My Best Friend Sister Is My Worst Nightmare

Reid’s Pov

The ice doesn’t lie.

It doesn’t pull petty school pranks, it doesn’t cheat on you with the asshole gunning for your captaincy, and it sure as fuck doesn’t care about your social media following.

On the ice, you get exactly what you put in.

That was why I had two golden, non-negotiable rules for my senior year at Westbrook University.

Win the Frozen Four tournament, and keep the NHL scouts hungry. Anything else was a liability.

After my ex-girlfriend, Vanessa, decided to ride Carter Thorne’s dick—the same parasitic rival trying to strip the "C" off my jersey—I’d completely locked down my life.

There was no room for distractions or drama. I was just going to be focused.

Then Jax had to go and ruin everything.

"Look, man, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't an absolute emergency," Jax said, pacing the length of JFK Airport’s arrivals terminal. His usual easygoing, golden retriever energy was completely frayed. "The exchange program in London starts next week. If I leave her at her apartment, the fucking press will eat her alive. She needs a safe house, Reid. Just one semester. I trust you."

"Your sister is a walking nuclear hazard, Jax," I growled, crossing my arms. My 6’3” frame usually intimidated people into backing off, but Jax was my childhood best friend and a defenseman who stood nearly as tall. He knew me too well.

"She’s my sister," Jax pleaded, his striking hazel eyes dead serious. "Please."

I muttered a string of curses under my breath. I owed Jax. He’d had my back through the darkest shit in my life. But his sister? Chloe Dupont?

Just hearing her name made my jaw ache. She was the definition of shallow, loud, and dramatic. Worse, she was the reason I’d spent three agonizing seasons benched in high school after one of her ‘harmless’ pranks that went viral, nearly costing me my ride to Westbrook.

She was a Reality TV princess who thrived on chaos. To her, life was a game….to me, she was my ultimate goddamn nightmare.

"Fine," I spat. "But she stays in the spare room, keeps her mouth shut, and she doesn't bring her Hollywood bullshit into my rink."

"Deal. Thank you, brother." Jax breathed a sigh of relief.

Before I could remind him that I still hated her guts, the temperature in the terminal seemed to drop. A sudden commotion erupted near the international gate.

"Over here! Chloe! Is it true about the affair?"

"Chloe, look this way! Give us a statement on the scandal!"

A sea of paparazzi swarmed the exit, their cameras flashing rapidly. Security guards frantically tried to hold back a line of aggressive reporters shouting invasive questions about some public scandal involving an actor.

And right in the center of the hurricane was Chloe Dupont.

Fuck, she hadn't changed at all. If anything, she’d gotten more dangerous. Standing at 5’9”, she practically glided through the chaos with an effortless, high-fashion glamour.

She wore oversized designer sunglasses, but they didn't hide her sharp jawline or the long, vibrant red hair that flowed down her shoulders in glossy waves. She was mixed-race, effortlessly stunning, and carried herself with an arrogant, untouchable poise that made every head in the terminal turn.

To the world, she was a flawless, unbothered media queen.

But as she drew closer, I noticed the slight tension in her rigid shoulders, the way her fingers tightly gripped the handle of her Louis Vuitton suitcase.

For a split second, before she saw us, the mask slipped. She looked exhausted.

Then, her hazel eyes locked onto mine. The vulnerability vanished, instantly replaced by a sharp, mocking smirk.

"Well, well," Chloe purred, stopping right in front of us as the paparazzi hammered away at the glass doors behind her. She lowered her sunglasses, her gaze scanning my athletic build with lazy amusement. "If it isn't Westbrook’s resident Boy Scout. Still looking like you chew on glass for breakfast, Vance."

"Save the commentary, Chloe," I snapped, refusing to let her get under my skin. "We’re leaving. Now."

"Missed you too, asshole," she muttered, rolling her eyes as she bypassed me entirely to throw her arms around her brother. "Jax, tell your guard dog to relax. His veins look like they’re about to pop."

Jax gave her a quick hug, shooting me an apologetic glance over her shoulder. "Be nice, Chlo. Reid is doing us a massive favor. You play by his rules while I'm in London, or you're on your own. Got it?"

Chloe scoffed, tossing her red hair back. "Please. How hard can it be to live with a guy whose entire personality is ice and protein powder?"

I grabbed her heavy-ass suitcase, leaning down until I was entirely in her space, making sure she could see the absolute lack of humor in my grey eyes.

"You have no idea what you're getting into, princess," I whispered, my voice dangerously low. "You mess with my season, and I will throw you out on the street myself. Paparazzi be damned."

For a moment, her breath hitched. Her sharp tongue faltered as she stared up at me, realizing I wasn't the same high school kid she could easily push around. I was the captain now, and this was my territory.

"Try it, Jock," she whispered back, her defiant hazel eyes flashing with a dangerous spark.

The ride back to the apartment was a silent war. Jax tried to keep the conversation light, talking about his flight and his expectations for his exchange semester, but the air in the truck was thick with mutual hate.

I kept my eyes glued to the road, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. My golden rules were still intact, but looking at the rear-view mirror at the gorgeous, chaotic girl staring out the window, I had a sickening feeling that this semester was going to be an absolute fucking nightmare.

Then Jax’s phone beeped and he went completely pale. “Oh shit…They just shifted the opening. I need to be in London by tomorrow.”

“What!” Chole and I echoed together. Can this day get any worse?