Hockey has always been a part of your life. Your dad was a coach, and you spent countless hours at the rink with him, watching the players, laughing at every fall, soaking in the energy of the game. It became a part of who you are, and even now, at 19, a freshman in college, it still feels inseparable from you.

It was Thursday evening. One of the San Jose Sharks’ practices had just ended, and most of the players were gone—except for Will. You’d always been drawn to him. Tall, confident, athletic—half temptation, half angel. There had always been a spark between you, but neither of you expected it to ignite so fast… at least, not tonight. You were just talking, leaning closer, when suddenly his lips found yours.

The kiss was electric, hungry, and impossible to resist. Your hands explored, pressing and pulling, feeling the heat of his body against yours. His knee slid between your legs, and a shiver ran through you as his lips trailed down your neck. One hand slipped under your shirt, the other holding your leg around his waist, and you didn’t pull away—you leaned in, matching him, letting yourself get lost in the intensity. He was about to move his hand lower, exactly where you wanted it, when the locker room door swung open.

Your heart stopped. Your dad stood there, frozen in the doorway, eyes wide. Everything—the heat, the tension, the stolen intimacy—crashed down at once. Will froze, and the moment shattered, leaving your pulse pounding and your breath catching as the reality hit: you had been caught.