Chapter 2: Practice Makes Hearts Ache

I’d never let myself think that far ahead. My heart pounded.

Honestly, I just wanted to fall in love.

It sounded cheesy, but it was true. I wanted the real thing, not just the stuff you see on a screen.

I didn’t even know if I liked college girls or older women.

I tried to picture myself with someone. All I got was a jumble of nervous energy and awkward daydreams.

I rubbed my chin and thought hard.

I hesitated, searching for the right words. My cheeks burned, and my mind went blank.

“He doesn’t want it.”

Carter cut in, cool as ever. “You’re not suited to watch what Noah’s sending you.”

His tone was final, like he’d already made up his mind for me.

“Why not?”

I tried to sound annoyed. But it came out more like a plea. I wanted to understand—why was Carter always stepping in?

As soon as I asked, Carter reached out, steadying my waist with his clean hand.

His touch was gentle. Almost protective. It sent a shiver up my spine.

His warm breath brushed against my ear.

I could feel every word, low and close. My heart did a weird little flip.

My knees went weak.

I had to grab the edge of the desk. I hoped Carter didn’t notice.

“Because you…”

He trailed off. His words hung in the air. I held my breath, waiting for him to finish.

Noah, not wanting to wait for us to argue, put on his headphones.

He shot us a look, then dove into his game. Fingers flying across the keyboard. The room filled with the sound of rapid-fire mouse clicks.

Carter reasoned, “Because if you want to date, you shouldn’t start by watching that. You should start by practicing your English.”

He sounded almost stern, like he was giving me advice I didn’t know I needed.

I lowered my head. “That’s true...”

My words came out small. Barely more than a whisper. I could feel the weight of every mistake I’d ever made pressing down on me.

No girl would want to date a country bumpkin who can’t even speak proper English.

The thought stung more than I wanted to admit.

My head drooped lower and lower. I stared at the floor.

I stared at the floor, fighting the urge to cry.

“But I don’t know how to practice.”

I looked up at Carter, hoping he’d have an answer.

Carter suddenly said, “I’ll teach you.”

He didn’t hesitate. Just looked me straight in the eye. There was something in his expression—determined, almost fierce.

I grabbed Carter’s arm, eyes shining. “Really?”

I couldn’t hide my relief.

Carter’s a communications major—aced the English proficiency test, top of his class.

He was basically a legend in our department.

He also hosted all kinds of campus events.

Every time there was a club fair or talent show, Carter was the one with the mic. Voice smooth as butter. I’d watched him work a crowd before, and it was like magic.

After every event, a bunch of girls would ask him for his tips.

I’d seen it happen—girls clustering around him, laughing at his jokes.

Carter’s articulate—he’s won a ton of debate awards.

His dorm shelf was lined with trophies and ribbons.

Having someone like him help me? It’s amazing.

It felt like winning the roommate lottery.

“Really.”

Carter stared at my throat and swallowed. “I’ll teach you. Every day. I’ll feed you ice cubes, just like before.”

His voice was softer now. Almost gentle. I felt a strange warmth settle in my chest.

“Will that really work?”

I wanted to believe him, but part of me was still skeptical.

“Yeah, it works. Makes your tongue flexible, helps your articulation.”

He sounded so sure, I couldn’t help but trust him.

Watching Carter walk into the bathroom to wash his hands, I felt more determined than ever.

I watched the door click shut. Felt a surge of determination. I was ready to work as hard as it took.

Carter’s really a great guy.

I smiled to myself, grateful for his help.

Who says he’s aloof and unapproachable?

People always said Carter was cold. But they didn’t see him like I did. They didn’t see the way he looked out for me, quietly, without asking for anything in return.

He’s actually got a big heart.

I thought about all the little things he’d done for me. Reminding me to eat, helping me with homework, now this. It made my chest ache in a good way.

He makes you feel warm inside.

Even on the coldest nights, with the wind rattling the windows, it felt like summer in our dorm room. I didn’t want to lose that.

Back then, I had no idea what he wanted me to bite down on wasn’t words at all.

I was so caught up in learning, I missed the bigger picture.

“Carter, Carter, hurry up and feed me—”

I was practically bouncing at the foot of his bed. Eager for our next practice session. My voice was high, almost childish in its excitement.

Early the next morning, I stood at the foot of Carter’s bed, mouth open.

The sun was barely up, painting stripes of gold across the faded carpet. I shivered, more from nerves than cold.

Carter’s throat bobbed.

He looked at me for a long moment. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Then he reached into the mini fridge.

He took an ice cube from the fridge, raised his hand, and brought it to my mouth.

His movements were slow. Almost careful. I watched the ice glisten between his fingers, waiting for the cold shock.

Suddenly, I thought of something. I pulled my head back, frowning a little. “How about you just give me the ice cube? I’ll eat it myself. You don’t have to feed me.”

I felt a little silly. But I couldn’t shake the feeling I was making things weird. I didn’t want Carter to think I was taking advantage.

Carter answered calmly, “I have to press your tongue.”

He said it like it was the most normal thing in the world.

He reached out again.

His hand hovered in the air, waiting.

I stepped back, blushing and whispering, “Maybe not.”

My voice was barely audible, but Carter heard me.

“No.”

Carter’s voice was colder than the ice cube. I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.

His tone brooked no argument.

I rushed to explain, “No, no, you don’t need to. Just tell me how to press, I’ll use my own finger.”

I was desperate to save face. Carter just shook his head.

“You won’t find the right spot.”

His confidence was infuriating. And comforting. All at once.

But your hand will get dirty. You’ll have to wash it forever.

I remembered how long he’d spent in the bathroom yesterday.

Yesterday, Carter spent half an hour in the bathroom, scrubbing his hands.

He was a stickler for cleanliness. Always carried hand sanitizer in his backpack. I teased him about it once, but he just shrugged.

He really likes to keep his hands clean.

He once told me he couldn’t focus if he felt dirty. I wondered if that was true, or if it was just an excuse.

“Just tell me the spot, I’ll find it after a few tries… mm.”

I tried to sound confident. Carter wasn’t having it.

His fingers were gentle. But insistent. I let him, too stunned to protest.

The ice cube spun around in my mouth, cold and slippery.

He guided it, rolling it over my tongue.

I tilted my head back. Carter looked serious.

His voice was low. Almost hypnotic. I did as he asked, cheeks burning.

A clatter came from the door.

The sound snapped me out of the moment.

Noah, back from his morning run, dropped his breakfast in shock.

His bagel bounced across the floor, leaving a trail of cream cheese.

“Dude, what are you two doing?”

His voice was a mix of disbelief and laughter.

“He… is teaching me articulation.”

My words came out garbled.

Noah stared in disbelief. “Are you sure he’s teaching articulation?”

He looked from me to Carter, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah... I want to retake the English proficiency test. Carter’s a communications major, really professional. He said all communications majors do oral exercises like this, right, Carter?”

I turned to Carter for backup.

“Yeah.”

Carter’s voice was steady. Gave nothing away. I relaxed a little, grateful for his support.

With Carter’s confirmation, I rolled the ice cube with my tongue, trying to look serious.

I tried to look focused, like this was all perfectly normal.

Noah suddenly howled, “Oh-ho!”

He grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief.

He rushed excitedly into the dorm, opening his mouth wide at Carter. “Carter, correct mine too! My last English test wasn’t good either.”

He leaned forward, mouth open, waiting.

Carter coldly refused. “No.”

He didn’t even blink.

Noah was confused. “Why do you only help Charlie practice, not me?”

He looked genuinely hurt, like he’d been left out.

I had my mouth open, doubts swirling in my head too.

I glanced at Carter, wondering the same thing.

Yeah, why only help me?

Was it because I was the worst speaker?

Is it because I sound more like a hick?

The thought stung, but I couldn’t shake it.

Carter replied unhurriedly, “Because Charlie pays me. I need the money.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, I almost believed him.

Oh right, I was too embarrassed to let Carter help me for free, so I agreed to Venmo him every time.

It made me feel better, like I wasn’t just taking advantage.

Noah anxiously pulled out his phone. “Then I’ll pay you too!”

He waved his phone in Carter’s face.

Carter withdrew his hand and turned to the bathroom. “I don’t need money.”

His voice was final, brooking no argument.

When Carter came out of the bathroom half an hour later, I stopped him, frowning.

I couldn’t help but ask.

“Because I don’t care about him.”

His answer was blunt. Almost cruel. I blinked, unsure what to say.

“Then why help me?”

My voice was soft. Barely more than a whisper. I needed to know.

Could it be…

The thought hung between us, unspoken.

Before I could finish the thought, Carter reached out, touching my Adam’s apple.

His fingers lingered, tracing the line of my throat.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

I tried to sound annoyed. But my voice shook.

“Your throat is long too.”

He said it like it was obvious.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

I repeated myself, hoping for a real answer.

Carter swallowed. “I mean, you have great potential.”

His voice was low. Almost shy. I stared at him, trying to read his expression.

I was completely lost. I frowned, pushing his hand away. “Potential?”

I didn’t get it.

“It means after I help you practice, your articulation will be really clear.”

He finally met my eyes, and I saw something there—pride, maybe, or hope.

So he was complimenting my potential.

I relaxed, letting his words sink in.

I thought he just disliked my small-town accent.

It was a relief to know that wasn’t the case.

I happily hugged Carter’s arm, rubbing my head against him.

I clung to him, grateful and a little giddy.

I hadn’t interacted much with Carter before.

Our relationship had always been polite but distant.

To get him to teach me well, I started washing his clothes, making his bed, folding his blanket every day.

I wanted to show my appreciation, even if it meant acting like a maid.

Carter was a little embarrassed. “Charlie, why are you so nice to me?”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking away.

“I’m just afraid you’ll feel taken advantage of, so I want you to teach me well.”

It was the truth.

Carter’s expression was a little complicated. “Actually, I’m not losing out. You don’t need to…”

He trailed off, eyes darting away.

“It’s fine. Besides money, I’ll do some chores for you, too.”

I grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

I grabbed Carter’s T-shirt, pinching his waist through the fabric. “Carter, lift your arms. I’ll help you take it off.”

My hands shook a little, but I pretended not to notice.

Carter’s body suddenly stiffened. He swallowed the rest of his words.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words caught in his throat.

He rolled his Adam’s apple, like he was holding something back.

I watched the movement, fascinated.

Then, blushing, he raised both hands above his head.

His cheeks were bright red, but he didn’t protest.

I rolled up his short sleeves, standing on tiptoe.

The fabric slipped over his head, leaving his hair mussed.

That night, Carter changed his Instagram status: [Hope those who take and eat won’t get struck by lightning.] I had no idea what that meant.

I stared at the cryptic update, puzzled.

“Carter, what does your status mean?”

I cornered him in the hallway, curiosity burning in my chest.

Lately, the more time I spent with Carter, the more curious I got.

He was an enigma, always holding something back.

Carter didn’t answer me.

He just shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line.

Blushing, he walked over to me, his eyes shining. “I’m going to shower. Can you… help me take off my T-shirt again?”

His voice was soft. Almost pleading. My heart skipped a beat.

Just as I was about to help him, Noah burst in from his night run.

He barreled through the door, sweaty and breathless.

“Carter, you’re lying. I asked my other communications classmates, and they said there’s no such thing as an ice cube exercise.”

He waved his phone like a smoking gun.

I stopped helping Carter undress. “There’s no such exercise?”

My voice was small, uncertain.

Carter gritted his teeth. “Noah, can’t you just watch your videos quietly instead of asking around?”

He sounded annoyed. But there was a hint of panic in his eyes. I frowned, confused.

Then he answered me with difficulty, “Maybe… different schools have different methods.”

He wouldn’t meet my gaze.

Carter pulled out his phone and searched for ‘stone-in-mouth exercise.’ Sure enough, there were plenty of examples.

He scrolled through article after article, showing me videos.

Some even used stones to treat stuttering.

The stories were wild—kids learning to speak better by chewing on river rocks.

Seeing the evidence, I let go of my doubts.

If other people were doing it, maybe I wasn’t so weird after all.

“But why do other people use stones and I use ice cubes?”

It seemed like a fair question.

“Stones are dangerous, and…”

He trailed off, eyes flicking to my mouth.

“And what?”

I prompted him, hoping for a real answer.

“And the inside of your mouth is very soft.”

He said it quietly, almost to himself.

Carter wasn’t wrong.

I thought about how sore my mouth had been lately.

My mouth really can’t take much.

After just a few days of practice, my mouth was already rubbed raw.

I winced, remembering the sting.

Carter helped me apply ointment, looking a bit troubled.

He dabbed ointment on my lips, hands gentle.

His gaze was strange.

He watched me like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

“Just doing this isn’t enough.”

His voice was quiet. Almost sad.

I shook my head, pretending to be tough. “It’s fine, coach. I’ll practice hard.”

I grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

I’d already pictured myself on stage, speaking smoothly at a debate competition.

I imagined the applause, the bright lights, the thrill of finally being understood.

The reason my mouth got rubbed raw so quickly—besides being too soft—was that I practiced too much.

I was obsessed, practicing every chance I got.

To improve faster, I worked really hard.

I spent hours in front of the mirror, repeating tongue twisters.

Besides the speech practice videos Carter sent me, I often asked him to feed me ice cubes.

It became a routine—me, sitting on the edge of my bed, Carter standing over me with an ice cube in hand.

Clinging to him in the dorm.

Sometimes I’d rest my head on his shoulder, just to feel close.

Clinging to him outside the dorm, too.

We’d walk across campus, me chattering away, Carter listening with a soft smile.

In the dorm, Carter kept the ice cubes in his mini fridge. Outside, he brought a thermos just for my ice cubes.

He always thought ahead, making sure I had what I needed.

I worked really hard.

I wanted to make Carter proud.

Until two girls eating next to us whispered in surprise.

Their voices carried across the dining hall, sharp and bright.

“Wow, those two are acting like a married couple.”

I froze, cheeks burning.

“Look at the one on the bottom—he’s sucking fingers so happily.”

I choked, nearly spitting out the ice.

“I… I’m not sucking fingers, I’m doing mouth exercises.”

I stammered, desperate to defend myself.

With my cheeks puffed out, ice cube in my mouth, I looked at them.

I tried to look tough, but it was hard with my mouth full.

The two of them clutched their chests, giggling.

They whispered to each other, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Damn, bestie, did you hear that? What kind of exercise is he practicing? So weird.”

Their words echoed in my ears, making me want to hide.

“Bestie, I heard it with both ears. Look at him—eyes watery from practice, mouth all raw, so obedient. I want to tease him.”

I felt my face go up in flames.

My face turned red instantly.

I ducked my head, wishing I could disappear.

Back in the dorm, I told Carter, “You’ve helped me so many times, I already remember the position and direction. From now on, I’ll practice by myself.”

I tried to sound confident, but my voice wobbled.

Carter’s face turned cold, and he walked toward me with an ice cube. “No, I’ll still help you.”

His tone brooked no argument.

I pushed Carter away, blushing furiously. “Everyone’s talking about us.”

The words tumbled out, raw and honest.

“So what?”

His voice was soft. Almost pleading.

“Anyway, no.”

I shook my head, determined to stand my ground.

I covered my mouth and wouldn’t open it again.

It hurt, but I didn’t know what else to do.

In the end, Carter just said, flatly, “Fine.”

He turned away, shoulders slumped.

Before bed, Carter left the dorm. He didn’t come back until the next morning—drunk.

He stumbled in, reeking of whiskey, eyes bloodshot.

“Why did you drink so much?”

I tried to help Carter onto the chair, but he pushed me onto the bed, his voice cold and sharp. “Not letting me help you practice anymore?”

His words were slurred, but the pain in them was clear.

I didn’t know why he was asking this even when drunk.

I stared up at him, searching his face for answers.

But I still answered honestly, “No need.”

My voice was small. Almost apologetic.

Carter panted heavily. “So you’ve already gotten really good at it?”

His breath was hot on my face, tinged with alcohol.

I shook my head dumbly.

I didn’t know what he wanted from me.

“That’s not what I mean, I mean I can practice by myself…”

I tried to explain, but Carter cut me off with a snort.

Carter snorted coldly. “So you really think you’re good now.”

His words stung, but I didn’t argue.

I kept shaking my head.

Tears pricked at my eyes, but I blinked them away.

Suddenly, Carter held my head still.

His hands were gentle but firm, holding me in place.

He reached out and pried open my mouth, his other hand quickly grabbing my waistband.

His touch was electric, sending shivers down my spine.

“Mm. The ice cube practice is done—now it’s time to try something else.”

His voice was low. Almost a growl. I shivered, anticipation and fear mixing in my chest. Whatever happened next, I knew things would never be the same.