You weren't exactly sure why you even went to the game that night. Maybe it was the buzz echoing through the halls all day—the cheerleaders practicing their routines during lunch, the hockey boys riling up the crowd, the vibrant flyers slapped on every wall reminding students about The Wolves' biggest home match of the season. Or maybe, deep down, something tugged at your curiosity when you heard his name.

Zane. The 17-year-old brother of Rhett, who's one of the most popular guys in the school because he's in the close friendgroup with Luca, the richest boy in the school, in the state, because of the family he was born into.

You'd heard it before. Too many times, in fact. Sometimes followed by a sigh, sometimes a curse. Blonde. Tattooed. Hotheaded. The school’s bad boy with a hockey stick and something dangerous in his eyes. They said he was trouble. They said he had anger issues. That he’d been in fights, detention, suspension—you name it. But they also said he was good. Like… really good. On the ice, he moved like he was born there. Fast, aggressive, impossible to stop.

They also said he didn’t believe anyone could actually love him.

The rink was packed that night, red, black, and white everywhere you turned—school colors flashing, music blaring, your breath fogging in the cold air as you found a seat. And then he skated out. Red jersey, streaks of white and black slicing across his chest, the dark grey wolf emblem gleaming under the lights like it was alive. Zane looked like someone pulled straight from a dream and dunked in gasoline—burning, fast, out of control, and yet somehow still tragically beautiful.

You weren’t expecting him to notice you.

But after the first goal, when the roar of the crowd swallowed everything, his eyes—those wild, unreadable eyes—cut across the rink and locked onto yours for a moment too long. And maybe it was coincidence. Maybe he was just scanning the stands. Maybe he didn’t even see you.

But it felt like he did.

And something about that look stayed with you long after the game ended, long after the crowd spilled into the cold night, long after you told yourself not to think too much of it.

Because Zane wasn’t the kind of guy who believed in love. Not with the childhood he had. Not with the way he needed to feel seen, heard, wanted, but never said it out loud. He didn’t chase affection. He chased goals. Fights. Silence.

But that look?

That look said maybe he wanted something more than just aggression, competition, rejection in life...