Edge Of The Ice (On Going And Own Book)

Cold Beggings. 2

Alex forced himself to focus, keeping his strides strong and steady. He couldn't afford distractions, especially not today. The tournament was coming up, and he needed every spare second on the ice to prove himself. Not just to his coach or his teammates, but to himself. He was always proving something—always fighting for space in a world that never seemed to make enough room for him.

As he sped around the rink, he felt the familiar burn in his legs, the satisfying stretch of his muscles pushing harder with each lap. The sting of the cold air against his skin was sharp, but grounding. This was where he belonged. The rest of the world faded away when he was moving like this. Here, it didn’t matter who he was, what people thought of him, or the whispers behind his back. Here, Alex was just another skater on the ice.

But then, they were still there.

Cass spun again, some impossible move that Alex could never pull off even if he tried. The movement was flawless, as always. The way they bent and flowed across the ice—it made it look like they weren’t even trying. Alex hated that. Cass never seemed to have to try for anything, like the world just handed them whatever they wanted. Maybe it was just the way they carried themselves, like nothing touched them. Not the cold, not the pressure, not even the fact that they had no right to be out here right now.

Cass glided past him, too close for comfort, the edge of their skate barely missing his. Alex’s heart jumped into his throat, but he didn’t let it show. No way was he giving Cass the satisfaction of knowing they rattled him. Cass flicked a glance his way, the corner of their mouth twitching like they were holding back a laugh.

"Nice moves, Rivera," Cass said, their voice smooth and teasing. "Trying to keep up?"

Alex clenched his jaw. “I’m not here to play games, Aldridge.”

Cass raised an eyebrow, skating backward with ease. "Could’ve fooled me. Looks like you’re doing laps around me."

“I’m here to practice, not get in your way,” Alex shot back, trying to keep his voice steady. His pulse was already spiking, and not because of the speed.

Cass didn’t respond, just kept that same smirk in place as they pivoted and sped away, leaving Alex to simmer in his own frustration.

God, why did they always have to push his buttons? Every single time.

Alex forced himself to focus again, setting his mind back on the drills he’d planned out in his head. He didn’t have time for Cass’s games. He had to be better, faster. If he let himself get distracted now, it’d show later on the ice when it mattered. That thought alone pushed him harder.

But as he moved into a tight turn near the boards, he caught a glimpse of Cass again—this time, mid-air, launching into a perfect triple jump.

His legs wobbled for a second, his balance slipping, and Alex cursed under his breath as he stumbled to regain control. He skidded to a stop, biting back his frustration. He hadn’t meant to look, hadn’t meant to let them throw him off, but there they were—taking up space in his head when all he wanted was a clear path forward.

He hated that.

Taking a deep breath, Alex shook out his arms, reminding himself why he was here. He wasn’t going to let Cass Aldridge, with their effortless perfection and irritating smirk, ruin his morning. He had work to do.