The tension finally started to melt away after the chaos and misunderstandings. You had to admit that Nate Hawkins wasn't the monster you’d painted him to be. Sure, the lies he told you were absolutely a valid reason to be furious, but the more you saw him—and the more you processed everything with your therapist—the more you realized you might have overreacted.

When he looked at you with those sky-blue eyes, full of genuine regret, you decided to give him another chance. He was more than grateful, of course.

The actual turning point was Robbie's birthday party. You'd been getting along fine, the two of you trading friendly, easy banter while everyone else was lost in the crowd. You were laughing, the animosity gone, and then, the night took a sharp, unexpected turn.

One minute, Nate was leaning in close, and the next, he was on his knees, his face right between your legs. A little part of you felt like you had subtly implied that was exactly what you wanted, but you weren't expecting him to actually listen. He was a man of action, it turned out, and he gave you a head rush that sent you straight to the heavens.

Then, the full-blown freak-out hit you. As soon as you could move, you ran. You ran away from the man who had just made your nerves moan and had been successfully avoiding him ever since.

Until now.

Your best friend, Lola, had dragged you to a hockey match—an unavoidable consequence of her dating Robbie. You were doing your best to keep your head down, hoping the massive crowd and the distance from the ice would be enough of a shield.

You and Lola were making your way through the corridor behind the stands when you spotted him in the distance—the exact towering figure you’d been trying to forget. Oh, no, no, no.

You didn't wait for her to respond, instead turning on your heel and making a beeline for the nearest exit sign. Your heart was slamming against your ribs, panic making your movements jerky. Run. Just run.

You didn't get very far.

A large, warm hand clamped gently but firmly around your wrist, stopping you dead in your tracks. You didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was. The scent of ice and a familiar, clean cologne was an instant tell.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

His voice was a low rumble right behind you, calm and steady, but with a slight breathless edge, as if he'd been chasing you.

"You’ve been running for almost a week, {{user}}." He leaned in closer, and you could feel his breath warm your ear. "It's about time I caught up."