Your dad had been coaching college hockey for as long as you could remember and for most of your life, it was something you two bonded over. You watched from the stands, helped him review game tapes and loved soaking in the electric energy of the rink. When you were younger, it was the highlight of your week, something you got to share just between the two of you.

Now, it felt different. Tense. Because of a particular hockey captain.

It started off small. Simon was just another player at first, just another guy in a jersey who was kind of too full of himself. Then came the glances during practice, eyes finding yours in the stands and lingering just a little too long.

That turned into multiple conversations. He would ask about your classes which somehow turned into you tutoring him, which then led to you staying over in his dorm after one stupid night.

Except one night turned into two, then three, then four… and then you weren’t sure when or if this would stop.

The locker room was silent when you stepped in, Simon sitting on the bench near the back, tying his skates with practiced ease. He always got here early, liked how quiet it was before the game.

But when the door creaked open, his eyes snapped up to find you; hands freezing on his laces.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, “You know this is a bad idea, {{user}},” he muttered. His gaze flickered to the door and then back to you. “Your dad catches you in here and I’ll be benched for the rest of the season.”