𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭

eleven

Kaiden

I took a deep breath as I stepped onto the rink, inhaling the familiar, chilled air.

There was something about an empty rink before a game that felt almost sacred—silent, untouched, like the calm before a storm. As I tightened the laces on my skates, I let my eyes drift over the empty rows of seats, the distant hum of the arena lights filling the quiet.

The team was in the locker room finishing up their prep, but I'd slipped out early.

I always needed a few minutes alone on the ice, a small ritual that let me focus and let the day's noise fade away. I ran through drills in my head, movements I'd practiced thousands of times but which still grounded me, like mental bookmarks.

Skating out alone always made me feel like the game was mine before it even started, like I could set the stage.

I did a few quick sprints across the ice to loosen up, the cold stinging my cheeks. I was somewhere between mentally checking off the usual warm-up routine and fine-tuning my aim with an imaginary puck when I caught sight of someone near the rink's entrance.

Delphine.

She wasn't supposed to be here.

My focus shifted immediately, watching as she stood near the boards, arms crossed, her expression unreadable as usual.

She was dressed casually, but her posture was rigid, almost like she was reluctantly rooting herself to the spot. For a split second, I wondered if she'd come here by accident or if, somehow, she was here on purpose.

I tried to keep my attention on my drills, but something about her presence made the ice feel different, sharper, like it was charged with some weird, magnetic energy.

She was quiet, her face set in that focused look she had, but her eyes followed me, never wavering.

If there was one thing I knew about Delphine, it was that she didn't give anything away easily. She always seemed indifferent, like the whole world was background noise. But here she was, standing at the edge of the rink, eyes locked on me in a way that felt unsettlingly intense.

I tried to shake off the feeling, ignoring the flutter of something.

Annoyance?

Curiosity?

I told myself I didn't care what she thought, that she was just another person in the crowd, but I could feel her eyes on me, tracking my every move.

The buzzer sounded from somewhere behind me, signaling that the game was about to start, and I forced myself to turn away from her and head toward the locker room.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

The minutes before a game were always a mix of nerves and excitement.

The locker room was buzzing with the usual noise, teammates talking and laughing, hyping each other up as they pulled on their jerseys and adjusted their gear.

I let the chatter fill my head, tried to drown out any lingering thoughts of the unexpected visitor watching from the stands. But it was hard to shake that feeling. Her image seemed burned into my brain—those focused eyes, the way she stood as if she were some unmovable force.

Ethan slapped me on the back, breaking me out of my thoughts. "You good, man?"

"Yeah, just focused," I replied, shrugging it off. Ethan didn't press, just gave me a knowing grin as he grabbed his stick and followed the rest of the team out.

Stepping onto the rink again felt different this time, the arena filled with the sounds of the crowd cheering, the vibrations thrumming through the ice beneath me. We lined up, ready to face off, and I forced myself to keep my gaze on the opposing team and not wander back to the stands where I knew she'd be.

The game kicked off with an intensity that left no room for distractions. My instincts took over, movements automatic and fluid as we skated across the rink, pushing ourselves harder and faster with each minute. I became one with the ice, the stick, the puck—losing myself in the rhythm of the game. Every sound around me faded into the background, the roar of the crowd blending with the slap of sticks and the scrape of blades.

There were a few close calls, moments where we almost lost the puck or missed an opening, but we kept up, kept pushing, never backing down. The other team was tough, aggressive, and I could feel my muscles straining with each turn, each sprint. But I thrived on it, that familiar adrenaline rush making my focus sharper.

We were halfway through the third period when I found myself scanning the stands without really meaning to. There, near the center, she was still watching, that same unreadable expression on her face. Our gazes met for just a second, and it threw me off, my grip on the stick tightening as I forced my attention back to the game.

"What the hell are you doing?" I muttered to myself, shaking my head.

We barely managed to snag the final goal in the last minute, securing our win. The crowd erupted, people cheering and clapping, and I felt that surge of pride mixed with exhaustion as we celebrated. Ethan was slapping me on the back, our teammates shouting and grinning, but I couldn't shake that lingering feeling.

As the team filed off the ice, I let myself glance toward the stands again, half-expecting her to be gone. 

But she was still there, watching as we skated off, her expression as impassive as ever.