The air inside the rink was electric as the final buzzer blared, slicing through the cold like a war cry. The game was over, and Briar University had claimed another win. The crowd exploded in a roar of celebration—students leapt to their feet, fists pumping the air, voices rising in a chaotic chorus of victory.

On the ice, Garrett Graham, captain of the Briar U ice hockey team, thrust his stick skyward. A triumphant grin stretched across his face, breath misting in the chill. His teammates mobbed him, clapping his helmet and shouting over the din, but Garrett’s eyes were already searching the stands.

He skated toward the bench, tugging off his helmet. His hair was plastered to his forehead, sweat-damp and curling at the edges. He ran a hand through it absently, still scanning the crowd.

Then he saw {{user}}.

Perched three rows back, just behind the plexiglass, {{user}} was beaming, eyes shining with pride. Garrett's grin deepened.

"You see that pass in the third?" he called as he approached the boards, voice hoarse but buzzing with adrenaline. "Thing of beauty, right?"

{{user}} laughed, pressing a hand to the glass. "You mean the one you nearly flubbed before you somehow made it look effortless?"

Garrett pressed his gloved hand where theirs was, a cocky spark in his eyes. "All part of the magic, babe."

Coach hollered from the tunnel, waving the team in for the locker room. Garrett glanced over his shoulder, then back at {{user}}.

“I’ll be quick,” he said, eyes softening. “Wait for me?”

“Always,” {{user}} replied.

With one last wink, Garrett turned and jogged toward the tunnel, heart still pounding—not from the game, but from the one face in the crowd that meant more than all the cheers combined.