XAVIER'S POV
The door clanged shut behind her. I stood there, alone on the rink, heart still beating hard—not from the practice, not from the game, from the unknown and much worse,from her.
“From her.” I repeated quietly, sighing loudly. Melissa. One second she was threatening to break my teeth, the next she was blushing. Then she hit her damn head and bolted like I’d lit her on fire. What the hell was that? And most importantly why did she do that? I bent, picked up the last puck, and shot it straight into the net. Clack. Maybe I should’ve stayed quiet. Maybe I shouldn't have teased her. But honestly, I liked it,it brought a sense of belonging to me.I liked watching her react. She barely spoke on the team. Always straight-faced, cold, all business. You could score a game-winning goal and she’d just nod and skate off, like nothing happened. She hardly joined the team in celebrating or whining over our loss. But tonight? I got under her skin.And I wanted to do it again. Shit. I tugged off my gloves and pulled out my phone. I wasn’t sure why. Habit, maybe. Or maybe just... curiosity. Something about her bothered me. Not in the bad way. In the pulling at the edge of your thoughts kind of way. I typed: Melissa Brown hockey A few articles popped up. Stats, mostly. Highlights. One from last year titled “Youngest Female Player to Break Into Men’s League”. Another calling her “The Ice Queen of England.” Fitting. But ice? Truly she's the ice queen but seeing a part of that ice break in a blush today was awesome. I found myself smiling and scrolling more. There were clips of her plays—clean passes, tight defense, razor-sharp steals. No interviews, no social posts, no drama, nothing personal. No favorite band. No dumb TikToks. Not even a quote. Just... hockey. And a name I should’ve never been typing into my phone. I locked it and shoved it back into my pocket. Get it together. She was Katrina’s sister. My girlfriend’s sister and this? Was pure stalking. Off-limits. Out of bounds. Wrong. I sighed and left the rink. Katrina opened the hotel room door before I knocked. “There you are!” she said, launching into my chest. I caught her out of reflex. Her hair smelled like strawberries and some kind of floral shampoo. She pulled back just enough to look at me. “Where’d you go? It's been like forever.” She whispered. “Just needed a bit of air,” I said, keeping it casual. “Cleared my head on the ice.” “You’re not hurt, right? Oh how I love being in your arms.” She whispered again. “No, babe.” I kissed her forehead. “All good.” She looked at me a little too long. “You sure?” I nodded. “Promise.” Her arms slid around my waist. “You were amazing today.” I smiled. “You say that every game.” “Because it’s true.” She poked my chest. “MVP and trust me I'm lucky to have you.” “Melissa was insane too,” I said before I could stop myself. Katrina blinked. “Yeah. I guess.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I mean—she’s fast. Her passes are crazy clean.” “She’s my sister,” Katrina said, stepping back. “I know. I just—” I cleared my throat. “I’m just saying, she’s good.” There was a pause. Her smile faltered a little. “Katrina,” I said, wrapping an arm around her, “You don’t have to worry. I’m with you. Always.” She gave a small nod. “It’s not that.” I tilted her chin gently. “Then what?” Her voice dropped. “She just… She’s different now. People notice her more. They look at her and not me. And it’s stupid, but I feel… small.” That hit me harder than I expected. Katrina always seemed so loud. So sure. Always walking like the world owed her attention and acted like a real queen B but hearing her voice out her fears….it didn't sit well with me. And now? She looked vulnerable. “I see you,” I said, pulling her close again. “Only you, you're beautiful and I won't trade you for any other person trust me.” I whispered. “You better,” she said, half-laughing into my chest. “I do.” We lay in bed later, tangled up under the hotel sheets. Her leg was over mine, her head on my shoulder, her breathing slow but she was awake.“What are you thinking about?” I asked, trying to pull her out of whatever she was thinking.
“Just wondering what they all see in her,she's just a girl who plays hockey, nothing more.” The loathe was minor but still evident in her voice.
She was falling asleep. And I should’ve been, too. But I wasn’t. I stared at the ceiling, trying to erase the memory of earlier. The way Melissa looked under the soft arena lights. The way her jaw clenched when I teased her. The way she blushed. God, that blush. Why did I even notice? What's wrong with me? In bed with one sister and thinking about the other? I sighed. She was cold. Rude. Unsmiling. A total pain in the ass. And still… interesting. Not the way Katrina was. Katrina was all noise and sparkle. Melissa was very cold. You couldn’t ignore her. Even when she wasn’t saying a word. She has an aura around her, clouding the very space she occupies. Especially when she wasn’t saying a word. I turned my head on the pillow. I was also tempted to pick my phone and scroll through the Internet again but I knew I wasn't going to see that blush,none of her photos had a blush or smile.“What's going on?” I whispered and I'm sure this would be the second time I'm saying this today.
Katrina mumbled something and snuggled closer, her hand sliding up my chest. “Love you,” she whispered. “Love you too,” I said softly, kissing her hair. But my chest was tight. And I hated myself for the thought that came next. Why the hell am I thinking about Melissa again?MELISSA’S POVI didn’t give myself the chance to think twice.If I did, I knew my stubborn brain would talk me out of it, tell me to “let it go” like some unbothered, graceful queen. But I wasn’t unbothered. I was bothered enough to feel it in my pulse, in the way my jaw clenched as I grabbed my phone, tossed it onto the bed, and stormed to the bathroom.The shower was quick—barely enough time for the water to turn warm before I stepped out, wrapped myself in the nearest towel, and yanked open my wardrobe. Jeans. A plain black tee. Sneakers. Nothing fancy. This wasn’t about dressing to impress. This was about answers.Five minutes later, I was in a cab, staring out the window but not seeing a single thing. My mind was too busy replaying every distant look, every clipped text, every awkward silence from him in the past week. Xavier.The nerve of him.By the time the cab pulled up to his building, I’d rehearsed exactly what I was going to say. Or at least, I thought I had.I took the el
MELISSA’S POVThe office wardrobe always smelled like a strange mix of fabric softener, perfume, and just a hint of coffee from the staff rushing between fittings. I stepped in, my heels clicking against the polished wooden floor, and was immediately greeted by racks upon racks of clothes. Everything was lined up neatly—dresses in protective plastic, tailored suits, shoes organized by color and size, and a little accessory wall that looked like a jeweler’s display.“Melissa, right?” one of the wardrobe assistants called from behind a rack of sequined gowns. She was petite, with her hair tied in a messy bun, and had a measuring tape slung around her neck like it was part of her outfit.“Yeah, that’s me,” I replied, offering a polite smile as I approached.She handed me a garment bag. “Here’s your outfit for today’s shoot. Xavier already approved the theme, so we’ve kept it simple but elegant. The color’s going to pop on camera.”I nodded and thanked her, unzipping the bag just enough t
MELISSA’S POVAfter practice, I didn’t bother trying to call Xavier again.The truth was, I had already done that more than I cared to admit—watched his name flash on my screen, tapped “call,” and waited for the faintest sound of his voice on the other end. And every time, the call had rung until it faded into that hollow void of voicemail.So, that night, I decided to let him be.It was easier to pretend I wasn’t bothered than to keep chasing silence.I curled up in bed with my phone, mindlessly scrolling, until Marco’s name popped up in the group chat.> Marco: “Morning shoot tomorrow. Everyone be there early. 8:30 sharp.”I groaned, already dreading the thought of waking up before the sun was truly up. My thumb hovered over the screen as the others reacted with emojis and short replies.Then Xavier’s name lit up in the chat.> Xavier: “Can you just let us off for a week! ”The laughing emoji might as well have been a blade.He could respond here, joke around with everyone… yet he c
MELISSA’S POVThe next morning, I woke up feeling… lighter.No headaches. No tightness in my chest. No weight pressing down on me like the day before.Just sunlight peeking through the blinds and a quiet hum of peace in the silence of my room.It felt foreign.Maybe because I wasn’t used to peace lasting longer than five minutes. But as I sat up and stretched my arms above my head, I realized something—I wanted to keep this feeling.Yesterday had been chaos.From the social media storm to the overwhelming flood of emotions, and Xavier… him stepping in like that. Honestly, I didn’t know how to process it.I’d spent half the night overthinking his post, trying to dissect every word, every sentence. Was it all for the internet? Was he just trying to salvage the situation for PR? Or… did he mean it?And if he did—why? Why go that far for me?I still didn’t have the answers. Maybe I never would. Maybe it didn’t matter.Because today wasn’t about Xavier.Today was about me.I had something
MELISSA’S POVI sat cross-legged on my bed, the glow of my screen casting a bluish hue on my face. The chaos online had simmered down, and if I were being honest, it had very little to do with me. It was Xavier. His words. His post. The way he shielded me like I was something worth protecting.And I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.It didn’t make sense—not completely. Not after the way he acted at the dinner. The distance. The quiet tension radiating from him. The way he avoided eye contact like I was something fragile or tainted.So why did he defend me so fiercely?I stared at our last message thread, my thumb hovering over the screen.Earlier today, I saw his post—how he stood up for me in front of the entire world. He called me his girlfriend. Told everyone to back off. Even made a joke about sending that guy to the ancestors. And it worked. The internet changed its tune almost instantly. The comments were softer. Supportive. Kind.But now, with everything quiet around me, a
MELISSA'S POVI was still reeling from the email.The glow of being nominated as a finalist for Miss England hadn’t worn off yet. It still didn’t feel real. I’d read the message over and over again, as if the words might vanish if I blinked too hard. Even with the chaos that had clouded my morning, that one email had felt like a hand reaching down and lifting me from the mess.For the first time in days, I felt light.Hopeful.I had been smiling, hugging a pillow to my chest, letting the idea of Miss World, cameras, gowns, interviews, and finally making something mine swirl around in my head—when my phone vibrated again.Just one name popped up.Xavier Kesh.And I froze. It wasn’t a text. It was a post.My thumb hovered over it for a few seconds, my pulse flickering at my wrist. I wasn’t even sure what I was bracing for—an announcement? A cryptic caption? A quiet unfollow?But when I tapped on it… I saw his face.And everything inside me unraveled.It wasn’t just the way he looked on