Chapter 2: The Stolen Kiss

CLARA’S POV

The freezing night air slapped my heated face the second I pushed through the heavy glass exit doors, but it did nothing to cool the fire burning in my chest.

Ethan’s cruel laughter still echoed in my ears. Every single word was a poisoned needle digging straight into my pride.

“Go find someone else.”

“Have your fun.”

“Come back to me when you realize nobody else wants you.”

My fingernails bit into the palms of my hands as I marched across the icy concrete of the arena parking lot. 

My vision blurred for a split second with furious, unshed tears, but I blinked them away with savage force. I refused to cry for a coward who couldn't even keep his hands to himself for seven days.

Under the buzzing amber glow of the parking lot floodlights, a small group of guys stood lounging around a sleek, matte-black sports car.

They wore the dark navy and silver varsity jackets of the Tier-A hockey team—the elite squad. 

The guys who played in the international showcases. The ones Ethan constantly cursed under his breath because they were everything he wished he could be.

And right in the center of them stood Jaxon Vance.

Even leaning casually against the driver side door with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, Jaxon was an imposing figure. 

Broad-shouldered, tall, and effortlessly lethal, he looked every bit like the captain who dominated the ice and terrorized opposing defensemen. 

His dark hair was slightly messy from practice, and his sharp jawline was set in that trademark expression of cold indifference that kept almost everyone on campus at a respectful distance.

He was Ethan’s ultimate rival. Ethan hated Jaxon with an obsession that bordered on madness. 

Whenever Jaxon’s name came up, Ethan would sneer about how Jaxon had everything handed to him on a silver platter—the money, the starting position, the scouts.

Nobody else wants you, Ethan had said.

A reckless, dangerous wave of adrenaline surged through my veins. It swallowed all my logic and burned away every shred of caution.

Before my brain could stop my feet, I changed direction and marched straight toward the matte-black car.

The crunch of my boots against the gravel drew the attention of the Tier-A players. One of the defensemen, a blond guy with a permanent grin, nudged his teammate. 

The casual chatter among them instantly died down as they saw a girl storming toward them with murder in her eyes.

Jaxon looked up.

His dark, piercing eyes locked onto mine. He didn't move an inch, but I saw the subtle shift in his posture, the slight tightening of his shoulders as he watched me close the distance between us.

Three feet. Two feet. One foot.

I stopped right in front of him. Up close, he towered over me, smelling faintly of cold night air, expensive cedarwood cologne, and fresh ice.

He opened his mouth to say something, but I didn't give him the chance.

I reached out, grabbed the thick leather lapels of his varsity jacket with both hands, and yanked him down.

Jaxon let out a sharp breath of surprise, but he didn't pull away.

I stood on my tiptoes and smashed my lips directly against his.

The entire world seemed to stop spinning. Around us, someone dropped a water bottle, the plastic clattering loudly against the pavement. A collective gasp rose from his teammates, followed by dead, suffocating silence.

My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. At first, it was just pure fury driving me, an impulsive collision of lips meant to make a statement. 

But the moment Jaxon’s shock wore off, the dynamic shifted entirely.

His body went completely rigid for half a second before a low, gravelly sound rumbled in the back of his throat.

Instead of shoving me off or pushing me away, Jaxon’s large, warm hands came up and gripped both sides of my waist. His touch was firm, steady, and dangerously electric. 

His fingers dug lightly through the fabric of my coat, pulling me flush against his solid chest, steadying me on my feet.

He didn't just let me kiss him. He kissed me back.

His lips moved against mine with a slow, deliberate heat that sent a jolt of lightning straight down my spine. 

It was commanding yet strangely gentle, taking the raw, chaotic energy I had thrown at him and anchoring it with quiet authority. 

For a brief, dizzying second, the freezing cold vanished, replaced by the warmth of his mouth and the intoxicating scent of his skin.

My breath hitched. Panic instantly collided with the adrenaline in my bloodstream.

I abruptly broke the kiss, pulling back just far enough to breathe. My hands were still gripping his jacket, my knuckles white, my chest heaving up and down.

Jaxon didn't let go of my waist. His dark eyes were blazing, completely dilated, staring down at me with an intensity that made my knees feel weak. 

He looked slightly disheveled, his lips parted and glistening under the amber streetlights, but his gaze was sharp and intensely focused.

He looked at my face, really looked at it. His eyes flicked to the faint redness around my eyes, the slight tremble in my chin, and the furious pulse beating wildly in my throat. 

The cold arrogance he usually wore dissolved into something dark, guarded, and intensely protective.

I had to finish what I started. I had to say it out loud so there was no turning back.

"Will you be my boyfriend?" I blurted out.

The words tumbled out of my mouth in a rush, desperate and jagged.

Behind Jaxon, his teammates looked like they had just witnessed an alien landing. 

One of them had his hands clamped over his mouth, and another was staring with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Holy shit," someone whispered. "Did she just..."

Jaxon didn't look at his friends. He didn't even blink. His thumbs brushed lightly against the curve of my waist through my coat, a quiet gesture that somehow kept me grounded when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.

He looked at me as if he were trying to read every single thought inside my head. There was no mockery in his expression. 

No cruel smirk like the one Ethan always wore. Just a deep, unreadable fire that made my breath catch in my throat.

"You really want this, Clara?" Jaxon asked. His voice was low, rough, and sent a shiver straight through me.

Hearing my name roll off his tongue with such familiarity sent a shock of confusion through my chest. 

We had never spoken before. We ran in completely different circles. How did he know my name?

Before I could question it, Jaxon leaned down slightly, his face mere inches from mine.

"Because if you're asking," he murmured, his voice dropping into a tone that was only for me to hear, "the answer is yes. Deal."

The word hung in the cold night air between us, heavy and terrifyingly real.

A wave of sudden, suffocating reality crashed over me.

What had I just done?

I had just grabbed the most intimidating guy on campus, kissed him in front of his entire squad, and roped him into a relationship based on nothing but spite.

The adrenaline that had carried me out of the locker room drained away in a flash, leaving behind pure, unadulterated embarrassment. 

My cheeks flared with heat. My fingers released their death grip on his jacket as if the leather had turned to red-hot iron.

"I... I have to go," I choked out.

I tore myself out of his grip, stepped backward, and almost tripped over my own boots. 

Jaxon reached out a hand instinctively to steady me, his brow furrowing in concern, but I was already turning on my heel.

I didn't wait for another word. I broke into a full sprint, running across the parking lot and out toward the campus walkways as fast as my legs could carry me.