Vein on Ice Heart on Fire

MELISSA'S POV

"Brown! Move your feet!"

Coach's voice cut through the ice, but I didn't flinch, I was already used to this side of him.

I moved the skate, shifted my weight while dropping my shoulder, and executed a clean left cut. Number fourteen was there, but he wasn't a problem. He never was.

I'm Melissa Brown, one of the best hockey player you'll ever see.

And I don't say this to boast, but this wasn't my first victory, and it damn sure wouldn't be my last.

"Mon Dieu! (Ohh my gosh)" someone from the French bench muttered as I slipped through their defense smoothly.

A smirk tugged at my lips. What did they expect?

"Melissa!" Xavier's voice sounded across the ice.

I raised an eyebrow but kept my focus. Xavier never knew when to shut up, always barking orders like he was the captain.

"Back right!" he screamed again, making me scoff.

I already knew the reason he was trying to tear his vocal cords. Without looking, I flicked the puck backward in a perfect pass.

His stick caught it with a satisfying clack, and a heartbeat later, the crowd erupted.

Goal.

I didn't celebrate. I never did. If I celebrated every time I won, I'd be celebrating all damn day. Instead, I skated back to center ice and waited for the puck drop, my face a mask of cold focus.

Xavier coasted over, grinning like the devil himself. "You're welcome," he said, that cocky smirk plastered across his face.

I didn't look at him. "You mean I passed you the puck."

"Teamwork, baby."

My glare was cold. "Don't call me baby."

He laughed, the sound rich and infuriating. "You're so grumpy when we're winning."

"I'm always grumpy."

He winked. "Right."

I didn't respond, I just took my position and waited for the whistle, too focused to get distracted by his games.

By the third period, the score was 4–1. England was crushing it.

Coach screamed from the bench. Fans roared until their voices went hoarse. The commentator kept yelling my name like he'd finally learned how to pronounce it correctly.

"Melissa Brown with another clean steal!"

"Unbelievable! She's cutting through the French defense like a blade!"

Xavier shot me a look as we lined up for another faceoff. "You're showing off now."

"I'm winning," I shot back.

"You like playing with me. Admit it."

I rolled my eyes and skated past him, but he wasn't wrong. We did work well together, too well.

His fire and my ice created something unstoppable. He was one of the few people I actually enjoyed playing with. Maybe the only one. When we clicked, we were untouchable.

When the final buzzer sounded, we'd won 8–1.

The English section of the arena erupted. Fans jumped to their feet, screaming until their faces turned red.

Xavier was beaming, flashing that perfect sexy smile, that always made the girls and cameras swoon over him.

But I didn’t smile, I just lifted my stick once and skated off.

There wasn't any need for that, no need at all.

As I skate off, I heard Katrina screaming from the bleachers making me roll my eyes. “GO, BABY! THAT’S MY MAN!”

I heard Xavier chuckle as he pulled off his helmet, sweat-damp hair falling into his eyes in a way that was annoyingly photogenic. He jogged toward her like some romantic movie hero.

She met him halfway, throwing herself into his arms and kissing him right there in front of everyone like they were the star-crossed lovers in some cheesy movie.

I kept walking toward the locker room. I didn't care if they decided to put on a full show right there on the ice. Really, I didn't. Why should I?

..................

The locker room reeked of sweat and victory. I unzipped my jersey and tossed it onto the bench, my chest still heaving from adrenaline, but my mind already shutting down the noise.

"Yo, Mel," Liam grinned, yanking off his pads. "Saw you drop that guy in the second period. Thought he was gonna cry."

"He elbowed me in the gut," I muttered, pulling off my gloves. I hated when people thought they could push me around because I was a girl.

"Still," Brandon added, shaking his head in admiration, "never seen anyone check someone like that. That was cold and brutal." I shrugged.

"Someone tell her to smile," Jay laughed. "We just won!"

"Melissa? Smile?" Liam scoffed. "She's basically a robot. No emotions."

I rolled my eyes and started unlacing my skates.

"Come on, Brown, say something cocky. You earned it."

"I'm the best," I said flatly. Everyone burst out laughing.

"You're such a little shit," Brandon grinned.

"And you all love me for it," I replied, deadpan.

They did. They might joke about my attitude, but they all knew I was the backbone of this team. I wasn't just the only girl, I was the best player they had.

When I first tried out, they all thought I was messing with them, that I wasn't serious.

Coach actually laughed before his face went serious, telling me I had no idea what I was getting into. Said it was too dangerous, too aggressive, that I'd get hurt.

But I was adamant. I knew what I wanted, and I always got what I wanted. They let me stay because they had no choice after I outplayed half their roster in tryouts.

I proved them wrong. Over and over again.

I was the youngest player to join the national league, held the fastest skating record, and had more assists than half the team combined.

............................................

Dinner was held in the hotel ballroom, all fancy tablecloths, crystal glasses, and silverware that clinked too loudly.

Everyone looked uncomfortably clean after hours of being sweaty warriors on ice.

I sat in the middle, between Jay and across from Connor, our goalie.

Xavier was farther down the table with Katrina practically glued to his side. She wore one of those tight mini skirts and his England jacket draped over her shoulders like a claim of ownership.

She was laughing too loud at everything he said, holding his hand like he was some kind of trophy.

He didn't seem to mind. Why would he? She was his girlfriend.

The thought made me stab my fork into the roasted chicken with more force than necessary.

"Hey," Connor said, tapping the table near my plate. "You okay?"

"Fine."

"You were incredible today," he continued, his voice taking on that tone guys used when they were working up to something. "That pass in the third period was pure genius."

"Thanks." I kept eating, hoping he'd take the hint.

He leaned closer. "You ever... uh... go out after tournaments?"

"No."

Jay snorted beside me. "Good luck with that, man."

Connor ignored him, pressing on. "Just wondering if maybe sometime we could grab a drink. You don't even have to talk much."

"I'm not interested." I tried to keep my voice level, really tried not to be harsh.