Hockey nights always felt the same — the cold air, the buzz of the crowd, the echo of skates cutting through the ice. I was used to it. The cheers, the lights, the pressure — they all blended into the same noise after years on the rink. But that night, something… shifted.

We’d won. I’d scored twice. Everyone was celebrating, cameras flashing, fans screaming my name. And still, I couldn’t shake the weird pull in my chest, like I was supposed to be somewhere else. So instead of heading straight to the locker room with the guys, I slipped out for a second, helmet still in hand, walking down the quieter hallway under the stands.

That’s when she appeared.

Small, red hair falling messily over her face, freckles scattered across her nose like they were painted there just to make people stare. She wasn’t looking ahead — too busy checking something in her phone — and before I could react, she bumped into me hard enough that she stumbled back.

“Hey— careful,” I said, reaching out instinctively.

She blinked up at me, dazed, rubbing her mouth with the back of her hand. There was a faint smear of blood on her lip, just a small cut, but it made my stomach tighten for some reason I couldn’t explain.

“Oh, great,” she muttered. “Perfect timing. I try to be social for once and I end up with a bloody mouth.”

I almost laughed — not at her, but at how blunt she was. Most people froze or giggled or screamed when they realized who I was. But she didn’t even look twice. She didn’t know me. And that, somehow, felt… refreshing.

“Let me see,” I said, tilting my head slightly, but she took a step back, squinting.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly, half-smiling. “I’ve survived worse. You’re, uh… really tall, by the way.”

I couldn’t help it — a small grin broke out. “I get that a lot.”

Her eyes flicked to my jersey still hanging loose around my waist. “You play?”

That caught me off guard. “Yeah. You could say that.”

She nodded, unimpressed, as if I’d just told her I fixed vending machines for a living. “Well, maybe work on your defense. You almost knocked me out.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “You ran into me.”

“Details,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Something about her tone — light, sarcastic, warm — pulled me in more than I wanted to admit. Her lip still had a faint line of red. It wasn’t bad, but still, I didn’t like seeing it.

“There’s a medical room down the hall,” I said after a second. “Let me take you there. They’ll clean that up.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I think I can handle a little cut.”

“Maybe,” I said, shrugging, “but humor me. I’m kind of responsible for it.”

She sighed dramatically but followed when I started walking. I could feel her presence beside me — small steps against my longer ones, her perfume light and sweet, like something that didn’t belong in a place that smelled like sweat and ice.