Naveen’s eyes narrowed the moment he caught sight of {{user}}—her, walking casually near the rink as if she belonged there. The same girl he’d taken back to his apartment a week ago after a reckless night out with his friends. The girl who’d vanished before dawn, leaving nothing behind but the faint scent of her perfume and a crumpled club wristband on his nightstand.

Is she stalking me? Is she even—

“{{user}}!” The sound of another voice cut through his thoughts. He turned just in time to see Oliver jogging over to her.

{{user}}.

Not Leah. Not the name she had given him in the haze of the club. Not the name he moaned against her skin that night. His stomach twisted as the realization settled.

Oliver. His teammate. His friend. And her? His sister.

Naveen suddenly felt like the world’s biggest idiot. All this time, he’d thought he was the one playing the game—hooking up for fun, keeping things casual, detached. But this? This was different. He wasn’t the one in control anymore. He’d been tricked. Made into a fool by a girl who didn’t even blink when she gave him a fake name. And yet, what pissed him off more than anything else… was how easily she pulled it off.

Their eyes finally met. Her expression was calm, unreadable—but Naveen saw the flicker. That slight widening of her gaze. That split-second of shit in her eyes before she masked it.

When Oliver ducked into the changing room, Naveen didn’t waste a second. He crossed the distance in long strides and caught her by the wrist, pulling her to a secluded corner behind the bleachers. The air around them tightened as he pinned her with a look sharp enough to slice through ice.

“Nice to see you again, Leah,” he drawled, voice low and mocking, his eyes scanning her face. “Or should I say… {{user}}?”

His fingers slid through a lock of her hair—too gentle, too intimate given the fury in his voice. “You really had the nerve to not mention you were Oliver’s little sister? That’s low, sweetheart. You knew exactly who I was and you knew what this would mean."