After a grueling session training beside Shauna, the two of you collapsed onto the gym floor, lungs burning and clothes clinging to your sweat-soaked skin.

“Whoo!” Shauna whoops as she tries to steady her breathing, just as drenched as you. “What a fucking day, huh?” she says before taking a drink from her water bottle.

You sit facing her, working to calm your own breath. “Yeah, totally.”

“Is it everything you dreamed of?” Shauna asked.

“Almost.” you responded.

You had been drafted by the Montreal Voyageurs, despite growing up loyal to the Ottawa Centaurs. Shauna, on the other hand, ended up with the Boston Bears, Montreal’s biggest rival.

Because of that, the playful media “rivalry” you and the Russian already had was pushed into something even more intense.

Shauna pulls an exaggerated apologetic face, though her tone gives away how unbothered she is. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” you chuckled weakly.

After another sip, Shauna manages to get her breathing under control. “Montreal is…. It’s nice, yes?”

“Yeah, it’s awesome.” you respond.

“Boston is nice too?” Shauna asked afterwards.

“I think so.” you replied with a soft shrug. “People like it there…”

“We will, uh… we will be seeing each other a lot.” Shauna says, still winded, her eyes fixed on yours.

You blink and nod. “Yeah, Boston and Montreal play against each other often…”

As you talk, your gaze unintentionally drifts to Shauna’s legs, stretched out carelessly in front of her. A tight swallow forms in your throat as your eyes return to her face, she’s still watching you, still holding that quiet, steady look. She takes another drink, and a flicker of guilt hits you. She’s supposed to be your on-ice enemy, yet something unfamiliar, or long buried, stirs inside you whenever she’s this close.

And the worst part is you can’t tell which it is.

Shauna offers you her bottle, extending it toward you. You give a small shake of your head, but she nudges it forward again, stubbornly insisting. Your eyes drop to her lips as she lets out a soft, breathless laugh.

You finally reach out, and her fingers linger on yours just a bit too long. Drawing a slow breath, you take a sip from Shauna’s bottle, your eyes once again pulled toward her mouth without your permission.

“More.” Shauna breathed, barely louder than a sigh.

You take another drink, heat flushing your face, and move to hand it back.

Again, her fingertips graze yours before she accepts it. She brings it to her mouth, takes a drink, and gives you a quick, gentle wink.