Westmore Obsession

Chapter Five

There was no way I was going to their game alone. I had invited Maya and Katy, who were more than enthusiastic to come along. Maya, especially, couldn’t shut up about seeing the match from front-row seats. Getting the extra tickets was shockingly easy. All I had to do was tell Ethan that the student section felt overwhelming and that I didn’t feel safe sitting alone as a freshman. The moment the words “not safe” left my mouth, I knew I had him. Within ten minutes, two front row digital passes for Maya and Katy were sent straight to my phone.

Friday evening arrived faster than I wanted. Our dorm room was a complete disaster, with clothes thrown across every available surface while Maya searched for her “perfect outfit.”

“Maya, relax, it’s just a game,” I said, palming my forehead.

“You’re telling me we’re sitting front row?” Maya squealed, ignoring my comment completely as she applied a thick layer of lip gloss in the mirror. “Lily, I might actually faint. If one of them so much as looks in my direction, carry my body out.”

Katy smiled from the corner. She was wearing a muted oversized sweater that somehow made her look effortlessly pretty. I caught her nervously tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear, adjusting the black and gold Westmore lanyard Ethan had sent over with the tickets. I was dressed in a simple plaid skirt and a fitted top, my hair swept up into a sleek ponytail with my lips coated in my favorite cherry gloss. Maya finally joined us in tight fitting pants that showed off her curves and a charcoal hoodie. For a second, I debated grabbing a sweatshirt of my own, but decided against it.

“Let’s go, girls,” I said with forced excitement. I didn’t want to ruin their mood when they were so hyped, and I was genuinely glad they were with me.

When we walked into the Westmore Athletics Center, the atmosphere was electrifying. The arena was packed, a deafening sea of black and gold roaring against the rival blue and white of Calvary College. Cold air radiated off the freshly groomed ice, mixing with the sharp scent of popcorn and adrenaline.

Squeezing our way down to the front row was a nightmare; I vowed never to arrive this late to a game again. We had barely reached our seats when the buzzer sounded and both teams skated onto the rink to thunderous cheers. My eyes instantly found Ethan, looking massive in his padded gear with the bold 'C' stitched proudly onto his jersey, his jaw set in pure captain's focus. Beside him stood Alex, cold and adjusting his helmet like the chaos around him didn't bother him in the slightest.

And then there was Cole. He glided across the ice effortlessly with grace. I finally understood why people called them gods; on the rink, they truly looked the part. As he lined up at center ice for the opening faceoff, his eyes scanned the front row until they locked directly onto mine. The corner of his mouth twitched into that dark, terrifying smirk I was slowly getting used to. Almost.

Don't be late. His threat from earlier echoed inside my head.

The game was a brutal, bloody bloodbath from the first drop of the puck. Calvary played dirty, throwing heavy body checks and slamming our players into the boards every chance they got.

Halfway through the second period, with the score tied at 1–1, a Calvary forward slammed Ethan hard from behind into the glass right in front of us. The crunch of plastic and padding made me jump.

“He’s okay,” Maya assured me, as if reading my thoughts.

Before I could breathe a sigh of relief, Ethan snapped. He shoved the player back, and within seconds, gloves hit the ice. Ethan threw a heavy right hook that connected squarely with the guy's helmet, sending the entire arena into absolute chaos.

“Ethan, stop!” I shouted, though I knew it was useless. Did hockey always have to be this violent?

Katy looked terrified, looking just as clueless as I felt.

“There’s always at least one fight per game,” Maya shouted over the roar of the crowd. “And since Calvary is playing filthy, expect a lot more before the night is over.”

I turned my attention back to the rink.

The refs had cleared the ice, and play resumed with our captain heading directly to the penalty box.

“He’s fine, right?” I asked Maya.

“Yeah, he’ll be back out in two minutes.”

Everyone in the crowd sat on the edge of their seats, watching the tension escalate. Maya was right; two more fights broke out before the period ended. With only two minutes left on the clock in the third, Cole intercepted a pass at mid ice and broke through two defenders with terrifying speed. As Cole moved toward the goal, the Calvary goalie rushed forward to meet him. For a second, I thought he had nowhere to go. Then Cole lifted his stick as though he was about to shoot. The goalie moved. Cole didn’t. He pulled the puck back at the last second and sent it flying toward the opposite side of the net.

Puck in the net. The red siren blared. Westmore won, 2–1.

Before I even realized it, I was on my feet, screaming and hugging Maya and Katy as the crowd erupted around us.

We waited near the frosted glass doors of the players' exit minutes later when the arena was almost empty. Ethan had texted me to wait by the exit so he could drive us back to the dorms.

While we stood there, Emily strutted past wearing a tight crimson jersey with Cole's number printed across the back. A sudden, unwanted surge of jealousy flared in my chest. She was publicly claiming him, and it stung even more knowing she actually had the right to do so. Cole was playing us both, and I was stupidly allowing it. I swallowed hard, trying to push the thought down.

Suddenly, a tall guy in a Calvary College jacket walked by holding a plastic cup. He stopped right in front of us. Blond, blue-eyed, and with a chiseled jawline, he looked like he stepped straight out of a modeling catalog.

"Hey, gorgeous ladies," he purred, his voice dripping with charm.

Maya and Katy offered polite smiles, but I was too consumed by my own thoughts to care and completely ignored him. My lack of interest seemed to hook him immediately.

“I’m Caden,” he said, locking his eyes on mine before glancing casually at Maya and Katy.

I wasn’t in the mood for games. I stepped forward to walk past him, but he reached out and caught my wrist.

"Aw, come on, don't be like that. I just want to get to know you."

I was about to yank my arm back or lash out when a dark shadow fell over us.

“Leave the lady alone.”

Cole’s voice cut through the air, low, sharp, and deadly. His dark hair was still damp from the shower, a plain black hoodie pulled over his broad shoulders.

Caden didn't flinch. “She can speak for herself,” he replied.

In one smooth motion, Cole grabbed Caden by the collar from behind and yanked him backward so hard his back slammed violently against the concrete wall.

“Stop it, Cole! You don’t get to decide who I talk to!” I yelled, stepping forward to pull Caden away.

“Babe, you don’t have to defend her. She was clearly enjoying the attention,” Emily interjected, stepping up beside Cole with a venomous glare aimed at me.

“Don’t call me that,” Cole snapped, harsh.

Emily blinked, flustered. “Cole, what is wrong with you?”

“Go sit in the car,” he ordered coldly.

“But…”

"In the car, Emily," he repeated, his tone leaving zero room for debate.

Emily's jaw tightened, red embarrassment creeping up her neck as she realized Maya, Katy, and I were watching her get dismissed like a child. She shot me one last deadly look before turning on her heel and strutting through the double doors. Guess he didn’t treat her any better. Asshole.

Cole turned his icy glare back onto Caden. “Get out of here.”

Caden looked at Cole, then at me, then back at Cole. He let out a dry smirk, raised his hands in surrender, and walked away. He clearly decided I wasn't worth getting his face broken over.

With Caden gone, Cole slowly turned his attention to me. His dark eyes swept over Maya and Katy before settling entirely on my face. His gaze dragged down to my lips, lingering there for a long, heavy minute while my chest heaved up and down.

He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a low, possessive whisper against my ear:

“You seem to forget, little Lily..."

"That you belong to me, and I do not like to share.”

Before I could find my voice to reply, he stood up straight, turned around, and walked away.