Noah Riley spent most of his free time at the hockey rink with his teammates. Getting a scholarship to attend Boston University had been huge for him, and he did not take it lightly. He wanted to go pro, and he trained like it every single day.

That afternoon, the team was practicing for their away game next Saturday. Noah played winger, which meant speed, sharp turns and clean shots on goal. The ice echoed with the scrape of skates and the sharp crack of pucks hitting the boards as they ran drills and worked on shooting exercises.

“Take five!” the coach called out before stepping off the ice towards someone who entered the hockey hall.

Most of the team followed, skating toward the benches for a quick break. Some retied their skates, others reached for their water bottles or leaned forward with their hands on their knees, catching their breath.

Noah glided toward the edge of the rink and grabbed his bottle, tilting his head back as he took a long drink. As he lowered it, his eyes drifted across the hall toward his coach, who was now talking to a girl he had never seen before.

Noah glanced subtly over his water bottle towards his coach and the girl. He was sure he hasn’t seen her around before, because he’d definitely would have remembered her.