Bring it on

Chapter 10

I can feel my legs burn as I glide across the ice, the cold air sharp against my skin. It's a feeling I love and hate all at once-the intensity, the control, the precision. But today, something is different in my movements. A heaviness, a hesitation that wasn't there before.

The rink is almost empty, the lights above casting long shadows across the ice, but I couldn't get the thought of him out of my head.

Ethan

I glance toward the far side of the rink, where hockey players were practicing. They were all in their gear, skating with a raw power that made the ice tremble beneath them. But my eyes immediately landed on one person: Ethan, the guy I couldn't stop thinking about.

He's skating circles around them, moving with such fluidity in his stride and grace, controlling the puck effortlessly almost like an extension of his body. The speed, the fluidity-it was amazing. But it's not just his skill that draws me in; it's him. The way he moves, the way he always seems to know where I am. He's always so focused, but whenever his gaze catches mine, there's a flicker-something unspoken.

I try to shift the thought of him aside, but it's hard. It's always hard.

I refocus on the floor of the rink, pushing myself into a tight spin, and halfway through, I falter. I lose just enough balance that my heart jumps in my chest. My skates scrape across the ice with that jarring sound, and I instinctively reach out to catch myself.

Before I can fall, a hand grips my arm, steadying me.

"Hey, you okay?" Ethan's voice is low and warm, a stark contrast to the chill of the rink.

I stop dead, my breath catching. The hand on my arm is still there, his fingers curled around my jacket sleeve, grounding me in a way that feels altogether too intimate. I glance up at him; my chest tightens. He's right there, standing so close. His hockey gear is still on, the helmet tucked under one arm, his hair messier than usual from underneath the helmet, and yet there is something soft in the set of his eyes that makes my pulse start to skitter.

"yeah, just lost my balance," I manage to get out, my voice much shakier than I would have liked.

"You sure?" He doesn't back off, his eyes scanning me as if looking for some sort of sign that something's off. His proximity is confusing things for me, making a normal train of thought difficult.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I force a smile and try to shake the weird flutter in my stomach.

"Good," he says, his lips tugging up in a crooked grin. "You have to be careful out here. The ice can be pretty mean.

I nod, trying to steady my breathing. "I know. I've been on this rink a thousand times, but today's just different."

He raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "How so?"

I shrug, the weight of his question pulling at me. How can I explain it? How can I explain that every time I see him, something shifts in my chest, the air feels heavier, that every glide across the ice somehow brings me closer to him?

I don't have an answer and so I just look down at my skates and shrug again. "I guess I'm just distracted."

"By what?" He takes a step closer, his eyes on mine now, and I feel my cheeks warming.

"Just, life, I guess." I make myself hold his gaze, but the words ring a little false, as though they don't even touch on the surface of what's going on in my mind.

Ethan's expression softens. "You sure it's just life?

I fumble, not knowing quite what to say or whether I should say anything at all. But he nods before I can say a word, as if something has been decided in his mind. "Okay, I won't push."

The sincerity in his voice makes my heart do a little jig. Why does he have to be so. him? The more I try to draw away, the more he pulls me in.

He steps back, just enough to give me space but not enough for me to forget the warmth of his presence. "You want to try something?"

I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?

He grins mischievously. "I'll teach you a few things on the ice, if you're up for it. We can swap skills. You show me some of those jumps and spins again, and I'll show you how to handle a puck without losing your balance."

I laugh. "You want me to teach you to spin and jump like some sort of figure skater?" I say, sounding casual. "You think you can keep up?"

His eyes sparkle with challenge. "You'd be surprised how much I can keep up with."

I'm sure I shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be this close to him. The lines between us have already blurred enough. I should be worrying about my own training, my own routines, not get distracted by the guy who makes my heart race in ways I can't even begin to understand.

But I'm already nodding, already moving toward him before I've even fully processed the decision.

"Alright," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Let's see what you've got."

He laughs, and for a moment, the world around us melts away. It's just him and me, the coolness of the ice beneath our feet, the quiet hum of the rink filling the space between us. There's something undeniably magnetic about him, something that makes it hard to stay away.

And as we step onto the ice together, I feel it again-the shift that pulls us closer, when I know better than to let it happen.