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AIDEN

It’s Game day here at Pleasant Oaks University, and let me tell you, everyone loves us. Returning after last year's brutal season feels like the first inhale of spring air.

I step onto the ice, my skates biting into the surface, the cold air filling my lungs. The energy in the arena crackles like a live wire, thousands of voices blending into a low, humming roar. It’s the season's first game, and the expectations are higher than they’ve ever been. I skate towards the centre of the rink, stick tapping against the boards as the rest of the team gathers. Roman’s already bouncing on his toes, practically vibrating with excitement, while Will and Grayson are locked in their usual pre-game routine of staring at the other team like they’re about to eat them alive. Good. We need that intensity. I take a breath, steadying myself before I speak.

“Listen up,”

I start, my voice cutting through the noise. “We’ve trained for this. We know what we’re capable of. We don’t second-guess, we don’t hesitate, and we don’t let the opposing team dictate our pace. We play our game. Hard, fast, and relentless.”

Roman lets out a sharp “Hell yeah,”

and a few other guys nod, cracking their knuckles or bouncing on their skates.

I scan the room, ensuring every pair of my teammates' eyes are on me before continuing.

“They think they’re better than us. They think they can out-skate us, out-hit us, outwork us. Let’s show them exactly how wrong they are.”

The guys murmur their agreement, the tension building and I clench my jaw, feeling the familiar burn of adrenaline creeping up my spine.

“And one more thing.”

My grip on my stick tightens. “We fight for each other. No matter what happens out there, we have each other’s backs.”

A chorus of agreement rumbles through the team, and I nod. “Let’s fucking go.”

The team erupts, sticks tapping against the ice, the boards rattling as we break apart. My heart pounds as I skate toward the bench, my focus locked in. Nothing else matters but this game until I see her.

She’s sitting in the stands, right beside Alina, arms crossed, one leg draped over the other like she’s utterly unbothered by the chaos around her. Her usual sharp glare is on me, lips slightly pursed in what I’m sure is an attempt to look unimpressed. But it’s her pose that gets me. That signature figure skater stance—back straight, head high, the kind of posture that screams discipline. Grace. Poise. Even sitting down, she looks like she owns the damn place.

I feel my irritation spike. I don’t know why I feel so surprised. I knew she’d be here. Of course, she’s watching. I don’t know why it bugs me so much, but it does. Maybe it's because I know she doesn’t care about hockey. Perhaps because I know she’s probably critiquing everything, ready to throw some smart-ass comment my way later. Or maybe because I can’t stop looking at her. Panic crashes over me at the thought of losing focus and ruining this game because I keep looking at Kat. The buzzer sounds, snapping me out of it, and I force my gaze back onto the ice. I shake my head, rolling out my shoulders. Focus, Knight.

The puck drops, and we’re off.

The first period is brutal. The Bears come at us hard, trying to set the tone early. It’s fast, physical, and precisely the kind of game I live for. I throw a hit along the boards, dig deep into the corners, and force their star forward to turn over the puck. By the time the second period rolls around, we’re tied two-two. Sweat drips down my neck as I skate to the bench, gripping my stick as I catch my breath.

I glance up at the stands again. Kat’s still watching. Still perched in that annoyingly perfect pose, still with that same expression—bored, like she expected more from us.

Jesus Christ. Right on cue, she lifts a brow as if daring me to impress her.

Oh, it’s on.

I shake off my exhaustion and hop over the boards, my focus sharper than before. The moment I hit the ice, I chase down the puck, weaving through defenders like they’re standing still. My teammates adjust, moving into position, and just as I fake a pass to Roman, I pull the puck back and rip a shot top shelf. The red light flashes, and the crowd erupts in cheers. For some stupid reason, I look back up at Kat.

She’s clapping, but it’s slow. Almost as if she is mocking me. I narrow my eyes and she smirks back at me.

I swear to God, she’s going to be the death of me.

By the time the game ends, we’re walking away with a 5-3 win, and the adrenaline is still burning through my veins. I should be feeling good, riding the high of the victory, but all I can think about is the inevitable conversation waiting for me the second I step off the ice.

And sure enough, there she is, leaning against the tunnel wall, arms still crossed, looking way too entertained for my liking.

“Not bad, Knight,”

she muses, tilting her head. “Didn’t completely embarrass yourself.”

I scoff, pulling off my gloves. “Oh yeah? Better than your pirouettes?”

She glares at me, pushing off the wall.

“It’s no triple axel, but I guess it was fine.”

I take a step closer, heat still pulsing through me. “You watched the whole game, Angel Face. Clearly, you were interested.”

Her lips curve upward, but there’s a challenge in her eyes.

“Oh, I was watching. Studying, really.”

She taps a finger against her chin. “And I noticed something interesting.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

She leans in slightly, and for half a second, I think she’s going to say something profound. Instead, she smirks.

“You play recklessly when you’re mad.”

I blink. “What?”

“That second-period goal? You only went for it because I pissed you off.”

She lifts a shoulder. “It’s cute, really. Like a little puppy trying to impress its owner.”

I let out a sharp laugh. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

She pats my chest like I’m some kind of pet, and I hate how much I enjoy it.

“It’s okay, Knight. I get it. I’m motivational.”

I grab her wrist before she can pull away, holding it just tight enough for her to stop and look up at me. The teasing in her expression falters just slightly, just enough for me to see it.

She feels it, too. The tension. The pull. The way this fire between us is only growing hotter every time we push against it. I lower my voice.

“You think you get in my head that easily?”

Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t back down.

“I know I do.”

I lean in just a little, my grip still firm.

“Careful, Angel Face. You might not like what happens if you keep playing this game with me.”

Her lips part slightly, and for a second, something unreadable flashes in her expression. Then she snatches her wrist back and steps away.

“We’ll see, Knight,”

she says, turning on her heel. “We’ll see.”

I watch her go, my pulse still racing. She’s going to drive me insane.

And I might let her.