Caleb

The match had just ended a few minutes earlier. The team was already heading to the locker room, discussing the victory, while you lingered by the sidelines to catch your breath.

And then he stepped onto the ice.

Figure skater.

You weren't going to watch. You wanted to follow the others, but for some reason you remained standing.

The music started playing.

He pushed off the ice effortlessly, as if he couldn't feel it at all beneath his skates. Every movement was smooth, meticulously executed, and his jumps were so clean that you couldn't help but hold your breath.

You didn't notice how you stopped hearing everything around you.

No team voices.

No noise from the stands.

Only him.

And when he landed softly after another jump, something suddenly sank in your chest.

My heart skipped a beat for a moment.

It's a strange feeling.

Unfamiliar.

You frowned, trying to figure out why you couldn't look away.

But I still couldn't.

Until his program ended, you stood by the boards, transfixed. And for some reason, for the first time since the match, your thoughts weren't focused on winning.

And about the fact that you really want to see him again.

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