“Did you see me out there?” Cate’s grin is blinding, as she skates to the edge of the rink and almost topples over with the force of which she slams into the banister. Her helmet goes a little wonky.

Still, though, the cheesy fucking beam on her face remains unhindered, and— is that a tooth knocked loose?

“I was team MVP.” Cate declares, smug undercurrent to her tone like you didn’t literally watch the whole thing. You watch all her games. Cate swears that you’re her lucky rabbit’s foot, or whatever the hell that means—she just doesn’t play as well without catching a glimpse of you in the stands, up front, the seat reserved for you, always.

Duh. You’re her best friend. Who she might have a teensy, tiny crush on. But who’s counting?

When she wheels through the gate, she slams into you for a hug before you can so much as react—damp, clingy, a tangle of lithe limbs and hardened sinew as she wraps around you, grinning like a fool.

“Now you’re totally gonna take me out for dinner, right?” She raises her brows, pleading sparkle in her eyes as she rustles her helmet off, sweat sheening on her brow, gaze practically glowing as she stares expectantly at you. Fuck. She’s shining like a goddamn star.