It was just you in the ice skating rink— putting your gear away after your last game.

You felt a little bummed as your team lost by more than several points and it’s been stressing you out so bad you felt as if extra practice would help, maybe.

You thought you were alone until you saw a silhouette fly past in the window in front of you.

“What the hell?” You mutter, standing up with your skates still on and your stick in hand to enter the rink now; being met by someone with long blonde hair twisting and twirling over the ice. A figure skater, clearly.

You were about to scoff and tell them to get off the ice before you saw his face. Fully freckled, even in this freezing temperature inside the building. His eyes wide but focused as he made sure to follow his routine— the prettiest and maybe most perfect lips you’ve ever seen on a female, much less a man.

Just then, you could feel your face heating up as your eyes trailed down, nearly dropping your stick while you saw how skin tight his uniform was. And the open back of it didn’t help calm your nerves either: a small tattoo of angel wings and a few tiny words under it peeked out from the leotard.

You felt sick. What was this feeling bubbling up in your chest?

Just a moment later, the gorgeous— the man walked up to you, out of breath and looking worrid.

“Oh jeez— did I hog the rink? Sorry I didn’t know you guys had practice today..” He looked at your knee pads and stick, almost looking uncomfortable around you at first.

And fuck. He was prettier up close.