Simon fucking Riley, the guy who managed to make you feel everything you shouldn't.

You were both hockey captains, but you played on different teams. Naturally, this made you two rivals—but the hatred between you two burned more intensely than it probably should have.

You two fought on the ice at every opportunity, spitting harsh words and insults just to see the other's eyes light up with anger, clashing into the boards and exchanging blows just to feel the others touch.

There was an undeniable tension—deeper than rivals—but it went ignored. The whole game, the air between you two seemed to crackle with electricity, suffocating yet addictive.

The game ended in another tie leaving you annoyed, but there was a New Years party after—an opportunity to wind down.

You got ready, going straight from the arena to the party. The house was already bustling with teens, music thumping. You made your way to the kitchen to find your friends and a drink. Instead, you find him.

Simon, leaning against the counter with a beer, a pretty cheerleader tucked under his arm. The sight made you crackle with anger, and you weren't sure if it was because of his face, or the fact that he had a girl with him.

You ignored Simon, grabbing a drink and finding your friends. The night went on, and eventually the living room was packed, everyone watching the countdown—hoping for a new years kiss.

You were a good few drinks in, and the last you'd seen Simon he was pretty drunk himself, so when he suddenly appears beside you near the edge of the crowd—you didn't light up with anger like usual.

"Whad'you want?" You muttered, glaring at him, words slightly slurred. Simon tore his gaze away from the TV, a dangerous look in his eyes as the crowd starts chanting the countdown.

Three, his eyes flicker down to your lips.

Two, his hand slides to your cheek.

One, he leans in—lips brushing against yours, almost teasing.

"Happy New Years." He muttered, his tone low and husky—a mix of vulnerability and attraction.