Chapter 1 The Ice King

DAPHNE POV

There are girls who have celebrity crushes.

Mine just happens to live thirty minutes away and still hasn't noticed I exist.

Right now, the entire arena is losing its mind over some hockey player they keep calling the Ice King. Ice Man. Frozen Guy. Whatever. I couldn't care less. I probably should care because Professor Alan assigned me to cover him for my journalism project, and if I screw this up, he'll happily hand me another terrible grade to match my already sinking CGPA.

Instead of recording the game like a responsible journalism student, I'm on Instagram stalking Asher. The man I've been obsessed with for years, shamelessly stalking and liking every single one of his posts.

Asher and I are two completely different people. His parents are filthy rich. He’s so handsome it hurts sometimes to look at him too much knowing you’ll never have him. But God! He’s so hot. I zoomed in on his bulging biceps again, then the stupid smirk on his lips.

Holy fuck! He's just so daddy.

"Daphne! He just scored and you didn't even record it!" Elena yelled, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"What?" I hurriedly switched from Instagram to my camera. "Really? Which one is he again?"

Elena slowly turned to look at me like I'd just insulted her entire family.

"You're joking.”

"I'm not." 

"You’re serious, I thought you read his player profile." 

"I opened it." I said, shrugging my shoulders.

"And?" She pressed, looking at me like she’s ready to whoop my ass with whatever my answer will be.

"I got bored."

She groaned dramatically, rubbing a hand down her face. "You don't even know what he looks like?"

"I know he's... tall? Just freaking show me!”

"Oh my God." She pointed toward the far end of the ice. "That's him."

I lifted my camera and finally found him. The rest of the Westbridge Vipers were celebrating after taking a 2-1 lead. He was standing alone.

This is my second time here, the first time was when Asher came to my school to watch one of the games, so I had to come so I could get a glimpse of him. I don't know shit about hockey but I know it's dangerous and they use it as an excuse to beat people up. It's a form of violence and I hate violence.

"Why is he like that?" I asked, zooming the camera on him.

"Like what?" She asked.

"Like he had better things to do." The iceman just scored, he was the one who scored but he didn't even celebrate with his team, he was already skating away like it's a normal occurrence.

"That's Ice King for you, Daphne." She said, clutching her heart like she's seeing her god.

"I thought you said his name is Iceman?" I narrowed my eyes on her.

"I said Ice King! He's called Ice king, not Ice Man, if you're going to interview him at least get his nickname right." She snapped angrily.

"Oh.." I mouthed, confused. Elena was about to talk my head off again but the whole arena erupted in celebration.

"Oh my God, he scored again!" Elena screamed, nearly shaking my arm off.

Everyone around us was on their feet. Through my camera I watched someone slam straight into him. I actually flinched, Ice King didn't. He stole the puck back, skated past another defender and scored again like getting hit didn't even register.

The crowd lost its mind.

"Ice king! Ice king!! Ice King!!!"

"That's Ice himself!"

"Let's fucking go king!"

Everybody praised him. And through my camera the one thing that genuinely baffled me was the fact that this Ice King didn't react to any of it. While others are removing their helmets, yelling and doing shout outs to the audience. This man didn't do shit, he's just standing there, his arms are crossed. Like he couldn't care less. 

That was weird.

And for some reason, it made me even more convinced getting an interview out of him was going to be impossible.

Which was fantastic, considering my grade practically depended on it.

I'm a freaking D student. Between classes, work and trying not to lose my scholarship, my life is already a complete mess. I'm trying every single thing just to get my grades up before the end of the semester, for example watching this game l don't even like. I can't afford to lose my scholarship.That's my only way out. The only chance I have of getting my mom and me out of this mess. 

The last thing I need is Professor Alan failing me because the Ice King has the personality of a refrigerator.

He assigned everyone an athlete to write about, and apparently this Ice King is the most important of them all. Captain of the hockey team. Projected top-five NHL draft pick. Senior in his final season.

He's also supposed to be impossible to interview.

I read the file Professor Alan gave me. I can't even remember his real name on the file.

Forgive me, I can learn that later. There were only three photos of him. One paragraph. No interview notes. No quotes. Nothing except stats and a list of awards and a warning that

"King doesn't do press."

The game went on, and every single time the puck touched Ice King's stick, it almost never left. Players kept throwing themselves at him, checking him into the boards and hacking at his stick.

He barely reacted.

Every second I spent focusing on the game I was getting nauseous. I seriously don't understand hockey. How do people enjoy watching grown men beat each other up for fun? Do they get off on pain or something?

After what felt like forever and Elena yelling in my face, the final buzzer finally sounded.

Thank God.

The crowd exploded one last time.

Players celebrated with the fans, banging their sticks against the glass and waving to the crowd.

I pulled my phone down and scanned the ice for the Ice King while the others were celebrating and shaking the fans and students, the girls swooned over them. I watched as he finally removed his helmet, and I blinked when I saw his face. 

I've never seen anything colder. He has blue eyes. They looked practically dead. His blonde hair is in a buzz cut that had no business making him that good. 

My body went on alert the moment I saw him sneaking away taking another route different from his teammates. I quickly gathered my stuff.

"I will see you later, El." I told my friend, fishing out my small cheap microphone from my bag.

"Where are you going?" She asked, confused.

"The interview duh." I told her.

"What? You're seriously going to interview him?"

"And you thought I sat here the whole time because hockey is the love of my life or any of these players happened to be Asher?" I rolled my eyes at her. "Professor Alan is going to kill me if I don't bring back something useful before the week runs out."

"He's going to kill you anyway. King doesn't do interviews, not even ESPN could get one."

I gave her a sheepish smile, "never say never.If I indeed get an interview with him, I might even save my grades." I slung my bag over my shoulder. "See ya."

"You're going to embarrass yourself."

"Maybe."

The moment I realized I'd almost lost sight of the Ice King disappearing down the tunnel, I tightened my grip on my microphone and ran after him.