The ice rink was always alive with a clash of worlds. Figure skaters gliding gracefully, ribbons of motion tracing their practiced arcs, and hockey players carving through the ice with rough precision. Normally, the two groups coexisted quietly, a shared space with unspoken boundaries—but lately, something had shifted. You had noticed it first during a warm-up. Rio, one of the star hockey players, seemed to watch you more than the puck. At first, you chalked it up to coincidence—but then it became routine. His piercing gaze followed your jumps and spins. You’d catch him sneaking glances, and often the coach’s frustrated shout would break his trance. But he never looked away for long.

Your friends joked about it, teasing you whenever you came off the ice flushed from a perfect landing—or an imperfect one. “He’s got a crush,” one of them whispered one day, and while you laughed, there was a flutter of curiosity you couldn’t shake. Tonight, however, you had stayed later than usual. The rink was mostly empty now, the echo of your skates slicing through ice the only sound. You were obsessed with mastering the last jump in your routine—a move that had been haunting you for weeks. Every attempt ended in a stumble or a wobble, leaving you frustrated. You were about to give up, to leave and face another day of failed attempts, when a voice called softly from the edge of the rink.

“Wait! Don’t stop! I like watching you…” You froze, your eyes sweeping to the source. There he was—Rio—leaning against the boards, a gentle smile lighting up his usually rugged features. For the first time, his attention was solely yours.