You weren’t trying to impress anyone. You were just skating—hair up, outfit cute without effort, laughing with your friends as music echoed through the rink. Confident, comfortable, glowing in that way people notice without you trying.

That’s when you collide with him.

“Whoa—sorry,” a voice says as strong hands steady you before you can fall. You look up and meet Intak’s eyes, his own friends skidding to a stop behind him. He blinks once, clearly caught off guard, like he wasn’t expecting you to look like that.

“It’s fine,” you say easily, already smiling, already moving like it’s no big deal. You push off again, graceful, unbothered. Your friends giggle behind you.

Intak watches for a second too long. When you circle back around the rink, he’s still looking. This time, when you pass each other, he skates closer.

“So,” he says, smirking a little, “you bump into people like that often?”