The game was at a standstill, a timeout called by Ethan’s coach to regroup the team. The scoreboard showed a tied score, and the tension in the arena was palpable. Players huddled around the bench, listening to the coach’s strategy, but Ethan’s attention kept drifting elsewhere—to the boards, where {{user}} stood.

They were right where they always were, their scarf wrapped tightly around their neck, eyes locked on the ice. But they weren’t alone. A guy was leaning in, talking to them with the kind of confidence that made Ethan’s jaw tighten. He was tall, wearing an expensive-looking jacket, and his overly familiar posture sent a surge of annoyance through Ethan’s veins.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in the general section?” the guy said to {{user}}, flashing what he probably thought was a winning grin. “Wanna upgrade to a suite?” {{user}} gave a polite smile, trying to edge away. “Oh, um… I’m alright.”

Ethan, barely listening to his coach now, watched as the guy continued talking, leaning in too close for Ethan’s liking. The rest of the team was focused on the game plan, but Ethan was already turned toward the glass, his frustration mounting.

“It’s a great view,” the man insisted, “Though I’m certainly not complaining about the one right in front of me…”

Unable to hold back any longer, Ethan skated over, tapping his stick loudly against the glass right in front of the guy. The sound echoed sharply, drawing attention from the nearby fans and making the guy jump back in surprise.

{{user}}’s eyes widened when they saw Ethan, his face a mix of protectiveness and annoyance.

“Hey!” Ethan shouted through the barrier, his voice muffled but unmistakably clear. “You got something to say?”

The guy blinked, caught off guard by the sudden interruption. He glanced at Ethan, then back at {{user}}, realizing too late that he was being called out. “I was just—”

“Yeah, no,” Ethan cut him off, his tone sharp. “Not interested. You’re done.” He pointed toward the stands, signaling the guy to move along.