The Beast On Ice

SARAH The stadium lights were so bright they made the falling snow look like glitter. Loud. Blinding. Electric. And somehow… I was still invisible in all of it. The crowd roared as Henry skated past center ice, slicing through defenders like he owned the entire rink. Of course he did—Captain, golden boy, the school’s pride, the Blake everyone wanted to take pictures with. “Henry! Henry! Henry!” Their voices shook the dome, echoing off the frosted glass. I stood at my usual place on the sideline, hugging the clipboard to my chest like it was some kind of shield. Being the team intern sounded cute until you realized it meant two things: Fetch water. Try not to exist. My breath fogged the air as I tucked a loose hair back into my beanie. It didn’t help. My curves always made me feel like I took up too much space, even when I wasn’t moving at all. Henry shot. The puck sliced through the air — GOAL. People jumped up, screaming. He lifted his stick in celebration, his jersey clinging to his body like it loved him more than anyone else ever could. For a stupid second, I felt proud. Not the crowd-cheering kind of proud. More like the my brother is the only person I have in this entire school proud. He skated toward me, frost clinging to his eyebrows. “Hey, Peanut.” He pulled me into a quick side hug before I could dodge. “Cold?” “Freezing,” I muttered, even though his sweaty jersey was ten times worse. He ruffled my hair—messy, playful, the way only a big brother would… but to outsiders? Yeah, it probably looked weird. Especially since we didn’t look even remotely related. Not the same hair. Not the same face. Not the same build. Nothing. “Don’t look at Xavier,” Henry said suddenly, voice dropping to a warning whisper. “He’s a monster.” I blinked. “Who?” He didn’t answer. The coach was shouting for him. I watched Henry skate away, confused—until the boards rattled violently as someone slammed into them. A new player. Dark jersey. Colder eyes. A smirk like trouble. Xavier Reeves. The arena practically vibrated the moment he stepped onto the ice. The crowd gasped. Girls screamed. Even the players tensed. “Well, well…” someone muttered behind me. “The king has arrived.” Xavier pushed off, gliding like he wasn’t even touching the ice. Dangerous. Effortless. The hot, arrogant type who looked like he kissed girls behind the bleachers just because he felt bored. The second he touched the puck, I swear time slowed. He faked out two defenders—just skating past them like they were cardboard. Then he flicked his wrist— GOAL. The crowd exploded. “XAVIER! XAVIER! XAVIER!” Henry swore under his breath and shot him a glare sharp enough to cut ice. Oh. So that’s who Henry warned me about. Xavier skated past Henry with a smirk that practically dripped with arrogance. “Try harder next time, Captain,” he teased loud enough for the first three rows to hear. “You’re too weak.” Henry gripped his stick. Hard. I clenched my clipboard, wishing for once I could disappear more than I already did. The game only got worse. Xavier scored again. And again. And again. By the time the referee blew the final whistle, the scoreboard might as well have flashed: XAVIER BLAKE OWNS THIS RINK. I watched Henry throw his helmet into the bench. He hated losing. But losing to someone who was his exact opposite—sharp where Henry was warm, unpredictable where Henry was disciplined—must’ve burned like hell. I barely had time to breathe before someone’s shadow stretched over me. Three girls. The famous ones. The pretty ones. The ones who looked like they were carved out of i********: filters and glitter. Jessica. Mara. Ally. Queen Bees of the “you don’t belong here” club. Jessica crossed her arms, looking me up and down like I was a stain on the ice. “Why was Henry hugging you?” My mouth dried. Here we go. “He wasn’t hugging me,” I lied, gripping the clipboard tighter. “He was just—” “Touching your hair. Laughing with you.” Mara wrinkled her nose. “Seriously, Sarah? Are you trying to flirt with him?” “I—what? No!” I choked. “Henry is—” “He is not your type,” Jessica snapped. “Please. Even in a power outage, he’d never look at you.” Her words hit harder than a slap. Yeah. I knew my body type wasn’t exactly poster-ready. Soft. Curvy. Busty. Thick thighs I could never hide, even under winter layers. But hearing it so loudly— It stung. Ally snatched my phone from the bench before I could react. “Hey—!” She unlocked it instantly. (I still had no idea how she always did that.) The first picture on my home screen loaded. Henry and me. Smiling. Siblings. But the whole world saw something else, apparently. Jessica burst into laughter. “Oh my God. She’s delusional. She thinks she actually has a chance with him.” “He’s a Blake,” Mara added, rolling her eyes. “You’re just… you.” Just me. My stomach twisted. Before I could snatch the phone back, Jessica tipped her cup forward. Hot coffee spilled onto my boots, splashing across the ice at my feet. “Oh no,” she gasped, pressing a dramatic hand to her chest. “Look what I did. You should clean that up. Intern job, right?” My throat tightened. “Jessica, please—” Cold water splashed next. On my pants. Down my legs. Into my socks. I flinched at the freezing shock. “Oops,” Ally chimed. “We’re such disasters today.” The three girls watched me like they were wolves waiting for me to kneel. And I did. Because I couldn’t afford to lose this job. Because I couldn’t afford to lose anything. I sank to the cold ground and started gathering my things—water bottles, spilled tape rolls, my soaked gloves. My eyes burned, but I forced the tears down. Not here. Not now. Not in front of them. As I reached for the last thing—a puck near Jessica’s foot—I saw her pick up a hockey ball instead, raising it with a cruel grin. “Let’s see how fast she reacts,” she said. No. No. No. My heart slammed against my ribs. “Jessica, don’t—please—” She didn’t listen. She pulled her arm back— And the ball flew at me. Fast. Hard. Cold. I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut— THWACK! Silence. A heavy silence. My chest heaved as I slowly opened my eyes. The ball wasn’t on the ground. It wasn’t in my face. It wasn’t even near me. It was suspended in the air. Held in one strong hand. Veins. Tension. A grip that looked like it could crush steel. Then a voice. Low. Cold. Dangerous enough to freeze fire. “What the hell,” he said, “You okay? Don't worry. I got you” Xavier. His eyes weren’t on the girls. They were locked on me. And that was somehow even scarier.