My hockey heartthrob

2. Unexpected assignment.

Mia stared at the email on her laptop, frozen in disbelief.

“You’ve been assigned to cover the championship run… Alex Hunter.”

Her stomach twisted. Five years. Five years since she’d last seen him. Five years since Alex—the boy she had loved, the man who had been her entire world—had broken her heart. It wasn’t just the end; it was the way he had left, chasing a dream so big she didn’t know how to compete with it.

She closed the laptop and pressed her palms to her face, trying to steady her breathing. This was her career. Her professionalism. Her opportunity. She could do this. She had to.

The arena was alive when she arrived, a cacophony of fans, flashing lights, and booming music that made her chest pound almost as fast as her heart. Cameras swiveled in every direction. Microphones jutted toward players, and reporters hustled to get the perfect angle. Yet, all she could see was him.

Alex Hunter. Her Alex.

He moved with the kind of confidence that only fame and talent could forge—long strides across the ice, every muscle controlled, every movement precise. The green of his eyes was as piercing as ever, scanning the crowd, the cameras… and, when he finally caught sight of her, locking with hers.

“Ms. Carter,” the press coordinator called, tugging her back to the present. “Alex knows you’re assigned. Brace yourself.”

She swallowed, straightened her shoulders, and followed. Of course he knew. Of course he always knew. He had that way of knowing things about her, even from five years away.

Alex approached, gliding effortlessly toward her. His expression was carefully neutral, professional, calm—but the tension in his posture betrayed him. She remembered that tension from college, remembered the electricity it had sparked, the way it had drawn her in even when she tried to resist.

“Mia,” he said, his voice smooth, controlled.

“Alex,” she replied, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. Her throat felt dry, her heart hammering.

“You’re covering me,” he said, stating the obvious, but she felt it more than she heard it. There was something beneath the words, a flicker of emotion he tried to hide.

“Yes. That’s the assignment,” she said, keeping her voice steady, though her pulse betrayed her.

He gave a slight nod, mask of professionalism firmly in place. And yet… the glance he shot her lingered longer than necessary, charged with a history she hadn’t dared revisit.

Practice began. Cameras clicked and reporters scribbled, but Mia’s attention was fixed on Alex. Every turn, every shift of his weight, every flex of his muscles reminded her of the boy she’d loved. She jotted notes, asked questions, all while pretending to focus on the story.

During a short water break, Alex moved past her, just close enough that their shoulders brushed. A jolt of electricity ran through her, sharp and undeniable. Her pulse spiked, her stomach fluttered. Five years had passed, but the chemistry between them hadn’t dulled—it had only grown stronger, simmering beneath the surface.

“You’ve changed,” he murmured, his voice low, warm, almost private in the noisy arena.

“And you haven’t,” she whispered, daring him to meet her gaze.

He smirked, dangerous and knowing. “Not exactly a compliment.”

“Maybe it is,” she countered, heart hammering, breath uneven. "Let's keep this professional. At the door, he paused. "We'll see how long you can keep pretending this is just a story.

As the session ended, she packed up her notes, trying to steady herself. The chaos of the arena faded into the background. The shouting fans, the flashing cameras—they didn’t matter. The story wasn’t about the championship. It was about him. Alex. And after five long years, Mia realized something startling and terrifying. She still wanted him.

Her pulse still raced at the sight of his smirk. Her thoughts still tangled in memories of him. And no amount of professionalism could erase the truth: five years apart hadn’t cooled the fire between them. If anything, it had only burned brighter, waiting for the moment they would meet again.