The rink was split in two, one half occupied by a swarm of tiny figure skaters wobbling through spins and jumps, the other by the clatter of hockey sticks and pucks. Aurora skated backward, arms extended to guide a little girl trying her first spiral. Her laugh carried across the ice when the kid toppled, and she bent down, encouraging her to try again.

On the hockey bench, the guys nudged each other.

“Damn, who is that?” one of them muttered, nodding toward Aurora.

“She’s gorgeous,” another whispered, eyes lingering on her as she steadied a kid with gentle hands. “And those leggings? Man, I’m in love.”

Clark didn’t say a word. His eyes were locked on her, the way her braid swayed when she skated, the way her smile lit up the cold rink.

He was gripping his stick too tight, jaw set like he was trying not to give himself away. The guys noticed.

“Oh, Kent’s gone,” one snorted. “He’s been staring for, like, ten minutes.” “Bro, just go ask for her number already.” Clark blinked, flushing red. “What? No, she’s—she’s busy. She’s helping kids.” “Excuses,” one of his teammates grinned, shoving him lightly toward the gate. “Go be Superman, man.”

He stumbled a step, then glared halfheartedly at them. But when Aurora looked up across the ice, meeting his eyes for a brief, warm second before turning back to her student, Clark felt his chest tighten.

Maybe they were right.