Page 4

KATERINA

After an hour of relentless begging, charming smiles, and shameless ass-kissing, Mrs. Richards finally caved. Barely. She wasn’t thrilled with my persistence, but after I dramatically explained how desperately I needed the extra ice time, she sighed, rubbing her temples like I was responsible for her impending migraine.

“Fine,”

she said, exasperated. “You can start tomorrow. 8 AM sharp. And before you ask, you cannot pick a different partner.”

And that’s how I set myself up to be assisting Aiden fucking Knight. I tried pleading again, but Mrs. Richards's look made me snap my mouth shut. Beggars can’t be choosers. At least I had secured the ice tonight. And the best part? I was about to ruin Aiden’s little private practice session.

Smirking to myself, I make my way toward the rink, anticipation buzzing under my skin. Oh, he was not going to like this.

I spend time lacing up my skates, ensuring each loop is snug. Tonight, I’ve opted for a sleek black bodysuit, the long sleeves hugging my arms like a second layer of skin.

My high ponytail is tight, and my headband keeps my headphones secure. When my skates touch the ice, I toss my skate guards onto the bench and exhale deeply.

The world fades when I push off, gliding effortlessly across the rink. Dark Paradise by Lana Del Rey floods my ears, drowning out everything—every thought, frustration, and lingering bitterness toward my father, my situation, and Aiden.

Here on the ice, I’m weightless. Untouchable. I lose myself in my routine, executing a series of quad jumps, feeling the sharp bite of the cold air against my skin. Each successful landing sends a rush of satisfaction through me. The rink belongs to me in these moments—until I slam hard into a solid, warm chest.

Two strong hands grip my waist, steadying me before I can fall over. My breath hitches as I lift my gaze and lock eyes with Aiden. Fuck.

I barely register Lana, still crooning in my ears as I stare up at him. Were his eyes this pretty yesterday, or did I bump my head somewhere? The world blurs, my heart pounding far too loudly in my chest. Aiden frowns, his lips moving, but I can’t hear him over the music. He snaps his fingers before my face, dragging me back to reality.

Annoyed, I reach under my headband and yank out an earbud. “What?”

Aiden sighs, his hands on my waist lingering a second too long before he finally lets go.

“Angel Face,”

he starts, exasperation clear in his tone. “I thought we talked about this yesterday. This is my ice time. It’s booked for me. Not you—me.”

I smirk, knowing exactly how much this is about to piss him off. “Well, now it’s my ice time, too.”

His frown deepens. “What the hell does that mean?”

Aiden asks, confused. “Your dear friend Roman gave me some stellar advice yesterday,”

I say, folding my arms over my chest. “So I chatted with Mrs. Richards, and guess what?”

His jaw ticks, and he clearly understands where this is going. “What?”

“I’m the newest junior coach,”

I exclaim with a grin.

I watch as he processes my words, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep, frustrated breath. His jaw clenches once, then unclenches.

“Oh, and the best part?”

I lean in slightly, enjoying the way his dark eyes narrow. “We have to teach together.”

Aiden exhales harshly through his nose. “You’re kidding.”

I grin harder.

“Nope. And before you even think about going to Mrs. Richards to get reassigned, don’t bother. I already tried, and she shut me down.”

He turns his face away, clearly attempting to keep himself from saying something he’ll regret. I can’t help but admire the sharp line of his jaw, the way his black fitted shirt hugs his every muscle, the flex of his forearms as he crosses them over his broad chest—

“Fine,”

he finally says. “We’ll share the rink. The left side is mine. I’ll put a cone in the middle, and you better not fucking cross it.”

I raise my hands in surrender. “Sure, Aiden. Whatever you say.”

His scowl deepens. “It’s Knight to you.”

I roll my eyes, sliding my earbuds back in as I skate away. I’m midway through my jump sequence, practicing my quad toe when my skate catches at the wrong angle. The impact is immediate. I slam hard onto the ice, pain exploding in my right shoulder as I land.

Fuck.

I hiss, flexing my arm. A sharp, familiar pain shoots through me. Damn it. I should have booked my physical therapy appointment days ago.

Before I can fully process the pain, a pair of hockey skates stop in front of me.

I look up. Aiden.

Concern flickers in his dark eyes. Is that a genuine concern, or am I hallucinating?

I tap my earbuds, silencing the music. “What?” I ask.

“Are you okay?”

His voice is gruff, but I catch the slightest hint of worry underneath.

I hesitate for a split second before taking his outstretched hand, but the moment I move, another sharp twinge shoots through my shoulder, causing me to wince. Aiden notices as his gaze flickers to my shoulder, then back to my eyes. “You’re hurt,”

he states. I force myself to straighten, shaking my head. “I’m fine. I don’t need your help.”

I skate away, snatching my skate guards from the bench, yanking off my skates, and storming out of the rink before he can say anything else.

Sitting in the Jeep, my father gifted me. I attempt to Facetime Alina. The second her face appears on my screen. I feel my entire body relax.

“Malyshka, I miss you,”

she coos dramatically. I grin. “Come over? Bring Alexei, too? I need my friends, or I will lose my mind surrounded by four hockey bro roommates all night.”

Alina nods, turning to whisper something to someone beside her. “Can Maddie come? I want you to meet her,” she asks.

“Of course, the more the merrier!”

I say, rubbing my throbbing shoulder. “Alexei’s grabbing groceries now. Dinner and a movie?” she asks.

“Yes, I’ll prepare drinks,”

Alina squeals. |I love you!”

She yells, and I laugh. “See you soon.”

After hanging up, I shoot a quick text to the guys. Don’t even get me started on the name. Will thought it was funny, but It’s not.

Hockey House + Ice Princess

Ice Princess

Roman

I roll my eyes. Typical.

Ice Princess

William added Aiden to the chat, and I froze, staring at the notification.

William

My heart flips when I see the three dots pop up. I briefly hover over his contact before saving it under Grumpy Hockey Player . My phone pings and a new message appears.

Grumpy Hockey Player

What? I blink at the screen. Fuck. I was so sure he was going to say no.

I pull into the driveway, the evening sky darkening, and switch off the engine. My fingers are stiff from gripping the steering wheel, and my thoughts are a mess. I need this night to unwind—my body is sore from practice, and my mind is stuck on Aiden. There’s no escaping it: he has invaded my thoughts, and as much as I try to push him out, he lingers. With a sigh, I grab the bags from the backseat and make my way to the front door, unlocking it with a slight twist. The familiar scent of the house greets me, but it doesn’t feel like home tonight. It feels like I’m standing at the edge of something, unsure if I’m ready to dive in.

“Hey!”

Will’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts as I enter the kitchen. He and Roman are leaning against the counter, focusing on me as I walk in. Roman shoots me a grin, his usual teasing smile plastered across his face. “I got it,”

Will says, reaching out to grab the grocery bags from my hands. He lifts a large bottle of tequila from the bag and holds it up like a trophy. “Is this what I think it is?”

I nod, trying to focus on the task ahead and distract myself from the racing thoughts about the man who is probably upstairs right now.

“Yep, that’s the one,”

I say, glancing around for the rest of the ingredients and hoisting the last bag on top of the counter. “I’m making my signature cocktail. That’s why I bought this drink dispenser.”

Roman raises an eyebrow and gives me an exaggerated, approving nod.

“Impressive. But I’m watching you, Kat. Don’t mess it up.”

I laugh softly, the sound feeling more and more genuine as I begin to pull out the oranges, cutting them into thin, delicate slices. The scent of citrus hits my senses, and I let it ground me. I grab a couple of strands of rosemary, their fragrant needles giving off a refreshing smell as I drop them into the dispenser. The pomegranate seeds and cranberries follow right after. Lastly, I add the tequila— the entire bottle—feeling the weight of its contents pouring out. It’s not just the alcohol I need to focus on tonight. It’s the whole night. I need to loosen up, not think about practice, and ignore Aiden’s presence.

“Jesus, that looks so good,”

Will says, licking his lips as he leans over to get a closer look.

“You can have some,”

I reply, glancing at him. “Just don’t open the new bottle. That’s for the Jenga shot game.”

They exchange puzzled glances.

“Jenga?”

Will asks, his tone mocking. “We’re playing Jenga?”

He cracks a grin, clearly intrigued. “Yeah, drinking Jenga. At the last Olympics, Alina and I got bored in our hotel room, so we devised our version. It’s a lot more fun than you’d think,”

I smirk, imagining the chaos that will follow. Roman claps his hands together. “Fuck yeah. Now I’m excited.”

“Alright, alright, save some energy,”

I tease, shaking my head as I finish stirring the concoction and adding the ice. This is precisely what I need tonight—some chaos and fun. “What are we eating for dinner?”

Graysen’s voice cuts through the buzz of conversation, his tone light and casual as he walks into the kitchen, looking around with an appreciative glance.

“Homemade pizza,”

I reply, setting the cocktail dispenser aside. “Alexei and the others should be here soon.”

Greysen rubs his hands together, a smile creeping across his face.

The doorbell rings just as I finish the dough, and Will and Roman both jump to their feet, practically knocking each other out of the way as they rush to answer it. I can already feel the energy in the house shifting. Everyone is here to have a good time, and I’m determined to make sure that happens, even if thoughts of a certain someone and when he’ll be joining us keep trying to invade.

“Wait—what?”

Roman’s voice carries from the front door with a surprised laugh. I look up from the kitchen counter to find Roman standing in the doorway, staring at the brunette woman on the front step.

“Maddie?”

Roman asks, his voice tinged with disbelief. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Hello, brother dearest,”

Maddie says, her voice light and playful. “I was invited, so here I am.” I blink, caught off guard by the sudden revelation. Will looks equally stunned.

“She’s your sister?”

Will asks, his tone full of genuine surprise. Roman glances from Maddie to Will, then back to Maddie, before giving a slow nod.

“Yeah, she is.”

Wait, what? “How do you not know she is his sister? I ask, confused. “My sister lived with our grandparents most of her teenage years. The guys never met her.”

I give Roman a nod. It makes sense now.

Roman shoots Will a suspicious look. “Wait, is she the brunette you talked to me about earlier today?”

Roman asks, narrowing his eyes at Will. Will’s face instantly flushes a deep red.

“What? No,”

Will replies, his voice awkward and strained. “I wasn’t—”

Roman leans in and whispers something in Will’s ear, and I see Will gulp, clearly taken aback by whatever Roman just said or threatened. I can’t help but smirk at the awkward energy in the room, mainly since it doesn’t involve me for once, as Roman excuses himself to help Alina, who just walked up with a bag that is slipping off her shoulder. The sight of Alina’s flushed cheeks only makes me love her more—she has no poker face.

“Come on in, guys,”

I say, trying to ease the tension. “It’s freezing outside.”

Alexei follows behind them, looking around the house with curiosity. “This place is nice, love,”

he comments, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “It needs a bit of a feminine touch,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But I’m working on it.” Alexei chuckles and then nods toward the living room. I notice Greysen is now back in the living room, his attention fixed on his video game.

“Bestie, kto on?”

Alexei asks in Russian, his eyes narrowing mischievously. “Who is he?”

I give Alexei an amused smile, glancing toward Graysen. “Hockey player.”

I lean in closer. “I don’t know if he’s gay, though,” I whisper. Alexei smirks, his gaze moving up and down Graysen’s frame. “I’ll find out.” He answers in Russian. Before I can stop myself, I toss a cranberry at Alexei, hitting him square in the face. “Nice aim, Kat,” he says, wiping his face, a playful glint in his eyes.

The night continues, the banter flowing effortlessly between us as we prepare the pizzas, dividing ourselves into groups to make it smoother. Ever the strategist, Alexei calls dibs on Graysen being his partner, which has both of them laughing as they begin to spread sauce and cheese over the dough. Roman hasn’t left Alina’s side since she arrived, flirting with her shamelessly. Meanwhile, Will is doing his best to make small talk with Maddie, although he keeps glancing over at Roman, who hasn’t taken his eyes off either of them.

Maddie, though—she’s a gem. The second Alina introduced us, and the conversation came quickly, as if we had known each other forever. I can tell Roman has a soft spot for her, and it makes the whole night feel lighter. The door swings open, and there he is.

Aiden.

His gaze flicks to me as he walks past me and into the living room; for a brief second, everything else blurs—like the entire world just paused. My heart leaps, thudding wildly in my chest, betraying me. Damn it.

“Ale, are you okay?”

Alina’s voice pulls me back, soft but knowing. She follows my line of sight toward the living room, and when she glances back at me, a smirk spreads across her face.

I swallow hard, forcing my expression into something neutral. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Will raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Why are you calling her Ale?”

he asks Alina.

Alina shrugs, still grinning. “Kat’s middle name is Alexandra. Ale is my nickname for her. We’re Ali and Ale. And no, you can’t call us by those names; only Ale and I can.”

I shoot her a mock glare but can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. Before I can respond, Graysen’s voice cuts through the air.

“Knight.”

I turn just in time to see Aiden approaching the kitchen. The space suddenly feels smaller. The air is sharper. I hate how aware I am of him, how I can feel his presence before seeing him. The scent of pine and bergamot surrounds me as he stops behind me, his height making him tower over me. His movements are effortless as he leans slightly to the left, pushing his arms over the counter, over my arms, over me, before stretching my slab of dough between his hands, the muscles in his forearms flexing.

The muscles in my jaw clenched. I swallow. Focus. It’s just pizza dough. Get a grip, Kat.

“You’re struggling.”

He states his voice is low, smug. I roll my eyes, gripping the counter's edge to ground myself. “Thanks for stating the obvious cap, everyone has a partner, and I suck at this,” I mutter.

Aiden chuckles as he drags the dough I was working on, bringing it closer to himself before flashing me a smirk. I scream in my head.

I hate him so much.

His hands work the dough with a practiced ease, large and veiny, making the motion look natural. I catch myself staring and snap out of it, my face heating. The knot in my stomach tightens. I need a distraction. Now. Without thinking, I grab a shot glass, fill it to the brim, and knock it back in one go. The burn does little to settle me. “Are you okay?”

Alina’s voice is quieter now, laced with curiosity. I nod, though my eyes betray me, flickering back to Aiden. He’s talking to Roman now, laughing at something.

Why does he have to look like that when he laughs? Why does it make something in my chest squeeze?

“Oh my god,”

Alina whispers, inching closer with a knowing grin. “You like him.”

I nearly choke on my drink.

“No, I don’t.”

The denial comes too fast, too forced. Alina raises an eyebrow, waiting. I exhale sharply, dropping my head back in frustration. “I mean… yeah, my body is attracted to him, but he’s an asshole.”

Her smirk deepens.

“Sure, Ale. Whatever you say.”

I shoot her a glare, but it holds no real heat.

“Sometimes it’s okay to think about something other than figure skating,”

she says, more serious this time. I frown, resisting the urge to shut down the conversation entirely. Her words settle uncomfortably in my chest. I risk another glance at Aiden—just in time for him to look at me. For a split second, our eyes meet. Something shifts. Just a crack. Just enough to feel it. I break eye contact first.

“Okay, let’s focus,”

I whisper to Alina, forcing lightness into my tone. “Pizza time.”

Alina lets it go, but I know what she’s thinking. She always sees more than I want her to. I push it aside and move back to the dough that Aiden has finished kneading, but the tightness in my stomach lingers. Across the room, Roman gravitates back toward Alina like he can’t help himself. The way he looks at her—there’s something there, something I don’t think even he realises. And maybe that’s why I suddenly feel this strange, quiet jealousy. Seeing them potentially falling for one another doesn’t make me want someone. It just reminds me that I don’t have someone.

I sit down on the stool next to Aiden’s before I can overthink it, glancing at him. “I think your best friend likes my best friend.”

He smirks. That's exactly what I was just thinking.

“Seems like it.”

His voice is quieter now. “I wish I’d been here to see Will’s face when he realised the girl he’s crushing on is Roman’s sister.”

I burst out laughing at the thought. Will the ever-so-serious one being blindsided by the reality of Maddie? Yeah. That was good.

Aiden chuckles along with me, his eyes lingering on mine. And then he smiles. Not his usual cocky smirk. A real smile. The kind that softens his expression makes him look different—more open and human. The kind that makes my stomach feel like it’s doing backflips.

Shit.

Are we bonding? Ugh. Why does it feel like that? Before I can spiral any further, Aiden speaks again, breaking the moment. “Okay, pick your toppings. Half of the pizza’s yours, and half is mine.”

He drops pepperoni onto his side, covering it with cheese. How original. I roll my eyes but focus on my half, carefully choosing each ingredient. Anything to not think about the way my body is reacting to him. The pizzas are in the oven five minutes later, and the kitchen smells incredible.

“Jenga time, bitches!”

Alexei yells from the living room. I shake off the tension in my chest and follow the others to the game. We gather around the small table, our makeshift arena for the evening. Alexei sits to my right, Aiden to my left.

Too close. I can feel the heat of his proximity, the occasional brush of his leg against mine. But I don’t move away. Not yet. Alexei pulls the first block. “Rock, paper, scissors, shot with the person on your right.”

He reads aloud before he turns to Greysen, who smirks, accepting the challenge. “Rock, paper, scissors, shot!”

Alexei calls out, and Greysen holds up the paper while Alexei shows scissors. Greysen groans. “Drink up, pretty boy,”

Alexei yells.

Greyson sips his cocktail, and Alexei smirks, effortlessly placing the block on top of the stack.

“My turn,”

I mutter, shifting to my knees. I pull out a block and flip it over. I glance at Aiden, a challenge flashing in my eyes. “Do your best impression of the person to your left,”

I announce. Aiden groans, dropping his head into his hand like the universe has personally wronged him. I giggle and stand up, clearing my throat dramatically. Then, with exaggerated confidence, I deepen my voice, puff out my chest, and lean forward.

“Angel Face. I told you, this is my rink. Only I can skate after hours. It’s booked by me, not you, so leave.”

Laughter erupts around me, and I soak it in, grinning. But when I glance at Aiden, he’s not rolling his eyes or looking annoyed.

He’s just staring at me.

His lips curl into a slow, knowing smile. His dark eyes stay locked on mine, something unreadable flickering beneath the amusement.

“Cute, Ale,”

he murmurs mockingly, using the nickname that only Alina ever calls me. The way he says it—soft, teasing, intimate—sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. I can feel the warmth spreading through my body, my cheeks heating against my will. I need to move. Step back. Create distance. But his smile. That damn smile—it’s too much.

“Hey, find your own nickname,”

Alina interjects with a playful pout. “That one’s mine.”

Aiden just shrugs, but his eyes don’t leave mine. I sit back down, feeling the weight of something unspoken settle between us. It lingers, stretching between us like a taut wire, buzzing, waiting. Aiden pulls out a block next. The tower wobbles slightly as he flips it over. His brow furrows before he reads the challenge aloud. “Play tag. Loser has to finish their drink.”

His gaze snaps to mine, his lips tilting into something smug, something dangerous. I raise a brow, smirking back at him. “Angel Face, are you ready to lose?”

His smirk deepens.

“Hell no. I’m good at tag.”

I push to my feet, adrenaline already coursing through me. The playful spark in my chest ignites.

“I’ll have mercy and give you a five-second head start,”

Aiden says, his voice dripping with challenge. I don’t wait. I bolt. I take the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding against my ribs. My laughter rings through the house as I slip into the supply closet, pressing my back against the door. I hold my breath, so Aiden doesn’t hear me. He’s close. I can hear his footsteps approaching, his movements carefully calculated. Then, I make a break for it. I burst from the closet, dashing toward the bathroom, but he’s already seen me. The chase is on.

“There’s nowhere to hide, Angel,”

he calls, voice full of amusement. I laugh, but it dies in my throat when two strong hands grip my waist. I barely have time to react before I’m being lifted clean off the ground, my world tilting as Aiden throws me effortlessly over his shoulder.

“Got you, loser,”

he taunts, his grip firm, unrelenting. A nervous giggle escapes me—half from the tequila, half from the sheer ridiculousness of the moment. Then, my hair tie slips out.

My long waves cascade down, falling around us as I dangle over his shoulder. I feel the shift immediately—his grip tightening, his steps faltering slightly. When he finally puts me down, I push the hair out of my face, trying to regain some sense of normalcy. But Aiden is still watching me. His eyes darken, flickering with something I can’t name. His fingers reach out, brushing a few strands of hair from my face. He doesn’t pull away immediately. His touch lingers. And suddenly, I can’t breathe.

“You should let your hair down more,”

he says, voice barely above a whisper. I swallow. Hard. My pulse hammers so loudly I swear he can hear it. I force a slight shrug, trying to play it off.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Then I turn and head back toward the living room before I do something stupid.

When I sit down, Roman’s smirk is already waiting for me.

“Who won?”

he asks, eyes darting between me and Aiden. I grab my drink, downing a large sip before answering. “Mister Perfect.”

Roman’s brows lift slightly, but he lets it go. Aiden takes his seat next to me again, but something has shifted. He doesn’t engage with the game as much. He doesn’t make a show of teasing me like he had before his turn.

His focus stays on me.

And I can feel it, that silent, suffocating weight of his attention. I know he's watching me even when he’s not speaking or even when someone else is laughing. I shouldn’t be enjoying this, but I do. And that’s what terrifies me the most.

The night continues—laughter, inside jokes, easy conversation, and pizzas.

But for me, none of it registers. Because even as we settle in to watch White Chicks, even as the movie plays in the background and the others joke and drink, I can’t focus.