جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 10

ELLIOT POV The air inside the arena was freezing, but sweat was dripping down the back of my neck. I settled the puck on the heel of my stick, took two crossover steps to open up my angle, and snapped a wrist shot toward the top right corner of the net. Thump. The puck hit the precise spot where the water bottle sat on top of the crossbar, sending it flying onto the ice. "Calculated as always, Sorelli," a loud, arrogant voice echoed across the empty rink. "Too bad real game defenders don't stand still and let you measure your angles." I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. I would recognize that obnoxious, booming voice anywhere. Adrian Kessaro skated into my peripheral vision, his red captain's jersey loose over his broad chest. He didn't just skate onto the ice; he took up space, radiating that reckless, infuriating energy that had made my blood boil since primary school. "I measure my angles so I don't waste energy blindly throwing my weight around like a bull," I

CHAPTER 3: ADRIAN The collar of my tuxedo felt like a wire wrapped around my throat. I stood at the front of the chapel, right beside my father, pulling subtly at my bow tie. The place was packed with family, friends, and half the coaching staff from our team. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, making the whole setting look like something out of a fake, picture-perfect movie. "Fix your posture, Adrian," my dad whispered under his breath, leaning his head toward me while keeping a tight, nervous smile on his face. "And stop adjusting your tie. You look like you're about to jump out of your skin." "I'm fine," I muttered, locking my hands behind my back. In the front row, Mason and Jace were grinning like complete idiots. Mason caught my eye and gave me a ridiculous two-finger salute, mouthing, 'Look at the best man,' while Jace buried his face in his hands to stifle a laugh. On the opposite side of the aisle sat Noah Ellery, dressed in a sharp grey suit, looking c

CHAPTER 5: ADRIAN The screech of rubber blades on wet ice echoed through the arena, but all I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears. During our three-on-three scrimmage, Elliot had completely ignored my call on the left wing. Instead of passing to me, he pulled the puck back, executed a tight drag, and took a shot himself. It hit the crossbar and bounced out, giving the opposition an easy breakaway. The moment Coach blew the whistle, I skated right up to him, digging my blades into the ice so hard a spray of frost kicked up over his skates. "I was wide open on the flank, Sorelli!" I yelled, pulling my helmet off and shoving it under my arm. "You pass the puck when the captain calls for it!" Elliot didn't even blink. He unclipped his chin strap, his dark eyes cool and utterly unimpressed. "Your defender was trailing two feet behind you. If I passed, it would have been intercepted. My shot was the higher percentage play." "You missed!" I roared, taking a step closer. "You c

CHAPTER 7: ADRIAN'S POV My hand was still burning where I had touched his.I leaned against the sink in the downstairs bathroom, gripping the porcelain until my knuckles turned white, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My jaw was clenched so tight my teeth ached.He hadn't even flinched, not even a bit.I had given him everything, walked down the stairs bare-chested, crowded his space, placed my hand over his, and whispered right into his ear. Any normal person would have at least blinked, pulled away, or shown a second of hesitation. But Elliot Sorelli had just sat there, looking at me like I was an annoying bug he wanted to swat off his laptop screen.You're trying way too hard, captain.His cold, mocking words echoed in my ears, making my blood boil. He thought it was a cheap routine. He thought I was just putting on an act to steal his focus.He had no idea that touching his skin had almost made my own chest explode. He had no idea that when I leaned down, smelling the clean

CHAPTER 9: ELLIOTThe flashbulbs in the media lounge were practically blinding.I sat at the long press table, taking a quiet sip from my water bottle while Noah answered a reporter’s question about our defensive system. I was focused, composed, and ready for game day.Then Adrian sat down in the empty seat right next to me.He adjusted his microphone, completely unbothered by the loud chatter in the room. He was wearing a dark grey dress shirt with the top two buttons intentionally undone. And there, sitting prominently on the right side of his neck, was the dark red bite mark I had left in our kitchen yesterday.He hadn't covered it with makeup. He hadn't pulled his collar up. He was wearing it like a bloody trophy.I clenched my jaw, staring straight ahead, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking at him."Adrian! Over here!" a beat writer from the city paper called out, waving a recorder in the air. "Great to see you leading the squad for another opening night. But the int