Ice Trial: Mated To My Nerd Stepsister

Chapter One

Chapter One

Sloane

My fingers thread subconsciously through the locks of my hair, as I try to tune in to the ongoing class. It’s quite impossible. My head is banging like crazy. And Mr Damson’s loud voice isn’t doing anything to soothe it. I count down the time until the class is over.

Five minutes more.

“…and I’ll expect to see wonderfully detailed research, sent to my email address. Have a good day, class,” Mr Damson—a tall man with shaggy brown hair and cunning eyes that stared right through you—says, as he makes his way out. He pauses, and glances at me as if on second thought.

“Andrews?” He calls out. I stand up, even though I really don’t need to. “See me as soon as you’re free,” he says, and walks out before my feeble nod makes its descent. I bite back a groan as I take a seat once more. I know why he wants to see me. I did terribly during the last test—courtesy of my rampaging thoughts.

I exhale slowly, bow my head, and bring out a paranormal book I started reading two days ago. The Alpha King’s Mate, was the title, and though it is intriguing, it isn’t what I’d normally read. Try as I could to stop my mind from straying, the discussion I had with my mother last night fills my mind. I hug myself, pushing back the tears that are rapidly gathering in my eyes.

Our rent was due, and as usual, we have no money to pay up. We’d soon be homeless. At least, I am a scholarship student, so we don’t have to worry about school fees. One less trouble.

“Earth to Sloane,” a bubbly voice calls out just then, startling me from my thoughts. I look up to see my friend—Bertha, a girl worlds away from me status–wise—taking a seat across from me, a chewing gum in her mouth as she pops away.

“Hi,” I croak.

“Right back at ya,” she winks. She leans in. “If I didn’t know better, I would think that you gave a guy a b*****b last night,” she grins. My face colors. Bertha is always vulgar.

“Bertha,” I start to say.

She waves her hand. “Oh, I know better. Your lips are as virgin as they come. You look like death. Come on, let’s go to the game. You’ll be cheery in no time” She doesn’t wait for my reply, as her words flow out in a fast manner.

I stare blankly. The headache is getting worse. And what game is she talking about?

“What game?” I question, with an exhale.

She frowns. “You’re joking, aren’t you?” She shoots back, and I shrug in response.

“Depends on what your definition of a joke is,” I reply, pushing back my glasses, so it doesn’t rest too much on my nose.

“Are you even a student of this school?” She clicks her tongue, looking genuinely concerned. “Today is a friendly match between our school and Riverfront High,” she reminds me. I have no recollection whatsoever, but I pretend to.

“Get your ass up and let’s get moving. I want us to get good spots,” she says, half-pulling my arm as she helps me to my feet. Her chewing gets louder, and I almost wince at the impact it’s having on my headache. Heaven knows I’d give anything to be at home right now, huddled beneath my sheets, reading my novel.

“I have to see Mr Damson, he asked–” I began a pathetic attempt to dodge watching the game with her. She makes a face.

“Don’t even dare. You’ll see him later. We are not doing this today.” She says firmly, her lips pressed tight against each other.

I sigh. “It was worth an attempt.” I arrange my books into my bag, taking care to keep the novel at the forefront, then slung it behind my back. “Aren’t you cheering today?” I question, as she leads the way out of the classroom. Other students are piling out, their excited chatters forming a backdrop, as I try to remain invisible.

Bertha pops her chewing gum. “Nope,” she replies, stressing on the last syllable. Bertha is a popular cheerleader, something that makes me wonder why she’s friends with me in the first place. I am boring, and well, just another average student. I haven’t figured out what drew her to me. But Bertha is such a confident, kind and loving person, that I could not resist her friendship when she offered.

“Hurry up, Sloane, or we have to take the back seats,” Bertha urges me.

We soon arrive at the ice arena, and it’s almost half full. Bertha takes me down to the spectator seats, where we find good spots—according to her. My attention is barely in the room.

“How long will the game last?” I question, as the players walk in. I recognize the jersey that belongs to our school team, and I assume the unfamiliar jersey belongs to Riverfront High’s team.

“An hour,” she replies absentmindedly. “Oh, there’s Castle,” she adds, her voice taking an excited pitch. But she needn’t have said a word. I feel him walk in, even without seeing him. That familiar warmth washes over my body, settling in my chest, and making me swallow hard. My eyes train on his body, as he whispers something to his teammates who converge around him. Castle Raemon—the ice hockey captain, and the most handsome guy in Vikings High School—is someone who commands attention without doing much. I hate how I’m feeling. I hate how it’s getting hard to pace my breathing, without exhaling raggedly.

I avert my gaze just as the players skate into the rink, and take their positions. I focus. The referee throws down the puck, and the game begins. I don’t understand a single thing about ice hockey, but I am unable to move my eyes away. Castle holds onto his stick. I can hear the excited squeals of the girls behind our seats.

“He’s so hot,” I hear one say.

“Yeah, but not hot enough for me to risk a scratch or bruises from Sansa’s nails,” another girl sneers, her tone sarcastic.

I swallow hard, and my hands curl into fists. What am I thinking of, staring at another girl’s boyfriend in this manner? Sansa Tristan, nonetheless. I shake my head, as if doing so would push the thoughts away. They do no good. I don’t know how much time passes, but I watch the game in a daze.

Sometime later, a victorious roar spreads in the ice arena.

“We won!” Bertha screams, as I look at her inquisitively. My eyes travel down to the rink just in time to see Castle taking off his helmet and smiling brightly. Mesmerized, I stare. He’s so handsome.

I need to get out of here. “Um, Bertha, gotta go,” I push off my seat, and hurry out of the arena without waiting for a response. I walk down the hallway that will soon be crowded, my thoughts starting to get saturated once more.

“Sloane Andrews?” An unfamiliar voice calls out from in front of me. I steer to a halt, forced out of my thoughts. I glance at the inquirer. He’s dressed in a player’s jersey, obviously one of the players, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. I am surprised that I am being spoken to. By one of the players at that. Before now, I was neither here nor there. No one ever takes any notice of me—with the exception of Bertha and the teachers.

I clear my throat, and hope I don’t sound jittery. I push back my glasses.

“Y-yes?” I stutter, trying not to meet his gaze.

“Come with me,” he commands in an arrogant manner that irks me. He doesn’t even wait to see if I’m behind him, before he turns to walk away. I hesitate, before hurrying after him. He heads to the gym, ushers me inside and turns to leave.

There is a tall figure waiting inside. His helmet is off now. My head picks up speed as he turns around.

This is the first time I am standing face-face with Castle Raemon. Up close, he is even more handsome than my imagination can put together.

“Sloane Andrews–” his voice rings clear, his shoulders resting in a confident manner. His crop of auburn hair frames his head well. “–I have a deal for you.” He says, and my eyes go wide.