Chapter 2 Chapter 2; The Invasion
Reid Pov
"What the fuck do you mean, tomorrow?"
My voice echoed in the cramped cab of my truck, sharp enough to cut through the heavy scent of Chloe’s expensive, suffocating vanilla perfume.
Jax stared at his phone, his face completely drained of color. "The program coordinator just emailed. There’s a mandatory orientation gala with the British hockey federation on Monday morning. If I’m not on the red-eye out of JFK tonight, I’m disqualified from the exchange." He looked at me, his hazel eyes wide with a mix of desperation and panic. "Reid, man... I’m sorry. I thought I had a week to get her settled."
"Fucking brilliant," I muttered, slamming my palm against the steering wheel.
In the rearview mirror, I watched Chloe. The confident, media-trained smirk she’d worn at the airport had completely vanished. She looked small against the leather seat, her manicured nails digging into the strap of her purse. But the second she caught me looking, the walls went right back up.
"Don't look at me like I planned this, Vance," she snapped, tossing her vibrant red hair. "Believe me, spending my first night in this college with you is not my idea of a luxury vacation."
"Shut up, Chloe," I growled, pulling a sharp U-turn back toward JFK.
The next two hours were a chaotic blur of airport drop-offs and tense, whispered goodbyes. Standing outside the international terminal, Jax threw his arms around his sister, holding her tighter than usual.
"Keep your head down, Chlo," Jax murmured, his voice thick. "No stunts or media drama. Just stay safe."
He pulled away, turning his gaze to me. He extended a hand, gripping my forearm with a desperate, iron strength. "I trust you with her life, Reid. Keep her away from the sharks."
"I got her, Jax," I said, the lie tasting like ash in my mouth. "Go."
We watched him disappear into the terminal. The moment the sliding glass doors shut, the reality of the situation crashed down on me.
I was officially stuck with a walking disaster for an entire semester.
"Let's go, princess," I said, turning on my heel. "The clock is ticking on my sanity."
The second we crossed the door of my apartment, the invasion officially began.
My place was a sanctuary of discipline. The floors were spotless, the fridge was meticulously stocked with meal-prepped Tupperware, and my training schedule was pinned to the wall like a holy text. It was a space designed for a future NHL draft.
Chloe ruined it in exactly four minutes.
She dropped her massive Louis Vuitton suitcase right in the middle of the hallway, letting it scuff the baseboard. Within ten minutes, her designer boots were kicked off near the door, her oversized sunglasses were sitting on my kitchen island, and the heavy, intoxicating scent of her perfume had completely hijacked the air.
"Where’s the Wi-Fi password?" she called out, already pacing the living room like a caged tiger. "And don't tell me you don't have one because you're too busy meditating on ice cubes."
"On the fridge," I said, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a protein shake. I leaned against the counter, watching her. She had changed into a pair of tight grey sweatpants and a cropped white tank top, her long red hair tied into a messy knot.
Even without the high-fashion armor, she looked infuriatingly stunning. It was a distraction I didn't fucking need.
"Listen to me carefully," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "This isn't a hotel. I leave for the rink at 5:00 AM. I sleep at 10:00 PM. You don't touch my food, you don't touch my gear, and you keep your drama outside that front door. If I see a single paparazzi camera outside this building, you’re sleeping in your car."
Chloe walked over, stopping just inches from me. The top of her head reached my chin, and she had to tilt her face up to meet my gaze. Her hazel eyes flared with that familiar, defiant spark.
"You think you're so tough, don't you, Captain?" she whispered, her voice a soft, mocking purr. "But we both know you're just terrified that I’m going to make you feel something other than a hockey puck."
My jaw tightened. "Get out of my face, Chloe."
She laughed, a low, melodic sound that grated on my nerves, before turning on her heel and slamming her bedroom door shut.
The real nightmare began the next afternoon.
I needed to drop off my signed registration forms at the athletic department, and Jax had strictly ordered that Chloe shouldn't be left alone until the local press buzz died down. Which meant I had to drag her onto the Westbrook campus.
It was a total fucking mistake.
The moment we stepped onto the quad, the atmosphere changed. Chloe hadn't even tried to blend in. She wore a sleek black trench coat, dark designer shades, and thigh-high boots.
She walked like she was on a Paris runway, completely unbothered by the sudden whispers rippling through the crowd of students.
“Is that Chloe Dupont? The reality star from the show.”
“The girl from the Hollywood affair scandal?”
“What the hell is she doing with Reid Vance?”
Phones flew out of pockets. The distinct click of the smartphone echoed from every angle. I felt my chest tighten, it was like the time I was dating Vannessa all over again.
I grabbed her elbow, pulling her closer to my side. "Keep moving," I muttered out of the corner of my mouth. "Don't look at them."
"I've been dealing with cameras since I was twelve, Vance," she said, though I felt the slight shake in her arm. "Relax your bodyguard routine."
"Reid! Hey, Reid!"
A voice cut through the crowd. My blood began to boil.
Carter Thorne stepped out from the shade of the library, flanked by two of his freshmen nerds. He wore his Westbrook varsity jacket, his blond hair perfectly styled, a cocky, punchable smirk plastered across his face.
He didn't look at me. His eyes locked directly onto Chloe, scanning her body with a hungry, predatory intensity that made me want to puke.
"Well, well. I heard a rumor we had royalty on campus," Carter purred, stepping directly into our path and forcing us to halt. He smoothly slipped his hands into his pockets, leaning in toward Chloe. "I’m Carter. Team captain in-waiting of the hockey team. If Vance here is boring you with his Boy Scout routine, I’d be more than happy to show you how real stars live at Westbrook."
Before Chloe could even answer, a sharp gasp cut through the air.
"Are you fucking kidding me, Carter?"
Vanessa stepped out from behind the crowd, her face twisted in a mask of pure rage. My clout-chasing ex-girlfriend looked between Carter and Chloe, her eyes flashing with venom.
Seeing her look at my rival with jealousy—the guy she’d cheated on me with—didn't hurt anymore, but the incoming trainwreck made my stomach drop.
Vanessa marched straight up to Chloe, pointing a manicured finger at her chest. "I knew you were desperate for attention after getting kicked out of LA, but crawling into our school? You’re nothing but a pathetic, homewrecking slut who thrives on destroying lives for views."
The quad went dead silent. Dozens of phones were raised, recording every single second.
My fists clenched so hard my knuckles popped. I stepped forward, my 6’3” frame looming over Vanessa and Carter, a deadly promise in my grey eyes.
"Vanessa, back the fuck off before I…"
"No, Reid. Let me." Chloe calmly stepped in front of me. She slowly lowered her sunglasses, her hazel eyes cutting through Vanessa like a blade, and just like that the air around us grew suffocatingly cold.
