Chapter 18
Luna
I think I’m dreaming.
Or dead.
Or dreaming while dead?
Do dead people dream? Wait, never mind.
Whatever I’m lying on right now feels like actual heaven. It’s so soft and warm, I’m pretty sure my soul has melted into it. Don’t get me wrong, the mattress at school is nice, but this is magical.
I stretch slowly, toes curling under the blanket.
Every muscle in my body is loose, like I’ve been floating.
God, can I stay here forever? No early practice.
No pressure. Just this bed and maybe some chocolate pancakes.
A soft moan slips out before I can stop it.
My brain barely remembers where I am until someone clears their throat.
My eyes snap open.
Zayden’s leaning against the doorway. His locs are loose, falling messily around his face.
“Morning.” His voice is raspy, like he hasn’t used it yet this morning. It’s illegal how good-looking he looks this early in the morning. I probably look like a hot mess.
I sit up way too fast, and the blanket falls off one shoulder. I blink at him like I just got caught doing something inappropriate.
Which I guess I kind of did.
“Morning.”
A beat of silence stretches between us as I remember the soup, the couch, the blanket, and the jersey I’m still wearing. How I fell asleep with my head on his chest and he carried me to bed.
I glance at him, and he’s watching me like he’s remembering last night, too.
“We should probably head back,” he says finally, pulling away from the doorway. “Heated ground’s kicked in. Roads should be good.” He turns to leave. “We leave in five minutes. I’ll warm up the car.”
He disappears down the hall, and I faceplant back into the mattress and groan. I reach for my phone on the nightstand, and the battery is dead.
By the time I’ve put my clothes back on and brushed my teeth, he’s already waiting for me by the door.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod as he opens the door, and the cold hits the second we step out. Above us, the sky is gray with thick clouds. Valcérre mornings don’t come with golden sunrises or soft pastel skies.
The snow is mostly gone now, melted into wet streaks. A fucking underground heating system, so genius.
Zayden walks ahead, opens the passenger door, and waits. The Jeep is also cleared, steam rising from the exhaust.
I slide in without a word, and the door shuts gently behind me. The heat is already running, and the seat is warm beneath me as I fasten my seatbelt. Zayden gets in and buckles his seatbelt.
“Do you mind if I use your charger? Phone’s dead.” I hold my phone up at him.
He nods toward the extra charger cord, and I plug it in.
“Do you like pop music?” He glances over at me.
I nod, a little surprised that he asked.
Zayden scrolls through his phone, tapping on something before putting it in the cup holder.
A few seconds later, a soft beat fills the car, and it takes me less than a second to recognize the song.
“August” by Taylor Swift.
I blink, then laugh.
He glances over at me. He’s not laughing or smiling, but his expression has softened a little.
“I just didn’t take you for a Taylor Swift fan,” I say, still smiling.
He lifts an eyebrow. “God forbid a guy have good taste.”
I laugh again. “You’re a weird guy, Zayden Aldenhurst.”
“We’ve established that already.” The corner of his mouth twitches slightly, like he’s fighting back a smile.
My phone takes a few minutes to power on, but when it does, everything starts pouring in.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Dozens of notifications flood my screen, texts, group chats, Instagram tags.
LAS chat:
Sophie: Luna, where tf are u?
Annika: pick up your phone.
Sophie: Why am I going to voicemail?
Annika: OMG are you ok?
Sophie: Please, tell me you’re okay.
Sophie: Have you seen the video? Is this from tonight?
Sophie: Call me, plz.
@valcerreskating reposted a video
@valcerregossip: New couple alert or something else?
@MidnightIce tagged you in a video
I click on the page, and there’s only one post, and the caption says:
Hockey Boy vs Ice Princess.
There we are, me and Zayden, skating together at the Shadow Rink. The camera’s far off, but the video is clear enough to know it’s us. The way we move, the way we look at each other, it’s not subtle.
I go still. “Zayden…”
His phone lights up, too. “Shit,” he mutters, pulling over to the side of the road.
We sit in silence for a second while the video plays between us again, looping like a carousel.
16,021 views.
5,728 likes.
403 comments.
I click on the comments.
Wait… since when does Zayden Aldenhurst SKATE like that?
Bro’s not just a hockey player. That footwork? That’s figure skating precision.
Tell me I’m not the only one who felt the tension in this.
Hockey Boy got moves. Who knew?
Look at the way she hits that toe spin like she’s flying.
She’s not just good, she’s olympic good.
They’re so in sync, it’s lowkey terrifying.
Okay, but how long have they been skating together, and why did no one know??
Are they secretly dating?
I thought they hated each other.
I look over at him. “Who filmed this? And why?”
He doesn’t answer, just stares at the screen.
Then another notification pops on my screen from the anonymous sender.
Unknown Number: Ellias Vaughn.
I stare at the words, heart suddenly pounding in my ears. I look over at Zayden again, and he received it, too.
“Zayden,” I whisper. “Who the hell is Ellias?”
“We’ll talk later,” he says, pulling away from the side of the road.
“Later, when?”
He finally looks at me. “Find me after practice, behind the athletic building.”
I nod as I stare at the window, watching the snow-covered trees blur past us.
We pull up in front of my dorm, and Zayden puts the car in park. Neither of us says anything for a while. I glance over at him. His hands are on the wheel, and he’s staring ahead.
I go to open the door, but before I can step out, his hand grabs mine across the console.
When I turn to look at him, his gaze is already on me. His eyes say a thousand things he doesn’t say out loud.
I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this.
I don’t know how to protect you from what’s happening.
And mine tell him that I don’t want to leave, that I don’t want to step out into the chaos waiting for me outside of the car. I want to go back to the cabin. Back to listening to Billie together, to falling asleep on his chest, back to that moment that felt like a little piece of home.
His fingers tighten around mine.
You’ll be okay.
I step out of the car, and when I turn around, he’s already gone.
I don’t even register the walk up the stairs or the stares, as I make it through the students’ lounge area. But as I scan my key card, stepping into my suite, a voice breaks through my foggy brain.
“Where were you?” Sophie storms toward me, panic written all over her face, and my stomach sinks. “You disappeared after the showcase. Nico thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere. I almost called Rylee to tell her something bad happened to you.”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “I just needed to clear my head.”
“For almost twelve hours?” Annika says gently, stepping forward. “Without telling anyone?”
I open my mouth, then close it. My throat is dry, and my heart’s still trying to catch up with everything.
“And the video?” Sophie thrusts her phone at me.
The video.
Zayden and I skating together like we know each other.
“You’ve been sneaking out with Zayden after you repeatedly told us you hated him,” Annika adds.
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“You’re literally in his jersey.” Sophie gestures at my chest like it’s a betrayal. “What the hell, Luna?”
I shake my head. “Nothing happened.”
“You expect us to believe that?” Sophie stares at me.
I look at both of them, their eyes full of questions, and I feel like the worst friend in the world.
“I was with Zayden, okay? But I swear… it’s not what you think. I’ll explain after practice.”
Sophie stares at me.
Annika’s brows pinch together. “You’re okay, though?” she asks softly. “Really?”
I nod, even though I’m not. “Yeah… Can we talk after practice? Please?”
Sophie looks like she wants to keep grilling me because she knows I’m holding back. But then her expression softens. “You scared the hell out of us, babe.” She steps forward and wraps her arms around my shoulders. Annika joins in from the side, and suddenly I’m wrapped up in both of them.
For a second, I just let myself breathe. Let myself feel it, even if I still can’t tell them everything.
“I’m fine,” I whisper. “I promise.”
They pull back, studying me like they don’t believe me, but they’re letting it go, for now. I’m so thankful for that, because I don’t want to drag them into something I don’t understand myself.
“Practice,” Sophie says again, wiping under her eye like she’s not emotional. “After that, I want answers.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Okay.”
But the truth? I don’t even know what the answers are yet.