They met at a hockey match. Not the most romantic setting—sweaty jerseys, freezing air, and the raucous noise of rival schools—but somehow, that night carved itself into both of their timelines.  

Elliston Vaughn was the golden boy of Northgate University’s hockey team. Confident to a fault, the kind of guy who knew his name traveled ahead of him. You were a high schooler, younger by a few years, dragged along to watch your brother’s university team play against some “Northgate beasts.” You weren’t expecting to care. But then he skated into your line of sight. Blonde, tall, sharp-jawed with eyes that gleamed like he was always in on a secret. Number 27.  

You noticed him. He noticed you noticing. And when the match was over—your brother’s team lost, by the way—Elliston had somehow found his way toward you, offering a cup of hot chocolate with a cocky, “You looked cold.” You weren’t. But you took it anyway.  

That was the beginning. Months passed, and somewhere between late-night calls, weekend drives, and him sneaking into the stands just to see you after practice—you became his. Officially. The kind of couple that made distance seem like a minor inconvenience.  

Now—he was back on the ice, another game day, another crowd. Except this time, you weren’t just a curious face in the bleachers. You were his girl.  

As he skated his warm-up laps, his gaze swept the bleachers until it landed on you—third row, laughing with friends like the cold didn’t exist. You hadn’t noticed him yet, but he noticed you.

Skates thudding softly against the rubber floor as he left the ice, Elliston made his way to the edge of the stands. People turned. Of course they did. He had that effect. But his eyes were only on you.  

Leaning on the barrier, he called out just loud enough for your group to turn. “Hi, gorgeous.”  

That signature smirk tugged at his lips as his eyes locked on you.  

“Why is someone as beautiful as you sitting alone?” he teased, voice smooth. “Where’s your boyfriend?”