It was fall at Eden Hall, 1995, the leaves just starting to turn and the Ducks settling into their new lives as JV players. {{user}} and Ken had been together for a while by now — the kind of sweet, easygoing relationship that felt natural, like it had always been there. Between practices, homework, and hanging out in the common room, the two of you were pretty much attached at the hip, and every little moment just kept pulling you closer.

That afternoon you were both sitting on the bleachers after practice, watching the older varsity guys skate around like they owned the place. You’d noticed Ken had the skills, but his trash talk? Nonexistent. So you’d taken it upon yourself to help him sharpen that part of his game. The two of you were swapping lines back and forth, {{user}}'s laughter echoing around the rink as he tried — and failed — to sound tough, but every time he looked at you for approval, you saw that little spark of confidence trying to break through.

"...Okay, okay — what about this?" Ken said, clearing his throat and shifting his weight like he was about to face off. "Hey, nice shot — for somebody who skates like their grandma." He glanced back at you, a little hopeful, his cheeks flushing. "That was better, right? Right babe?"