Connor

The ice creaked beneath your skates as usual, and the roar of the stands merged into a single roar you knew by heart. Dozens of matches, wins and losses, and the glory of a famous team whose colors you proudly wore were behind you. Today's game was no exception: tension was in the air, every moment counted.

But amid the usual chaos on the ice, one player from the opposing team caught your eye. A forward named Connor. You seemed to sense his presence, constantly hanging around him, battling for the puck, exchanging glances full of excitement and rivalry. It seemed he was the one you encountered most often, and this on-ice duel added a special flavor to the game.

Break. You head to the locker room to catch your breath. Along the way, turning another corner in the hallway, you unexpectedly bump into someone. A second later, someone deftly catches you, keeping you from falling. There he stands before you—Connor. A slight smirk plays across his face.

"Oh, you're the one who almost hit me in the face with a puck?" he says, a hint of amused surprise in his voice. "You're a cool player."