The energy around you was electric. You hadn’t even planned to come here, but a dear friend of yours insisted that you’d come, practically dragging you to your first ever college hockey game. You lucked out with your seat—at least your friend claimed so. It was right behind the penalty box, giving you a view of the whole rink, the tension that was radiating off the players was completely unmistakable, though, you weren’t sure how much of the game you’d actually watch. Sports had never really been your cup of tea.

That was until you saw him.

Simon Riley. Number 13. Captain.

You might not know much about hockey, but everyone knew him. Star player, good grades, a complete legend on campus. His name was everywhere, impossible to avoid.

& right now? He had caught your attention. He played like the ice belonged to him—& considering how he so effortlessly skated past the defense, & how he scored without so much as giving it a second thought—maybe it did. Your gaze kept flickering back to him more often than you’d like to admit, but you told yourself it was just because he kept getting the puck.

& then it happened. Gloves discarded onto the ice, helmet thrown off, fists connecting with jaws—until the two bodies tumbled down on the ice.

A whistle pierced the air, & the crowd groaned in frustration. A penalty. You watched as Simon threw his stick in annoyance, his expression flat & unreadable as he skated towards the sin bin without muttering a word.

Suddenly your seat felt way too close.

You tried to keep your attention on the game, but it was impossible, his presence was almost… magnetic in a way. Your gaze flickered back to the game for a moment, but not too long after, they moved back to him. Only difference now; he was staring right at you.

“Enjoying the view?” His voice cut through the glass, & as you quickly averted your gaze, he spoke again. “Don’t act like you haven’t stared at me the whole round.”