Page 3

KATERINA

Where is it? Panic flutters in my chest as I rummage through my bag, my fingers digging through layers of fabric and loose items.

My breath quickens.

No, no, no.

It has to be here.

Then, finally, my fingertips brushed against the familiar cool metal.

Relief washes over me as I pull out my necklace, the delicate gold pendant catching the dim overhead lights.

I clasp it around my neck, my shoulders sagging as the muscle tension eases.

Grandma Anastasia gave this to me before she passed away.

A tiny figure skater etched into the pendant, symbolising her unwavering belief in me.

She was my biggest supporter and the reason I am where I am today.

Before every practice, I make sure I’m wearing this necklace.

Some might call it superstition, but it’s a reminder to me—a connection to the woman who always saw my potential, even when I doubted myself.

I take a deep breath, slip my headphones in, and secure my headband to keep them in place.

The world outside fades, replaced by the steady rhythm of music filling my ears.

Practice is gruelling, but Camilla praises Alexei and me for our performance.

We ran through our routine four times, and although there’s room for improvement, the fire inside me is back—the hunger, the need to be better.

Now, it’s just me and the ice.

The arena is empty.

The fluorescent lights hum softly, casting a cool glow over the pristine ice sheet.

I exhale, step onto the frozen surface, and push off.

As I gather speed, my blades carve smooth lines into the ice, and the familiar adrenaline rush makes my heart race.

I move through my elements, landing a few jumps with ease.

The ice welcomes me back like an old friend.

But just as I gain momentum, something solid collides into me.

I don’t have time to react before hitting the ice, a sharp sting spreading through my right hip and shoulder.

Pain lances through me as I wince, brushing the shredded ice off my leggings.

“What the hell?”

I mutter, disappointed at myself for falling.

I look up—and my breath catches.

Dark eyes. Sharp jaw.

Raven-black hair.

The most devastatingly gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen stands before me, amusement dancing in his gaze. He’s all lean muscle and raw intensity, displaying an almost infuriating confidence. His lips are moving, but there’s no sound hitting my ears. I snap out of my daze, pulling out an earbud.

“What?”

“You should watch where you’re going, Goldie.”

His voice is smooth, with the slightest rough edge at the end, like he’s always a second away from smirking. I scowl.

“Can’t you watch where you’re going? I could’ve sliced you open with my skate blades.”

He crouches slightly, extending a hand toward me. “Don’t worry, angel. I can handle a skate-blade.”

I ignore the way his lips twitch as if he finds this amusing.

“I’m not an angel,”

I muttered, gripping his hand. He pulls me up effortlessly, his strength sending another unwanted jolt through me. His chuckle is low, teasing.

“No? Then what should I call you?”

“Nothing.”

I glare, pulling my hand back. “I was here first. If you don’t mind, I’d like to return to my solo practice.”

He doesn’t move. He crosses his arms, his gaze flicking to my chest before meeting my eyes again.

“The rink’s open to both of us, angel. I’m not going anywhere.”

My patience snaps.

“I don’t care. Go practice somewhere else.”

His smirk deepens.

“Check the timesheet, sweetie. I have this time-slot reserved for the rest of the season. It's right here, every day, at the same time.”

My jaw tightens.

“You reserved this time slot?”

He nods in response. I want to scream. I need this ice time—every second counts. I huff. “Fine. Whatever. You got your way this time.”

I say, skating backward toward the exit. As I step off the ice, I can feel his gaze still on me, burning into my back. God, he’s insufferable. And I already know—I will hate every second of knowing him, but I will enjoy seeing him. Why is it always the hot ones with a crappy attitude?

The house is quiet when I step inside. Three pairs of eyes snap at me as I approach the living room. “Kat, you’re back,”

one of the guys says. It takes me a second to recognise him. I saw him briefly earlier—tall, dark hair, mischievous smirk. Did Will tell him my name?

“I’m Roman,”

he says, patting his chest once, then continues, ”That’s Grayson.”

gesturing toward another guy on the couch. “And you already met Will. Our team captain, Aiden, will be here soon.”

Will leans back on the couch,eyes still on his game. “So? What’d they say?” I sigh, dropping my bag.

“Looks like you guys are stuck with me for six months.

They said I could stay here or defer a semester, and that’s not happening.”

Will grins.

“Hell yeah! We need a girl around here—one that isn’t Roman’s latest mistake.”

“Booty call,”

Roman corrects.

“Oh,”

Roman adds. “Someone delivered your stuff earlier. We put everything in your room. I hope you don’t mind.”

My mouth parts slightly in surprise. “You did what?”

Will shrugs. “It was mostly Roman. He got excited about a girl moving in.” I shake my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

Three hours later, my room is finally starting to feel like mine.

I have hung my clothes, made my bed, and added the perfect softness to my mattress topper. My bookshelves and trophy shelves are missing, but I’ll get to that later. My phone rings, and I reach towards my nightstand, grabbing it.

Jake.

I hesitate before answering, putting in my headphones. “Hey, Jake,”

I say, hoping the call ends quickly.

“Hi, Kat. Are you okay?”

I sigh, rubbing my temple. “Yeah. Why?”

My brows dip in confusion. Does he already know about the housing situation?

“I heard about the housing situation. It’s unacceptable. I was going to come down tomorrow, talk to the Dean, maybe get you your place—”

“No.”

My voice is firm. How did he find out so soon? Is he going to be breathing down my neck the whole semester?

“Please, don’t. I just unpacked, and I’m not moving again. Plus, having a little male influence in my life is refreshing, considering I haven’t had any all my life.”

The silence stretches between us before he exhales.

“Are you sure, Katerina?”

I know he is trying, but knowing my every move and not giving me space will not fix our relationship.

“I’m sure.”

A knock at my door pulls my attention. “Hold on,”

I say before opening it.

Will stands there, arms crossed. “Hey, uh… there’s a guy outside. Says he’s delivering a car.”

A sinking feeling settles in my stomach. I mute Jake before storming outside. I feel my blood boil when I see the sleek black Jeep parked in our driveway.

I quickly unmute the phone, “Are you serious? What the fuck, Jake? I told you not to throw money at me! You weren’t there for twenty-one years, and now you think you can buy me?”

I abruptly end the call before he can respond.

The delivery guy clears his throat and steps forward with a clipboard. “ Miss, I need you to sign so I can drop off the car.”

I drag a hand down my face. “Can you take it back?”

My voice is softer now, and exhaustion is creeping in. “I’m sorry, but it’s been paid off already.”

Of course, it has. I huff out a breath, sign the damn papers, and watch as the delivery guy sets the keys on top of the paperwork he laid on the hood of the car before driving away. Silence lingers as I go back inside, the boys watching me with varying degrees of concern. Well—three of them.

Standing there, leaning against the door, is the guy from the rink. What is he doing here?

Roman is the first to speak, walking over with a glass of water and handing it to me, “You okay?”

I nod, taking a sip. “Just frustrated. I can’t believe my dad would do this shit.”

Roman observes me.

“Touchy subject?”

I nod, swirling the water in my cup. “Very.”

He hesitates before offering, “Well, if you need someone to talk to, me and the guys are here for you.”

A deep, familiar chuckle comes from behind me. I whirl around—and of course, it’s him.

“You,”

I breathe, staring at him in disbelief. The smirk on his face is infuriating.

Oh my god.

Is he my fourth roommate?

This cannot be happening.

The jerk leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes flick over me, and that infuriating smirk tugs at his lips. “You seem surprised, angel face.”

I blink, my brain short-circuiting. “You live here?”

I ask, pointing around the house.

“Clearly.”

His voice is smooth, dripping with amusement. “Try to keep up.”

I open my mouth, then quickly shut it. Of course, he lives here. Of course, the cocky, ice-stealing, smirking jerk is my fourth roommate. The universe must genuinely hate me. Roman clears his throat behind me, watching the scene unfold like prime-time entertainment.

“Sooo… I take it you two know each other?”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Unfortunately. We met right before he kicked me off the rink.”

My eyes catch a muscle twitch in his arm, and I hover over it, noticing how defined and strong they are.

“Whoa, whoa.”

Roman’s brows shoot up. “Aiden, tell me you didn’t.”

Aiden. That’s his name. The Jerk feels more fitting, but I won’t fault his parents for that. Aiden just shrugs. “She was in my time slot.”

I glare at him.

“Anyone can use the rink, asshole. You don’t fucking own it.”

Roman whistles while Will and Grayson chuckle. Aiden’s eyes darken slightly, but the corner of his mouth quirks up.

“I own it when I reserve it, Goldie.“ I scoff, brushing past him and storming inside the house. I can hear him chuckling behind me, his voice carrying easily. “This is gonna be fun.”

I head straight to my room, my blood still simmering. Of all the hockey players I could’ve been forced to live with, it had to be him. He’s such an arrogant ass. And worst of all, I find him unbelievably hot anyway. The way his muscles tensed when he leaned against the doorway, and his tattoos curled around his biceps—ugh. Why did he have to look like that? I groan, flopping onto my bed pressing my hands to my burning face. This is going to be the longest six months. A sudden knock at my door causes me to jolt up.

“Go away,”

I call. The door swings open anyway—because, apparently, boundaries are just a suggestion in this house. To my relief, it’s Roman, not Aiden. Not that I wanted it to be Aiden.

Roman holds up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, not the enemy. Just came to check in.”

I sigh, relaxing my shoulders. “Sorry. I just- this day has been a lot.”

Roman nods, stepping inside and leaning against my desk. “Yeah, I can tell. You wanna talk about it?”

I hesitate, then exhale.

“It’s my dad, Jake. He-”

I pause, searching for the right words, ”he wasn’t in my life until recently, and now he’s trying to throw money at me. Like that’ll magically fix everything.”

Roman tilts his head. “The car outside?”

I nod. “I didn’t ask for it. I don’t want it. But he thinks expensive gifts make up for years of not being my father.” Roman stays quiet for a moment, then shrugs. “You could sell it.”

I blink. “What?”

He grins. “Sell it. Donate the money. Or keep it for yourself. If he wants to play the ‘rich, guilty dad’ card, at least you should benefit.”

I snort. “That’s actually… not the worst idea.”

Roman taps the side of his temple. “Genius, I know.” I shake my head, smiling slightly. Roman’s easygoing, playful energy is precisely what I needed after the nightmare of a day.

“You know,”

he says, crossing his arms, “Aiden’s not that bad.”

I scoff. “He is that bad.”

Roman chuckles. “Nah, he’s just… rough around the edges. Give it time. You might like him.” I arch a brow. “Doubt it.” That is what I say, but I mean when hell freezes over.

“We’ll see, Kit-Kat,”

he smirks. I grin at the nickname, pointing at him. “You heard my friends calling me that at the rink, didn’t you?”

Roman shakes his head in denial as he grins at me, “What? I just made that up right now.”

I laugh at his sarcasm, feeling better after talking to him. I think Roman and I will be good friends.

“But since Aiden kicked you off the ice earlier, I might have a way to fix that.”

I raise a brow, intrigued. “Go on.”

“He gets that extra hour because he volunteers to teach kids to skate at six a.m. They’re looking for more volunteers; if you sign up, he has to share the rink with you. He can’t kick you out.”

Aw, the asshole has a heart. A slow grin spreads across my face. “Roman, you just earned mega brownie points.”

With that, Roman heads for the door, throwing me a wink before disappearing into the hallway. I exhale, flopping back onto my bed. Aiden. Jake. This ridiculous housing situation. I just wanted ice time, not a damn soap opera. I close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe deeply. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up. I’ll skate. I’ll focus. And I’ll prove to Jake, Aiden, and myself that nothing will stand in my way. Not even a cocky, insufferable hockey captain with a face that could ruin lives.