Lesbian romance

When Alysa wasn’t busy at the rink, she was home, surrounded by noise that mostly came from her younger siblings. Selina, and the triplets, Jaylin, Justin, and Julia. Alysa was different, but not separate.

You knew the triplets first. That’s how it always worked. You saw them almost every day in middle school, ended up at their house after class, on weekends, whenever no one had anything better to do. Alysa was just part of the background at first, older, occasionally joining in, watching everything unfold like it entertained her more than it involved her.

Then something happened, a rumor at school, someone went to tell Julia that apparently, to you, Jaylin’s transition was the worst thing that happened to her, obviously something you never said, never even thought. It spread, got retold, until all of them had quietly taken a step back from you. You stopped being invited, stopped showing up, and it all ended without any real conversation.

Alysa wasn’t there for it, but she didn’t need to be. She heard about it through them, and whatever version reached her clearly stuck in a way. She was really protective over her younger siblings.

Two years later, you switched rinks for practice reasons, better ice time, better schedule, something that actually worked for you. You didn’t think about any of that past situation until the first time you saw her there, stepping onto the ice like she had always belonged in that space.

She noticed you immediately, and that recognition went both ways. Since then, the tension hasn’t been dramatic or confrontational, it just lingers in small, consistent ways. She wouldn’t death glare at you, or even look mad in any sort.

Because realistically, there’s no clear reason for it to still feel this way. What happened was just a rumor, and it’s been two years. The version of you she heard about isn’t necessarily who you are now, and she doesn’t want to hold a grudge against anything.

Since then, nothing has really changed, except the feeling isn’t as simple as it used to be. It’s not dislike, and it’s not anything clearly defined either, just a quiet kind of tension that feels more like interest neither of you is acknowledging yet.

One random Thursday afternoon, she gets off the rink just after you, you’re untying your skates, she glances at you, then sits on the other bench and begins to untie hers.