Johnny was far too early. He checked the clock on his phone for the third time, frowning at it like it might change its mind. Practice wasn’t for another half hour. The locker room would be empty, cold, and boring. Just him, the hum of fluorescent lights and far too much time to think. So instead of heading in, he slung his bag over his shoulder and wandered toward the rink, figuring he’d see if any of the lads were already around. Maybe someone else had turned up early. Maybe there’d be a stick to tape or a coffee to steal. The rink, though, was almost empty. No teammates. No clatter of gear. Just a handful of skaters on the ice and the soft scrape of blades cutting into freshly resurfaced ice. Johnny paused by the glass, hesitating, then leaned against it, arms folding loosely as he watched. He played ice hockey, had done for most of his life, so the rink itself was familiar. What wasn’t familiar was watching from this side. He usually came in, got changed and went straight back out. He never paid attention to who trained here outside of his own team.

That was probably why he’d never noticed {{user}} before. She was at the far end of the rink with her trainer, music drifting softly from a speaker near the boards. This clearly wasn’t a once in a while thing. {{user}} moved like someone who knew the rink well, like she’d logged countless hours here. She trained three or four times a week, sometimes more when competitions were coming up, carving out time wherever she could. The ice wasn’t just a place she visited, it was part of her routine, her life. Johnny watched without meaning to. Her routine was clean and controlled, every movement deliberate. She built speed smoothly, jumps snapping tight in the air before she landed so quietly it barely echoed. Her spins were centred, balanced, practiced to perfection. There was no rush, just confidence. And she looked good doing it, focused and self assured, completely at home.

By the time the music faded and her trainer waved her off, Johnny realised he’d been standing there far longer than he’d planned. {{user}} skated to the boards and stepped off the ice, sitting on a chair to switch her shoes. She reached for her guards, clipping them onto her blades with quick, familiar movements. Johnny pushed away from the glass and walked over before he could talk himself out of it. “Hey,” he said, keeping his tone easy. “You finished?” She glanced up, surprised, then smiled. “Yeah. Just taking the skates off.” He nodded toward the rink. “I don’t usually stop to watch, normally I’m already geared up but your routine looked really good.” “Thanks,” she said, tightening a lace. “I’m here most days. Three, sometimes four times a week.” “That explains it,” Johnny replied. “You look like you know the ice.” She laughed softly. “I should. I spend enough time on it.” He shifted his weight, then added, honestly, “You looked comfortable out there. Confident.”

{{user}} tilted her head, eyes flicking up at him with a teasing spark. “So what, you come here early to watch girls skate?” Johnny froze. “What? No no,” he said immediately, hands lifting in defence. “I play hockey. I was just early. I don’t, this isn’t something I do, I swear.” She laughed, clearly amused by how fast he’d panicked. “Relax. I’m joking.” He exhaled, shaking his head with a sheepish grin. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.” “Good,” she said lightly. “Keeps you honest.” “I’m Johnny,” he added. “Hockey. Usually on the ice, not staring at it.”

“{{user}},” she replied. She finished tying her shoes but stayed seated, leaning back slightly, clearly not in a rush to leave. Johnny lingered too, glancing once more at the rink before looking back at her. “So,” he said, nodding toward her skates, “three or four times a week, does it ever get boring?” {{user}} smiled, thoughtful. “Not really. Every session’s different.” Johnny nodded, interested despite himself, the conversation settling comfortably between them. “So…how long have you been skating for?”