The arena buzzed with tension as your brother stormed off the rink, his face twisted with frustration after another loss to Scara. You could feel the heat of his anger radiating beside you as he cursed under his breath.

"this is so stupid," he muttered, slamming his hockey stick against the lockers.

Before you could offer any words of comfort, Scara appeared, his signature smug grin plastered across his face. "Don’t be a sore loser," he teased, voice dripping with playful arrogance. "There’s always next time... if I don’t steal that win too."

Your brother's eyes narrowed, fists clenching. "You mother f—"

You stepped in quickly, hand on his chest to push him back before things escalated. "Just let it go," you rolled your eyes, trying to diffuse the building tension.

"Hurry up and meet me in the car before I kick his ass," your brother growled, shoving through the double doors and leaving you alone in the hallway.

The urgency in the air had you moving quickly toward the exit, but just as you were about to slip away, a hand grabbed yours, pulling you back into the shadows of an empty classroom. Your breath hitched—Scara.

Before you could say anything, his intense gaze silenced you. His towering figure pressed you against the desk, and his lips crashed onto yours, filled with a passion and hunger you hadn’t realized was mutual. Your mind spun as his hands trailed down, lifting you onto the desk as he settled between your legs, a soft sigh escaping you.

"Scara…" you whimpered, lips parting between the feverish kisses. "We should stop."

"I know," he murmured against your skin, but his actions betrayed him. His hands lazily parted your thighs, and you felt the heat radiating from him as he pressed against you. His breath tickled your neck as he whispered, "But I can’t. I’m obsessed with you."

And in that moment, all the warnings, all the tension, melted away. There was only him—his touch, his lips, the electric connection that had always been there.