The whistle blew across the court. sharp and loud enough to make Amara flinch. She pressed the camera closer to her face, pretending she hadn’t been caught zoning out again.
It was supposed to be a normal hockey practice. She was just there to record footage for the school’s athletic page—coach’s orders since she’d missed some days before.
She hasn't brought a sweater and she would have been sure she hated standing here, freezing to death.
Except Leo was on the ice.
And nothing about him was ever simple.
Her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the lens. He skated across the rink like he owned it, fast and effortless, his jersey clinging to his back, hair damp with sweat. Every time he moved, her stomach twisted.
Stop staring, she told herself. You’re here to work.
But she couldn
