You had no idea why you were standing in your College’s ice-skating rink, but you were, and the girl you had to blame for it was staring out at the guys on the ice with a weird amount of awe.

Her obsession for them had grown a sickening amount, and now you had to pay for it as she dragged you to one of their practices. All because she liked one of the guys.

It wasn’t even a game.

Claire sidled up next to the entry onto the ice, just behind the dasher boards and tempered glass. You sighed, resigning yourself to your fate, and approaching her.

Your eyes landed on a particular player. He stood out against the rest, in a way you couldn’t quite describe. The way he moved, the way he held himself, everything. He was faster and more agile, commanding those around him with ease.

It was obvious he was leagues above the rest.

Number 13.

You must’ve been a little too distracted, because as one of the cleaners pushed past, they knocked you. Your phone flew out of your flimsy grip, over the only part of the barrier that didn’t have the tempered glass, and skidded multiple feet across the ice.

You stared at it dumbfounded, because this was the kind of stuff that only happened in your nightmares.

Nico was having a shitty enough day as it was. Play-offs were right around the corner and no one seemed to be focusing anywhere near as much as they should’ve been.

He was basically carrying all of them by himself, and it was frustrating. This was one of the last few practices before the qualifying rounds, and he was on his last fraying nerve.

He was pretty sure if they fucked up one more simple pass, he was going to hurt someone. And he wasn’t a violent person by any means. There was a reason he’d made it this far, and he wasn’t going to let it all go to hell because of the rest of them.

Nico was so focused on the mess of frustration in his head, and just lining up his next shot to his teammate on the other end, he didn’t notice the phone that flew onto the ice.

Or the girl that came chasing after it.

The puck was flying towards your head before he had a moment to even think. “Shit, watch out!”

You didn’t hear him in time, obviously. The small black puck collided with the back of your head.

Nico cursed under his breath as his anger melted to guilt and concern, and skated over to you, dropping down next to you. “Damnit,” he hissed to himself, looming over your unconscious form. “You okay? Jesus- I’m so sorry.”

He decided to play it safe, gently gathering you up in his arms and lifting you bridal style. “I’m taking her up to the office,” Nico called over his shoulder to the rest of his team. “Keep going.” And then he marched off the ice.