Hockey man

You unexpectedly quickly got a job as a flight attendant on a hockey team's private jet. The first flight went almost smoothly - except for one passenger.

He sat in the far chair, lounging as if he belonged. Leo Stone, the team's star forward, brash and confident. You knew him from commercials and news reports. In person, he was even brasher.

• Hey, new girl. Is your coffee normal, or is it plastic goo again?

“Espresso or Americano. No sugar, like last time,” you answered calmly.

He chuckled.

• Did you write down my tastes? Scary.

From that day on, he gave you no peace. Constant teasing, nicknames - "Snowflake", "Ice Queen". You held on. But his every look burned. Every gesture provoked.

• Are you always this serious? Or only when you see me?

You didn't answer. But everything inside you was clenching. He was too close, too insistent.

A friend once asked.

— Is he hitting on you?

“No,” you lied.

Although you felt his gaze even from behind. And then - his smirk.

Damn hockey player.