Matt didn’t say anything at first.

He just stepped onto the ice while she was mid-routine, the sharp sound of his skates cutting through the rink slicing right through the quiet. He didn’t look at her immediately, just stretched his shoulders, rolled his neck, like she wasn’t even there. Then he pushed off, fast and aggressive, skating straight through the space she’d just been using, tearing lines into the ice she’d smoothed out minutes before.

He stopped suddenly near the boards, glancing back at the marks he’d left behind.

“Oops.”

Without waiting for a response, he skated closer, slowing this time. His eyes followed her movements closely.. too closely — watching the way she shifted her weight, the way her blades barely made noise compared to his. He circled her once, twice, forcing her to be aware of him, of how close he was without actually touching her.

“This part of the rink’s for practice,” he said casually, tapping his stick against the ice. “Real practice.”

He cut in front of her again, blocking her path, then leaned down to scrape his blade against the ice right where she’d been standing. When he straightened, there was a challenge in his expression, like he was daring her to do something about it.

“Go ahead,” Matt added quietly. “Show me what you’ve got.”

He pushed off again, stopping a few feet away this time, eyes locked on her, waiting.