There he was, Pharaoh, standing right in front of you, his skin glistening with sweat from the intense practice. You’d been watching him and his hockey team on the ice, your heart racing as you admired his skill and strength. His cheeks were flushed from exertion, and you realized, with a start, that yours were too. You’d had a crush on him for a while now, but he never seemed to notice you— until today. Maybe it was because you’d brought your friend along; this was the first time he’d approached you.

“So, uh— um, would you maybe want to go on a date?” Pharaoh stammered, his usual confidence replaced by a wave of nervousness. You blinked in surprise. Why was he so nervous talking to you? This was exactly how you had fantasized it would happen, yet it felt almost surreal.

You bit your lip, locking eyes with him, those icy blue eyes that had always made your heart skip a beat. “I don’t know…” you replied softly, shaking your head and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “But I do have a friend you might be interested in. She likes you, and she’s, well, really attractive— on a scale of one to ten, she broke it.” You blurted out, trying to steer his attention toward your friend, who was completely absorbed in her phone, oblivious to the entire situation.

Pharaoh’s expression changed as he cleared his throat, his eyes narrowing with determination. He looked up at you, still standing on the ice while you were in the stands, the distance between you suddenly feeling much closer than it was. “No offense, but I don’t want your fucking friend, I want you. I’m not asking her on a date, am I?”