Old married couple

Viana's pov.

A hush fell over the room, all the other girls pretending not to watch but clearly waiting for my reaction.

I forced myself to shut my locker with a sharp click, keeping my face calm. “Good thing I know how to draw lines, then.”

Her smile faltered for a beat, then returned sharper. “We’ll see.”

I walked out before I said something I’d regret.

*******

By the time I slid into my literature class, I was still simmering. The universe must have had a twisted sense of humor, because the professor announced group projects—partners assigned at random. My partner? Alvin Monroe.

Of course.

He strolled in five minutes late, hockey bag slung over one shoulder like he owned the place. When he dropped into the chair next to me, I could practically hear the collective sighs of half the class.

“Looks like we’re partners, step-sis,” he murmured, lips curving into that infuriating smirk.

“Don’t call me that.” I shot him a glare.

“What? You don’t like labels?” He leaned back, stretching his legs out so far his knee brushed mine. “Fine. Partner.”

The professor handed out the assignment sheet, but Alvin barely glanced at it. Instead, he twirled a pen between his fingers, looking bored.

“We’ll need to divide the work,” I said, scanning the paper. “This is worth thirty percent of our grade, so I don’t want—”

“Relax.” His voice was smooth, mocking. “You really think I’m going to tank my grade? I’ve got this.”

“Got this?” I snapped. “You don’t even know what the project is about.”

He leaned closer, eyes glittering with amusement. “That’s what you’re for. You read, I charm. Teamwork.”

My blood boiled. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re uptight.”

Our bickering drew chuckles from nearby desks. I could hear someone whisper, “They fight like an old married couple.”

My face burned, and not just from embarrassment. Because the truth was, sitting that close to him, feeling the heat of his body, catching the faint scent of sweat and cologne—it did something to me. Something I didn’t want to admit.

I pushed my chair back an inch, breaking the proximity. “Let’s just get this done.”

He smirked, but I caught the way his eyes lingered on me a second too long before turning back to his pen.

After class, I thought I was free. Wrong again. Marissa was waiting by the door like a nightmare waiting for me to fall asleep.

“Hey, Viana,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet. “Got a minute?”

I stiffened. “Not really.”

She ignored that, stepping into my path. “Look, I get it. New girl, new town, new… family.” Her gaze sharpened. “But you need to understand something—Alvin and I? We have history. You can’t just waltz in and act like you matter.”

My pulse spiked. “You think I want him? Please. He’s your problem, not mine.”

Her smile turned nasty. “Just remember that.”

She sauntered off, her ponytail swinging like a weapon. I let out a shaky breath, vowing not to let her get under my skin.

Later that afternoon, Emily caught up to me in the quad, looping her arm through mine like we’d been best friends for years.

“You’re coming to practice today,” she declared.

“I don’t—”

“Nope, not an option. My dad already knows I’m dragging you. You need school spirit.”

That’s how I found myself at the hockey rink, the cold air biting at my cheeks as players thundered across the ice. Alvin was in his element—fast, precise, magnetic. The girls in the stands screamed his name, and I tried not to roll my eyes.

Then it happened.

“Hey, new girl!” One of the players skated by the glass, grinning. “You here to cheer for me?”

A couple others chimed in, tossing flirty comments, winks, even blowing kisses. My face flushed. I wanted to sink into the bleachers.

But Alvin noticed.

His jaw tightened, and the next second, he slammed into one of the guys who’d called out to me, sending him sprawling across the ice. The rink erupted in shouts as the coach blew the whistle furiously.

“Monroe! Off the ice! Now!”

Alvin stormed to the bench, yanking off his helmet. His eyes flicked to me—dark, burning.

Emily nudged me, whispering with a grin, “Someone’s jealous.”

“He’s not jealous,” I muttered, though my heart was hammering. “He’s just… an egomaniac.”

"If you say so." She sang.

I thought that would be the end of it, but no. After practice, as I was heading out of the rink, Alvin caught me by the arm.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded, eyes blazing.

I yanked free. “What was what?”

“You, sitting there, letting them flirt with you like that.”

I stared at him. “Excuse me? I didn’t let anyone do anything. Maybe you should focus on your game instead of policing me.”

He stepped closer, voice low, dangerous. “You don’t get it. Those guys—”

“Are your teammates, not my babysitters,” I snapped. “You don’t own me, Alvin.”

The air between us crackled, hot and sharp. We were inches apart, my back nearly brushing the wall, his shadow falling over me. His chest rose and fell hard, his eyes fixed on mine.

For one dizzy second, I swore he was going to kiss me. My body leaned before my brain could stop it, drawn to him like a magnet.

Then he pulled back, cursing under his breath. “You don’t understand anything.”

He stalked away, leaving me breathless, angry, and far too aware of the heat still lingering where his body had been.

And the worst part?

I wanted him to come back.