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20. He's Mine
publish date:
2026-04-10 02:01:47
Latest chapter
Cold Friction 24. Room 214
JULIANStepping off the bus felt like waking from a three-hour fever dream. My legs were heavy, stiff from the cramped seating and the phantom heat of Kael's thigh, still burning against mine. I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder, keeping my expression locked behind an impenetrable mask of captain-like stoicism as we filed into the cheap upstate hotel. The lobby smelled of stale coffee and old carpet, a stark contrast to the luxury of the Sterling estate. Coach Miller stood by the front desk, slapping keycards onto the laminate counter as the team huddled around. "Alright, listen up!" Miller barked, his voice echoing off the cheap wood paneling. "Curfew is ten sharp. I catch anyone wandering the halls, you're benched for tomorrow's game against the Spartans. Grab your keys and get out of my sight. Vance, Sterling. Room 214."I snatched the plastic keycard from the counter without a word, turning on my heel and heading for the stairwell. I could feel Kael following me. The heavy, m
Cold Friction 23. Agonizing Friction
JULIANI stood by the luggage compartment, mechanically checking off the mental roster of my teammates as they shoved their duffel bags into the undercarriage. My muscles were still tight from yesterday's grueling practice, but the real exhaustion was buried much deeper. It was a psychological fatigue, anchored behind my eyes, born from a 3 AM macroeconomics study session that had completely shattered my understanding of Kael Sterling.We were about to embark on a three-hour drive for our away game against the Spartans. And I needed just that. I needed the brutal simplicity of a three-hour bus ride to Duluth, the sterile environment of a hotel room, and the objective reality of the ice. I needed to reset the board. I stepped onto the bus, the blast of the heater instantly warming me up after the crisp outdoor air. I headed straight for my usual spot—the solitary double seat near the back, a silent captain's privilege I had claimed since sophomore year. But as I walked down the narro
Cold Friction 22. A Truce
JULIANThe numbers on my laptop screen blurred, together.3:14 AM. The grandfather clock in the study ticked so loud it felt like a hammer against my skull. I rubbed my eyes, trying to force my brain to process the Advanced Macroeconomics assignment. It was useless. My brain was saturated, running entirely on black coffee and sheer, stubborn willpower.Midterms were approaching, and I was completely unprepared. Between leading the Falcons, grinding through extra ice time to secure my NHL draft spot, and navigating the suffocating minefield of my new family dynamic, my carefully planned life was falling apart. Every time I closed my eyes, my traitorous mind didn't conjure formulas or hockey plays. Instead, it flashed back to the dark hallway at the party. I could still feel the heavy, intoxicating weight of Kael pressing me against the wall. I could still feel the dangerous slip of my own control before I had violently shoved him away. I had drawn the battle lines that night. I had
Cold Friction 21. Live Wire
KAEL "Don't," he warned. His chest heaved under his tight gray t-shirt. The scent of him hit my senses, making the buzz in my head spike into something far more dangerous. I didn't listen. I never listened. I stepped right into his space, crowding him against the edge of the kitchen island. The air between us instantly thickened, sparking with that invisible, violent current that had been tormenting me since the day we met. "Or what?" I taunted, my voice dropping to a gravelly murmur. I reached out, slapping my palm flat against the marble counter right next to his hip, effectively caging him in. "You going to give me extra laps at five in the morning?" Julian’s breath hitched. He tried to lean back, but the edge of the counter dug into his spine. There was nowhere to go. "You're drunk, Kael. Back off." "I'm barely buzzed," I murmured, leaning in closer. My eyes dropped to his mouth, tracking the slight part of his lips, before dropping lower. The pulse at the base of his
Cold Friction 20. He's Mine
JULIAN The muffled, rhythmic thud of the bass vibrated through the floorboards of my bedroom, a relentless physical reminder of my failure. I sat on the edge of my mattress, staring into the dark, my hands still balled into tight, white-knuckled fists. I had walked away. I had retreated to my room rather than give Kael the violent, unhinged reaction he was fishing for downstairs. My discipline was my armor, but right now, it felt like a straitjacket. The party was still going. I could hear the faint sound of glass shattering somewhere on the first floor, followed by a chorus of drunken cheers. My jaw ached from how hard I was clenching my teeth. I needed water. I needed to cool the frantic, burning pace of my own heart before I tore my room apart. I unlocked my door and slipped out into the dimly lit hallway, taking the back servant’s staircase to avoid the main foyer. The sprawling estate Richard had bought was a labyrinth of marble and mahogany, making it easy enough to n
Cold Friction 19. Beautiful Chaos
KAELThe bass from the sound system was vibrating through the entire estate and rattling the imported crystal in my father’s absurdly ostentatious chandelier. My father and Sarah had left for a weekend getaway in Aspen, taking their suffocating, newlywed bliss with them. The moment the tires of his town car had crunched down the gravel driveway, the estate had settled into a sterile, breathless silence. It was the kind of silence my father demanded. The kind of silence Julian thrived in. I gave it exactly four hours before I decided to burn it down. I leaned against the marble island in the sprawling kitchen, a red plastic cup halfway to my mouth, watching the chaos unfold. Half the campus had shown up, flooding the pristine, minimalist hallways with the stench of cheap beer, sweat, and cheap perfume. A makeshift beer pong table had been set up over Richard’s custom mahogany dining table. Someone was currently spilling vodka onto a Persian rug that cost more than a luxury sedan. I
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