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“All right, team!” he called out, voice booming. “Today we’re focusing on puck battles along the boards. It’s a critical part ofthe game, and you all know how important it is to hold your ground.”

I shifted on my skates, trying to appear nonchalant while my heart raced. I caught a glimpse of Knox leaning against the boards, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on me like I was the only one that mattered.

“Pair up,” Coach continued. “We’ll work in groups of two. I want intensity. No backing down—show me you want that jersey.”

Every eye fell on me as I moved to find a partner. My skin prickled under Knox’s watchful gaze; it felt like he was memorizing every inch of me. It wasn’t just practice anymore; it was a performance, and he was ready for the show.

“Evans! You’re with Brooke!” Coach called out, breaking my concentration.

Brooke skated over with a fierce grin that told me she was ready to go hard. We set up at one end of the rink, sticks ready for battle.

“Remember,” Knox's voice cut through from across the ice, sharp and clear, “It’s not just about getting the puck; it’s about owning your space.”

My pulse quickened as I caught his eye for a moment before looking away. The weight of his gaze felt heavy on my back as we began our drill.

Brooke charged at me with surprising speed, and I braced myself against her force. Every move had to be precise; every shove counted. With each clash of sticks and shuffling feet, I sensed Knox's eyes following me like a hawk waiting for its prey.

“Good! That’s it!” Coach encouraged from the sidelines while moving down the rink to observe us closely.

In those moments between plays, when Brooke and I paused to reset, I could feel Knox measuring our efforts—calculatingweaknesses and strengths. His focus made my stomach twist with nerves and excitement.

Without warning, Knox came to a stop just a few feet away, assessing the drill with that penetrating gaze of his. I felt the familiar knot in my stomach tighten as he focused on me.

“Evans,” he said, voice steady but laced with an edge. “You’re doing it wrong.”

My heart raced at the thought of being critiqued in front of Brooke, but there was no time to dwell on it. Knox stepped onto the ice, effortlessly slicing through the space between us and Brooke.

“Watch,” he commanded.

He positioned himself behind me, closer than I’d expected. The warmth radiating from his body sent an unexpected jolt through me. Knox demonstrated the correct technique—body low, knees bent—as he shoved his shoulder against mine. It felt different from any other hit I'd taken; this was purposeful and intimate.

“Now you try,” he instructed, stepping back but still close enough for me to feel his presence looming over me.

“Show me,” he said, that smirk teasing the corners of his mouth.

I braced myself and charged at Knox, feeling the ice beneath my skates slip just a little as I leaned into him. My shoulder connected with his, but it was like crashing against a brick wall. He barely budged, that same cool confidence radiating off him.

I pushed harder this time, determined to prove I wasn’t just another player he could easily dismiss. But as I stumbled back from our collision, he skated away from me with a slight chuckle before turning and barreling back toward me again.

He crashed into me—harder this time—sending me reeling. I fought to keep my balance but felt his hand at my hip, anchoringme for a moment longer than necessary. My breath hitched as I stumbled back, feeling the heat of his palm through my gear.

Our eyes locked.

Heat coursed through my veins, a fierce pulse that drowned out everything else in the rink. The challenge hung between us like a thread pulled taut.

“You call that a hit?” he taunted, leaning closer. The proximity sent an unexpected thrill through me.

But it wasn’t fear driving my heart rate; it was something more primal—a mix of exhilaration and defiance swirling within me.

“Maybe you should show me how it’s done,” I shot back, letting irritation seep into my voice. It came out sharper than intended, but I wanted him to see that I wouldn’t back down. Not now.

Knox’s eyes darkened with something unnameable—a glimmer of possession laced in with challenge. He took a half-step closer, and for an instant, everything around us faded away. The sounds of the rink dimmed; it was just us—two competitors caught in a charged standoff.

In that moment, I felt alive—fighting not just for the jersey but for every ounce of respect I craved from him and myself alike.

I pushed back against the boards, still feeling the sting from Knox’s last hit. The ice beneath me was cold and unyielding, but the heat radiating off Knox made it impossible to ignore him. I had been so focused on proving myself that I hadn’t noticed how tightly wound he was, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

Then he came at me again, pushing me hard into the boards. My breath caught in my throat as I collided with the unforgiving surface. I fought to regain my balance, feeling the sharp edge of his shoulder against my own.