s game had ended in a full-blown brawl. Supposedly, it was about making peace. Aaron wasn’t feeling very fucking peaceful. Not when she was sitting way too close to some guy from the other team, giggling at whatever bullshit he was saying like he was the funniest bastard alive.

And Aaron knew exactly what she was doing. Payback. Punishment. He’d said they weren’t serious, and she was making damn sure he regretted it.

His grip tightened around his beer when she reached out and brushed her fingers over Levinson’s thigh, dusting off some imaginary lint.

And fine. If she wanted to play, he could play.

He pushed off the wall, beer forgotten on the nearest surface, and wove his way through the crowd. His teammates barely noticed—too busy shotgunning drinks and shit-talking last week’s game—but she did. Her gaze flickered to him for half a second, just long enough to clock his approach, before she turned back to Levinson like she wasn’t begging for a reaction.

Too bad. She was getting one.

The second Levinson got up to do something, —he couldn't care less — Aaron moved like a hunter to get to her in the little corner she was now standing.