Chapter 6
Luna
By the time the lecture ends, I’m starving.
My first Intro to Psychology was supposed to be interesting.
I like the topic when I’m not thinking about food.
I forgot to eat breakfast thanks to my lovely little confrontation with Zayden.
My stomach started growling so loudly halfway through the lecture that I’m pretty sure the girl next to me heard it.
Thank you, Zayden.
I grab my bag and follow the other students out of the lecture hall, into the hallway, and toward the bridge that connects the science building to the main campus.
My only goal right now is food, and my stomach growls in agreement.
“Okay, I get it.” I pat it like that will calm it down.
I step off the bridge and into the main campus, past the library, heading straight to the dining hall, and then I freeze the moment I step inside.
Students gather around square wooden tables beneath grand chandeliers and high vaulted ceilings. The large windows offer a picturesque view of the snowy mountains in the distance.
Everyone looks like they belong here, and it’s…intimidating as hell. I probably look lost as I stand frozen near the entrance until I spot a familiar face.
“Luna!” Annika waves at me with a big grin, and a sigh of relief escapes me.
We’d gotten close during orientation week when she and Sophie showed me around campus. I learned her mom’s Black and her dad’s Korean and an automotive billionaire. But Annika? She’s chill, real, and funny.
I make my way toward her, taking the seat across from her.
A few seconds later, Sophie slides into the spot next to her, rocking her uniform—cool-gray blazer over a white button-down shirt, blue, gray, and gold plaid pleated skirt, and black knee-high boots.
First- and second-years wear slate-blue blazers, while third- and fourth-years wear cool-gray ones.
I know what you’re thinking. Why are we wearing uniforms like we’re still in secondary school?
Apparently, it’s a way to show tradition, unity, and excellence.
That’s what the handbook says, anyway. As if dressing the same can erase the power games and politics happening underneath.
We all know this is just another mask we’re all expected to wear while pretending not to drown.
“Well, look who survived her first morning,” she says, settling into her seat.
“Barely.” I sigh dramatically.
She leans in, resting her chin on her hand. “So? How was practice and your first class?”
I groan, louder this time, letting my forehead hit the table. “A freaking disaster.”
Annika snorts. “That bad, huh?”
“I got called an ice princess by some cocky hockey player like all I do is twirl around in circles or something.”
Both girls blink.
Sophie sits up straighter. “Wait. Who?”
I lift my head just enough to glare at the table. “Zayden. Freaking. Aldenhurst.”
That name gets a reaction.
Sophie’s brows shoot up. “Wait, he talked to you?”
“More like insulted me in front of his team.”
She and Annika exchange a look. Sophie leans in, dropping her voice. “You don’t get it. Zayden doesn’t talk to people like that. He barely talks at all.”
I flop back in my seat, rolling my eyes to the ceiling. “Lucky me.”
“I’m serious, Luna, if Zayden talks to you, it’s because he likes you.”
I think she missed the part where he insulted me, but okay.
Ignoring her, I pull out my phone to order lunch. This is my top priority right now. Yes, this is Valcérre. No standing in line. You order your food on your phone, and they bring it to your table.
Sophie continues. “Like, damn, you got the attention of Valcérre’s hot, broody hockey star on your first day. Do you know how many girls around here have tried and failed to get him to even look their way?”
I groan. “They can have him. I’m not interested. I freaking hate the guy.”
Sophie smirks.
Annika snorts, clearly not buying it. “Hmmm.”
Before I can even tap confirm on my order, the air shifts, not colder or warmer but heavier somehow.
My thumb stills on my phone screen. My breath hitches, and a strange warmth flutters low in my stomach, as if my body knows something I don’t.
I look up instinctively, and there he is.
Zayden freaking Aldenhurst.
He walks in, commanding the room without trying. His locs are tied back with a few strands falling loosely around his face. Somehow without scanning the room, his eyes land on me, as if he knew exactly where to look.
We hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds.
A pulse beats hard in my throat. Heat crawls across my cheeks, and I’m hyperaware of how fast my heart is racing, how breathless I feel for absolutely no reason.
I frown, forcing my eyes back to my phone and confirming my order.
Annika leans forward, raising an eyebrow. “Okay! What was that?”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb, Luna. We saw how you two stared at each other. That didn’t look like two people who hate each other,” Sophie says, grinning.
Annika shrugs. “You felt that, though, right? That weird tension or whatever that was?”
“No,” I lie. I did, everywhere, on my skin, my chest, my pulse. “The only thing I felt was hate. I hate him so much that my skin boils whenever I see his stupid face.”
Annika snorts into her water. “That’s what we’re calling it now? Hate?”
Sophie reaches for my hand. “Babe, this is a lot of hate, considering you guys just met. Sure, he was a jerk, but there’s something more going on here.”
I pull my hands away from her, mad for no reason. “There’s nothing else going on.”
Sophie leans back. “If you say so.”
I sink lower in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. I want to argue, but the truth is I have no fucking idea what’s going on.
But I don’t have time for whatever this is.
I’m here to focus on my skating and make it to the Olympics.
Not get distracted by a hot, brooding, hockey boy—who I hate, by the way.
The presence of someone beside me breaks me out of my spiraling thoughts. An older woman in a black uniform places a tray in front of me with a grilled chicken and quinoa salad bowl and a bottle of sparkling water.
Everything here is so fancy, even the way they serve food like we’re in a five-star restaurant, not a university dining hall.
I take a forkful of my quinoa and bring it to my mouth, chewing it slowly. It tastes good, even when my appetite is gone. I’ve already skipped breakfast, and I can’t afford to skip lunch. After this morning’s training, my body needs the fuel.
Then everyone goes quiet.
What now?
I look up as she walks in like she owns the damn school.
Anastasia Angelov.
Valcérre’s very own ice queen. Three-time national champion. Her gray blazer fits her like a designer piece, and her long platinum-blonde braid swings down her back. Her black knee-high boots click against the dark wood floor.
Anastasia’s mother was an Olympic champion, and her grandfather’s name is on the training complex.
She ignores everyone’s attention and boldly makes her way to Zayden’s table. Her eyes move between me and Zayden, who’s been staring at me.
Anastasia perches against his table, leaning close to his ear with a playful smile. Probably saying something flirty. Zayden nods but says nothing. He barely even looks at her.
“Oof. That’s cold,” Annika says.
I look over at her as she pretends to sip her drink instead of watching the interaction between Zayden and Anastasia.
Sophie chuckles. “She’s been trying to get his attention forever.”
I shove another bite of quinoa into my mouth like I’m definitely not watching or counting the seconds she lingers at his table.
She says something else, but Zayden doesn’t respond as he pushes his chair back and walks away without glancing at her, or anyone.
Anastasia watches him, confused, before turning and heading toward our table.
“Uh…What’s she doing?” Annika’s eyes go wide.
“I think she’s coming over.” Sophie straightens her blazer.
“She’s not—” I start, but then she’s right here.
She doesn’t look at Sophie or Annika. Only me. “Luna, right?”
I blink. “Yeah, hi.”
“I’m Anastasia, welcome to Valcérre.” Her lips curve into a too-sweet smile. “I heard what happened at the athlete’s lounge.”
I guess word travels fast around here. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Hmmm, Zayden doesn’t usually talk to people, let alone first years.” She tilts her head as if she’s thinking it over. “I get it, you’re still new and don’t know how things work around here yet.”
Translation: You don’t belong here.
I bite back the words that want to slip out, giving her a polite smile back. I hope my face doesn’t betray me and she doesn’t see the eye rolls I’m giving her in my head.
She lets the silence stretch before adding, “Anyway, I just thought I’d say hello. It’s always nice to meet someone new on the ice.”
With that, she turns and walks away.
Sophie grins. “Well, look at you.”
I pick up my sparkling water and take a long sip.
“You’ve been here for two minutes, and you’ve already caught the attention of the ice queen and the hot, brooding hockey star.”
Annika laughs. “Honestly? That’s kind of impressive.”
“I’m not hungry anymore.” I gather my things and push off the chair. “I’m going to the library before my next class.”
They exchange a quick glance before standing and grabbing their things.
“Let’s go.” Sophie loops her arms through mine.
Annika slings her bag over her shoulder as she walks beside me. She’s the shortest of the three of us, barely five feet three inches.
We pass through the arched doors, down the hallway, and leave the dining hall behind us.
Sophie is right. It’s day one, and I’m already caught in the middle of whatever this is.
I’m here to skate, everything else is a distraction.
Focus, Luna.