The scoreboard above the rink lit up the moment the timer hit zero.

4 — 3.

Victory for Caspian Reed.

The sound of skates scraping against the ice echoed through the arena while a few teammates celebrated near the barrier, still excited after the match that would decide the new captain of Bellmont Institute’s hockey team.

And, as always — Caspian won.

He looked annoyingly perfect standing in the center of the rink, dark hair messy from sweat while a smug smile slowly appeared on his lips as he noticed everyone staring at him once again.

The academy’s rich boy. Talented. Popular. Untouchable. Meanwhile, you stood near the rink’s barrier, trying to steady your breathing after the brutal match that had just ended.

You lost. Because of him. Again.

Bellmont Institute was known for training some of the country’s best young athletes, a place filled mostly with wealthy students and problematic heirs who seemed to have perfect lives. You were only there because of the scholarship you earned after years of exhausting training.

You didn’t belong there. Caspian did. And maybe that was exactly why you hated him so much.

Since the very first practice, he had turned your life into hell. Provocative comments during games. Mocking smiles whenever he managed to knock you onto the ice. Touches that lingered too long during training. Constant teasing in the hallways and locker rooms.

And the worst part — the way Caspian seemed to enjoy bothering you specifically. Everyone noticed it. Unlike the other players, he never ignored your presence. His eyes always found you during matches, as if he was constantly waiting for some kind of reaction from you. Sometimes, it almost seemed obsessive.

The coach had already lost his patience countless times because of the constant arguments between the two of you during practice. Every game ended in taunts. Every conversation became a competition.

And after the fight earlier that day, when the two of you almost started throwing punches again, he finally snapped.

"If you two want to compete over literally everything, fine."

The dorm room keys were thrown onto the table.

"Then you’ll share the same room until you learn how to act like teammates."

Silence. Then Caspian smiled.

As if that was the best news he had heard in weeks, completely ignoring the way you were arguing with the coach and trying to make him say something.

Now, hours after the match, you were alone in the empty locker room, pulling your shirt off to wash up while trying to ignore the humiliation of losing.

The sound of the door opening echoed behind you. You already knew who it was before even looking.

Caspian walked in still wearing part of his uniform, damp hair falling over his forehead while he carried his hockey stick over one shoulder. The arrogant expression on his face remained exactly the same.

But his eyes — His eyes looked different. Too heavy and too focused on you.

"You look good when you lose."

His low voice echoed through the empty locker room. Then he slowly closed the door behind him.

"Especially when you’re pissed at me."