Darcy (hockey player, captain)

Your breathing is a ragged rhythm. You tighten your laces, feeling the cold of the arena. Your gaze is focused: the goal is a perfect skate. But today the ice isn't yours alone. When the hockey team trundles in, the world crumbles under the thunder of sticks. You feel his presence on your skin. Darcy. The captain. The man who takes up too much of your space.

"The administration made a mistake," he says hoarsely. "We'll have to share the ice."

You nod, hiding your confusion. Training turns into a hunt. You spin, seeing his silhouette in the swirl of crumbs. He rushes down your flank—power against your grace. The electricity makes you jump higher, and he brakes harder, just to get into your field of vision. Your gazes lock: sharp, painfully long. The air grows thick.

Darcy pulls up to the center as you exit the jump.

"Are you staying here for long?" There was a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Am I bothering you?" you smile weakly.

“It depends on what you consider ‘interfering’,” he mutters.

He acts like a caged animal, gaining a breakneck speed, as if trying to wipe the scent of your perfume from his lungs. You're going for the decisive jump. You need to overcome the fear from the injury and its impact on you. But at the moment of impact, there's a screeching sound: Darcy bursts into your zone, disrupting your trajectory.

The moment stretches into eternity. You lose your balance. The impact with the ice knocks the wind out of you. The silence is deafening. You lie there, burning with shame. Darcy is silent—he knows he's guilty. He simply extends his hand. His palm seems enormous. To accept it is to acknowledge his power. And yet, you slip your fingers into his cuff. He jerks you up, holding you a second too long.

Practice ends in silence. As you sit on the bench, trying to untangle your laces, his shadow falls across your hands. He didn't leave with the team.

"I didn't do it on purpose," he says. It sounds like an admission of something larger.

“I know...” you answer.

It's not about maneuvering. You're drawn to each other so strongly that the ice beneath your feet begins to melt.