The hockey star's rival

Chap.3

JADE'S POV:

The rink feels colder than usual this morning, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones no matter how many layers you wear. Frost clings to the boards, breath fogs in the air, and the overhead lights cast everything in a harsh, sterile glow.

But it’s not the temperature that makes my skin prickle. It’s the silence.

Every single pair of eyes is on me as I lace up my skates on the bench. Twenty boys, one girl. Every one of them waiting for me to slip, to c***k, to prove I don’t belong here.

Noah leans casually against the boards, blowing a bubble with his gum. “No pressure, Hayes,” he drawls. “Just remember: if you faceplant, do it gracefully. Like Swan Lake but with more blood.”

I snort, tugging my laces tighter. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

Caleb slides past on the ice, his blond hair glinting under the lights. “Ignore them,” he calls, flashing me that easy grin. “Just play your game.”

Dominic is the last to emerge from the locker room. He strides onto the ice like he owns it, like it bends to his will. His black hair is damp, jaw set, dark eyes gleaming with something sharp. He doesn’t even look at me as he tosses a puck into the air, catching it lazily with his stick.

Finally, he turns, his smirk cutting like a blade. “Try not to cry when you eat the ice, Hayes.”

I rise slowly, stepping onto the rink. The familiar scrape of blade against frozen surface fills my chest with something steadier than adrenaline... purpose. I meet his gaze, steady and unflinching. “Don’t worry, Vance. You’ll be too busy trying to keep up.”

The team erupts in laughter, half shocked, half amused. The tension spikes.

Coach Harris blows his whistle, the sound sharp enough to split glass. “Enough talking. Pair off. Scrimmage starts now.”

The puck drops.

I explode forward, skates slicing across the ice with speed I’ve honed since I could walk. The puck sticks to my blade as if it knows where it belongs. A defenseman charges at me, but I spin, the blade of my skate carving a spray of ice into his chest. He falters, and I’m already past him.

The boys shout, scramble. They’re faster, bigger, but they’re not sharper. Not like me.

Then Dominic is there. Towering, solid, eyes locked on me like a predator sizing up prey. He cuts me off with brutal precision, stick clashing against mine with a loud c***k.

“Nice try,” he mutters, pushing forward.

I grit my teeth, muscles burning as we battle for control. His strength is undeniable, but I don’t play with strength. I play with speed. With angles and brains.

I fake left, spin right, and the puck slips free. For a split second, Dominic is off balance. That’s all I need.

I surge forward, slicing across the ice toward the goal. The goalie braces, eyes wide, but he’s too slow. My stick cracks against the puck, sending it sailing past his glove and into the net with a resounding clang.

The arena goes silent.

Then an explosion. Shouts, gasps, curses.

“She scored on Vance?”

“No way-”

“She actually beat him-”

My chest heaves, sweat prickling at my temples, but I don’t let them see the exhaustion. I skate back toward center ice, lifting my chin as if I planned this all along.

Dominic stares at me, fury flashing in his dark eyes. His jaw tightens, fists clenching around his stick. For a moment, it looks like he might actually snap it in half.

I smirk. “Better luck next time.”

The team roars with laughter, half of them at him, half in disbelief. Dominic’s humiliation radiates across the rink like heat, fueling something in me I can’t quite name.

~~~

The air in the locker room hums with gossip. Boys crowd together, their voices low but excited.

“She smoked him.”

“Never thought I’d see Vance lose.”

“She’s got real skill, man.”

My locker is near Dominic's and he is standing right near his. As I draw closer to the locker, I can hear him arguing in whispers with his phone on his ear. Without meaning to eavesdrop, I draw closer and hear some of his words,

"I'm sorry I lost, sir. I promise I won't let it happen again."

Who could he be taking to? Maybe his dad? But why would a whole Don Vance be concerned with a small squabble his son was involved in though?

At that moment, he drops his phone to the side and swiftly turns as if sensing my presence.

Dominic storms past, slamming his locker shut hard enough to rattle the metal. His glare cuts the whispers short, but not completely. I can still hear them; she beat him.

Caleb leans against the wall beside me, grin lazy but eyes sharp. “Well, Hayes, you sure know how to make an entrance.”

“Wasn’t trying to,” I mutter, peeling off my gloves. “Just playing my game.”

“Don’t downplay it,” Noah chimes in, perched on the bench scrolling through his phone. “You humiliated the golden boy. It’s like you just kicked the school mascot in the teeth. I’m a fan, personally.”

I laugh, but the sound dies quickly as Dominic’s shadow looms over us. His eyes lock on mine, dark and stormy.

“You think this means you belong here?” His voice is low, venomous.

I meet his glare, refusing to flinch. “I think it means you’re not untouchable.”

The locker room falls silent. Boys hold their breath, waiting for him to explode.

Dominic steps closer, so close I can feel the heat radiating off him. His voice drops to a whisper meant only for me. “I’ll make you quit. One way or another.”

My pulse spikes, but I force a smile. “Good luck with that.”

That night, as I lie in the dorm, exhaustion weighing me down, the day replays in my head. The gasps, the gossip and the look on Dominic’s face when I scored.

He wants me gone.

But for the first time in a long time, I feel like I have something to fight for... not just survival, but pride.

Dominic Vance may be the star of this school but he just lit a fire he won’t be able to put out and I swear, I’m not going anywhere.