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Cold Friction

Cold Friction

MM Romance
last updateTerakhir Diperbarui : 2026-04-17
Oleh:  Crystal MyronOngoing
Bahasa: English
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Sinopsis

Fast-Paced Plot

Contemporary

Golden Boy

Arrogant

Campus

Forbidden Love

Hate to Love

Julian Vance is the disciplined, fiercely proud captain of the university ice hockey team. His sworn enemy is Kael Sterling, the arrogant and explosive star player of their rival school. When a brutal game ends in a locker room confrontation, a dangerous bet sparks a dark obsession. But the stakes shatter when Julian's mother and Kael's father unexpectedly marry. Now, forced to live under the same roof and play for the same team, their fierce rivalry turns into an agonizing forced proximity. Society's rules dictate they are forbidden, and their mutual hatred demands they stay apart, but the electric tension between them refuses to be ignored. As the ice melts and boundaries blur, Julian and Kael must decide if their forbidden connection will cost them their dreams, or if surrendering to each other is the ultimate victory.

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Bab 1

1. The Final Buzzer

Ivy Rivers and I had been married for three years, yet we still hadn't registered our marriage legally.

Today marked the milestone of her 1,000th successful flight. It was also the 17th time she'd promised to finally register our marriage with me.

But at the celebration banquet, while her direct supervisor was forcing drinks on me, she was busy exchanging dishes and toasting with her male pilot apprentice.

Despite my high fever and drinking to the point of near collapse, she didn't even look my way. Numerous coworkers shook their heads and clucked their tongues, their eyes filled with sympathy as they regarded me.

Anyone with eyes could see who I was enduring this physical discomfort and drinking for. Yet after the celebration banquet ended, Ivy, who was supposed to go with me to City Hall to register our marriage, stood me up once again.

She drove the car to the restaurant entrance and blocked me from getting in with one hand.

"Owen drank a little too much on my behalf just now, so I'll be driving him home. You should take a cab back. We probably won't make it to City Hall this afternoon. Let's talk about it another day, okay?"

After saying this, she didn't care about my reaction at all. She hurriedly got out of the car and carefully helped Owen Gardner into the passenger seat.

We started dating eight years ago, and had been married for three years. This was already the 17th time Ivy had postponed our marriage registration because of Owen.

Usually at times like this, I would have broken down, shouting, arguing with her and demanding answers. Who exactly was her husband? Who had just been drinking on her behalf?

But this time, I just smiled slightly. "Alright, be careful on the road."

Ivy paused at my words, seemingly surprised by my calm attitude today. After a moment, she returned to her cold demeanor. "I'll buy you a gift to make up for it when I come back tonight."

With that, she drove off. Before leaving, she made a point of closing the car window for Owen, afraid the drunk man would catch a cold from the wind.

In the past, she'd never allowed any smell of alcohol to linger in her car. Every time I drank for her, she'd open the convertible top even in winter, let alone close the windows.

Looking back now, it was only because the person in the car was me. The noon heat in Orlion made people sweat profusely, but my heart felt inexplicably cold.

I took a deep breath and returned the marriage application forms to my bag. I knew it was time to let go of this eight-year relationship as well.
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24 Bab
1. The Final Buzzer
JULIAN The cold was a living, breathing entity. It burned the back of my throat with every ragged pull of oxygen, settling deep into my lungs sharp and cold. Ten seconds. The scoreboard suspended high above the center ice glared down in unforgiving crimson. My university team, the Falcons, trailed by one agonizing point. The roar of the packed arena was a deafening tidal wave, but I tuned it out. I had to. Discipline was my religion; the ice was my church. Here, beneath the blinding halogen lights, there was no room for emotion. There was only the objective. But the objective was currently being guarded by the devil himself. Kael Sterling. Even through the scuffed plexiglass visor of my helmet, Kael’s dark, mocking eyes found mine. He wore the black and silver jersey of the Vipers, our bitter rivals, but he wore it like a king draped in armor. He was arrogance incarnate, a volatile, explosive star player who treated the rink like his personal hunting ground. He was everythin
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2. Stepbrothers
JULIAN The drive back to the city was a blur of neon streetlights and freezing rain. I gripped the steering wheel of my beat-up sedan, trying to focus through the haze in my head. I needed to think about the draft. I needed to think about my mother. She had sacrificed everything for me. After my father walked out when I was barely a year old, she had worked double shifts at a diner just to afford my first pair of hockey skates. Every bruise I took, every hour I spent grinding on the ice, was to repay her. To finally give her the life she deserved. I pulled into the valet of Le Petit Château, an upscale restaurant in the heart of the city's wealthiest district. The valet attendant looked at my rusted car with disdain, but I ignored him, tossing the keys and heading inside. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration. My mother had been seeing someone serious for the past year, a wealthy businessman she met while working at a high-end catering event. I had never met the man; my brutal h
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3. The Devil’s Table
JULIAN “Stepbrother.” The word hung in the air, sharp and heavy. I stared at Kael, my brain going blank. The ambient noise of the restaurant, the clinking of fine crystal, the low murmur of wealthy patrons beyond the heavy oak doors, faded into a dull rush in my ears. My chest tightened, the bruised ribs from his hit on the ice throbbing in time with my pulse. For three years, Kael had been a nightmare confined to the rink. An explosive, chaotic force I only had to survive for sixty minutes at a time. Now, he was standing in my mother’s new reality, stepping into the one part of my life I had kept sacred. “Ah, you boys are already acquainted?” Richard’s booming voice cut through the silence. He looked between us, a pleased, oblivious smile resting on his face. I couldn't speak. My throat had gone dry. The control I relied on was slipping. Kael’s eyes, dark and gleaming with quiet amusement, never left mine. He stepped fully into the room, bringing that familiar scent of winterg
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4. The Iron Cage
JulianThe rain on Sunday morning was a relentless, freezing downpour, washing the city in a dismal shade of grey. It hammered against the cracked windshield of my sedan, the rhythmic, grating squeak of the worn wipers doing little to clear the glass. I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned a bloodless white. My bruised ribs throbbed a dull, agonizing tempo in time with the engine’s uneven idle, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the suffocating tension inside the cramped cab of the car. The air was thick, heavy, and completely toxic. It smelled violently of wintergreen, and expensive cologne. "You're taking the turn too wide, Captain," Kael drawled from the passenger seat. I didn't look at him. I kept my eyes locked on the sleek, pristine taillights of Richard’s black Bentley two car lengths ahead of us. "Shut up, Sterling."Kael let out a low, gravelly chuckle that vibrated through the small space, scraping against my frayed nerves. He shifted his weight
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5. Crossed Lines
JulianThe heavy oak doors of the Sterling estate opened me to a new world entirely.Stepping into the sweeping foyer was like stepping into another dimension. The air inside smelled of fresh lilies, lemon polish, and old, untouchable money. A massive crystal chandelier hung suspended from the vaulted ceiling, casting a cold, brilliant light over pristine white marble floors. I stood frozen on the threshold, rain dripping from the hem of my worn grey hoodie, pooling at the toes of my scuffed boots. In my right hand, I gripped the strap of my battered CCM hockey bag; in my left, my taped stick. They were the only things anchoring me to reality. "Leave your bags right there, Julian," Richard boomed, clapping his hands together as he shrugged off his tailored overcoat. A silent, uniformed housekeeper immediately appeared to take it from him. "The staff will bring them up to your room. I insist.""I've got it, sir," I replied, my voice flat, tightening my grip on the canvas strap. The t
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6. Locker Room
JulianThe blaring alarm on my phone disrupted the silence at four-thirty in the morning, but I was already awake. I hadn’t slept. Not for a single second. I had spent the entire night staring at the slate-grey ceiling of my new gilded cage, listening to the phantom sound of water running through the pipes of the shared wall. The frosted glass door of the Jack-and-Jill bathroom remained deadbolted, but the heavy, suffocating scent of wintergreen and dark cologne had seeped under the doorframe, poisoning the sterile air of my bedroom. I threw off the heavy charcoal linens, my bruised ribs protesting the sudden movement. I didn't shower. I didn't even turn on the lights. I dressed in the dark, pulling on a faded grey hoodie and my dark jeans, moving with the rigid, mechanical efficiency that had kept me alive for twenty years. By five-fifteen, I was pushing through the heavy double doors of the university ice arena. The biting, absolute zero chill of the rink hit my face, an
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7. A Crack in the Ice
Julian The ice was supposed to be my sanctuary. A pristine, frozen battleground where the rules were absolute and chaos was swiftly punished. I stepped out of the tunnel, the freshly sharpened blades of my skates biting into the cold sheet with a satisfying, violent *shhhhk*. The biting zero-degree air hit the back of my throat, clearing the suffocating fog that had clung to my brain since I woke up in that gilded cage. I blew my whistle, the shrill blast echoing off the empty bleachers, cutting through the low murmur of the team. "Bring it in!" I barked, my breath pluming in the freezing air. The Falcons swarmed the center circle, their skates carving deep grooves into the ice. They moved with the synchronized obedience I had drilled into them for a year. Every player stopped exactly where they were supposed to, forming a tight, disciplined ring around me. Then, Kael stepped onto the ice. He didn't hustle. He didn't fall into line. He simply glided out of the tunnel with t
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8. Captain's Meeting
JulianThe air in the locker room was thick with the smell of sweat, athletic tape, and tension. I stood at the center of the Falcons’ crest painted on the rubber floor, my jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. It was 5:00 AM, a full hour before Coach Miller was scheduled to arrive for morning ice, and the entire roster was seated on the wooden benches around me. Everyone except Kael. I had made sure to call this captain’s meeting before my new, infuriating stepbrother rolled out of his custom king-sized bed at the estate. My hands were still shoved deep into the pockets of my team track jacket, hiding the slight tremor that hadn’t entirely faded since yesterday’s disaster. Letting Kael get under my skin on the ice in front of the whole team had been a catastrophic lapse in my discipline. It was the first time in three years my control had slipped that badly, and the terrifying part was how close I’d come to shoving him when I realized he'd deliberately sabotaged our drill.I couldn'
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9. Surviving Him
Julian It was 2:00 AM. I lay flat on my back in my excessively massive bed, staring up at the vaulted ceiling. My muscles ached with a dull, familiar throb from the morning’s disastrous practice, but my mind was a chaotic, spinning centrifuge. I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I was slammed back into the cramped, humid space of the locker room. I could feel the cold metal of the lockers biting into my spine. I could feel the unbearable, radiating heat of Kael’s body pressing against mine. I could hear his low, gravelly voice mocking the frantic rhythm of my pulse. "You don't have a pulse, Julian." He'd once said. But he was wrong. He was so incredibly wrong it terrified me. My pulse was all I could hear now, drumming a frantic, syncopated beat against my eardrums. The perfect discipline I had spent years cultivating—the armor that protected me, that kept me focused on the NHL draft and my future—was fracturing. And Kael was the one holding the hammer. I threw off t
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10. First Scrimmage
Four hours. That was all the sleep I’d managed after fleeing the kitchen of our estate. Even then, my brief, fractured dreams had been a suffocating loop of dark eyes, the phantom heat of a large body trapping me against a marble counter, and the cloying, toxic scent of wintergreen. My ribs throbbed a dull, relentless rhythm beneath my heavy chest protector as I stepped out of the tunnel. Every breath of the zero-degree air felt like swallowing crushed ice. I welcomed the pain. It was a grounding mechanism, a sharp, physical reminder to rebuild the iron-clad walls Kael Sterling was systematically trying to dismantle. *If I win, you'll be at my command.* The memory of his low, gravelly voice proposing that sick wager echoed in my skull, making my grip on my composite stick tighten until my knuckles turned a bloodless white beneath my gloves. I had to focus. I was the captain of the Falcons. I had an NHL scout to impress, a team to lead, and a discipline to maintain. Coach M
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