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I sighed and began typing back.

It’s getting better. Coffee sounds good!

After hitting send, I felt a rush of guilt wash over me. Did I really want this? I could still picture Knox’s intense stare from practice yesterday—how he’d cornered me like prey. The heat of his breath had sent shockwaves through my body that I wasn’t ready to confront.

Chris was good for me. He was steady and kind, always looking out for others without expecting anything in return. This coffee date could be a chance to reset, to remind myself that safety existed outside the chaos Knox brought into my life.

But deep down, I knew it was also an escape route—a way to avoid confronting the wild attraction spiraling between Knox and me. It was easier this way; no risk of getting burned when you’re sipping lattes instead of risking it all on the ice.

I pulled into the parking lot and parked in my usual spot.The River Styx, the campus café, loomed ahead, inviting yetintimidating. I took a moment to gather my thoughts, hesitating before stepping inside.

I inhaled deeply and pushed through the door. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wrapped around me like a warm blanket. As I scanned the small room, my eyes landed on Chris sitting at a corner table, his easy smile lighting up the space. Relief washed over me; he looked so unassuming and safe.

“Hey! You made it!” He waved me over as I approached.

“Hey,” I replied, trying to shake off the lingering tension from practice yesterday.

I ordered a large black coffee, the barista’s friendly banter drifting away as I focused on Chris. We settled into our seats, and he leaned back casually, launching into tales about the men’s team drama—some epic spat over who could bench press more.

“It’s ridiculous.” He laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’d think they were trying to settle a feud from middle school.”

His humor made me chuckle, but it felt surface-level, like we were skimming along while something deeper churned beneath my skin.

“So, what about you? Any drama brewing with the ladies?” he asked playfully.

“Not really,” I replied quickly. “Just focusing on practice.”

Chris nodded and leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially as he recounted how one of their defensemen had almost gotten kicked off the team for some stupid mistake at a party.

As he spoke, I tried to engage fully in our conversation. He was funny and kind—a genuine guy who genuinely cared about his teammates—but part of me remained half-present. My thoughts kept drifting back to Knox: the way he’d looked at meyesterday like I was something more than just another player on his roster.

“Hey,” Chris interrupted my spiral, “want some help with your stickhandling drills after practice today?”

The offer hung in the air between us like a lifeline thrown in turbulent waters. A part of me wanted to grab onto it—clutching tightly to that sense of normalcy—but another part was already racing ahead to images of Knox pushing me harder than ever before.

“Hey, you okay?” Chris’s voice cut through my thoughts.

I blinked at him, caught off guard. “Yeah, just thinking about drills later.”

“Right.” He grinned but tilted his head slightly, concern etched in his brow. “You seem a little… off.”

Off?More likeon fire. But I couldn’t explain that to him—not when I was already trying to convince myself that Knox was just another coach. Just another guy pushing me toward the jersey I desperately wanted.

But as much as I wanted to shake off the heat building inside me, I knew it was futile. This time, Knox wouldn’t just push me; he’d push all my buttons—the ones I’d kept hidden away for far too long. The thrill of competition would mix with something darker—a hunger that left me breathless.

The thought made me shiver despite the warmth of the café.

Chris continued talking about their last game while I nodded absently. All I could picture was Knox leaning into me during drills—his breath against my ear, his hand brushing mine as we fought for control over the puck. The way he challenged me with that low voice, urging me to fight harder, pushed me closer to a line I wasn’t sure I wanted to cross.

I wanted to resist—to push back against whatever he ignited in me—but what if this time? What if I didn’t?

The realization sent another jolt through me. Would it be so wrong to let him take charge for once? To surrender to the fire instead of trying to contain it? The idea scared me and thrilled me all at once.

As we finished our coffee and made plans for after practice, my heart raced at the thought of facing him again. The connection between us pulsed with unspoken tension—a dangerous dance that promised to unfold on the ice tonight. And deep down, beneath all my defenses, part of me craved it more than anything else.

I smiled at Chris, feeling the warmth of gratitude settle in my chest. “Thanks for the coffee. It was just what I needed.”

“Anytime,” he replied, his eyes brightening. He leaned in closer, and for a fleeting moment, I thought he might go for a kiss. My heart stuttered in my chest—an instinctive flutter that felt so foreign right now.