Sinful cravings for my hockey step brother

INTRO:

Viana’s POV

Have you ever had life sucker-punch you so suddenly that the ground feels like it’s tilting beneath you?

Not the dramatic kind,not the kind you scream about in movies. The quiet kind. The kind that settles in your chest and won’t let go, no matter how fast you run.

That was me.

I’d spent the last year trying to outrun a past that kept turning up like a bruise—my father’s death, moving to a new town, the way everything familiar rearranged itself without asking how I felt about any of it. One minute I was a girl fighting for a future, trying to earn her spot in a world that didn’t hand things out.

The next, I was packing up my old life, forcing myself into a new one, with a new family I never asked for.

So I made a promise to myself: stay focused. Stay invisible. Stay in control.

Simple.

But college had its own plans, and trouble had a name—and apparently, a smug mouth, a perfect jawline, and a talent for ruining peace without even trying.

I just didn’t know it yet.

Not until the day everything shifted.

Not until the moment our front door opened, and the chaos swallowed me whole.

~•~

CHAPTER 1

The dining hall was pure chaos. Lunch trays slammed against the tables, loud boisterous laughter bounced off the walls, and someone had just spilled soda across three tables without even flinching. Sports kids were bouncing and throwing balls everywhere hitting innocent bystanders who demanded apology or just walked away sheepishly. College was no different from highschool, just slightly harder courses, much more freedom and space big enough to encourage the worst decisions.

It took me a lot to get here, one of the biggest colleges in the country with scouts in every corner looking for the next great mind to take under their wing and mold them into something amazing. My major was biometrics engineering and it's one of the top ten hardest majors to get into and I was the first in my town to do so. Sleepless nights, multiple tutors and extra classes, I did everything possible even putting myself in the hospital and getting diagnosed with chronic fatigue in the process but I did it.

I sat by the window with my laptop open, highlighter tapping against my notebook like a metronome. ‘Constantly focus.’ That was my rule this year. Keep my scholarship, stay invisible, and have no distractions.

It was working very well until the noise shifted and all eyes turned to a particular spot.

A ripple went through the room, heads turning, whispers sparking like a fuse. I didn’t even need to look to know who had just walked in. The air practically announced his presence.

Alvin Monroe. The hockey team’s star, the school’s walking ego trip, and every girl’s favorite mistake. He was the person every girl wanted and every guy wanted to be. A poor choice of role model in my opinion.

I made the mistake of glancing up as he passed. He strolled down the center aisle like the place was his runway, his teammates trailing behind him, girls nearly tripping over themselves for a smile. He had that annoying laugh, the kind that said life was a joke only he was in on and the rest of us were just stupidly taking it seriously.

But why would he take anything seriously, he has everything and anything everyone wanted. He had fame and not just in the university but in several cities round the country. He had magazine covers that were painted in his face, blog and fan clubs created to adore him. He has clubs ready to take him once he graduated from a college, a successful father who was very influential. He had everything and so the rest of us had to struggle and work hard for what he got easily.

I dropped my eyes back to my notes. Nope. Not today. Not this ever. Alvin Monroe wasn’t even going to register on my radar.

“Hey, Carter.”

My pen stilled in motion. I looked up slowly, and sure enough, there he was, a tray in his hand, that cocky smirk plastered on his annoyingly perfect face.

“Didn’t think this was your scene,” he drawled. “Don’t you usually have your nose buried in a book?”

A couple of people nearby chuckled. My neck burned, but I forced a smile sharp enough to cut his stupid smirk. “And don’t you usually have a girl glued to your arm? Must’ve lost one on your way over.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second, before it bounced back even brighter. Without asking, he dropped into the chair across from me, like I had been waiting for him all along.

“Guess I’ll have to bother you instead,” he said, leaning forward, his elbows on the table.

I gripped my pen tighter. This was supposed to be my semester of peace. My semester of control. But with Alvin Monroe smirking across from me, I knew one thing for certain peace was officially cancelled.

"I have work to do so I need you to leave me be."

"Nahh, I can't do that after all our MOM told me to keep you safe."

I stilled at his emphasis. "Stop it Alvin. We are at school right now I don’t want any form of attention.”

"You want to deny our relationship in public? But have you forgotten exactly what we are, huh step sis?"

*************

A week earlier.

The girls locker room always smelled faintly of sweat and floral body spray, a weird mix of ambition, eye service and vanity. Girls were clustered in front of the mirrors, brushing lip gloss over already shiny mouths, talking about the only subject they ever seemed to care about.

“Did you see Alvin in practice today?” one gushed, her voice bouncing off the tiled walls.

“He’s insane on the ice. Like… the way he moves—ugh.”

“I swear, if he even looked at me, I’d faint.”

I rolled my eyes and shoved my bag into the bottom locker I’d been assigned. Alvin Monroe again. He was everywhere, on the ice, in the cafeteria, in their conversations, now leaking into mine. I wasn’t going to feed it. I wasn’t going to be one more voice sighing his name like he was untouchable.

Instead, I reached for the one thing that always steadied me.

Tucked in the corner of my bag was a small picture frame that was a little worn at the edges from being carried around too long. I set it gently on the shelf inside my locker. Ten-year-old me stared back, all crooked teeth and tangled hair, wedged between my mother’s poised smile and my father’s wide laugh.

The memory came too fast for me to stop it.

The hospital room had been too bright, too cold. Machines beeped in frantic rhythm, nurses shouting orders I didn’t understand. My father clutched his chest, gasping, while my mother sobbed, begging him to hold on. I had been frozen, too young to move, too terrified to blink. Then the alarm screamed so loud it pierced my eardrums, the nurses pushed us back, and my mother’s cries turned sharp and broken as she was dragged from the room.

That was the moment I learned death doesn’t ask permission before taking anyone away. One second, and everything you know can vanish into thin air.