Frozen hearts Burning ice

UNSTEADY GROUND

Sleep didn’t come easily.

It never did after games like that.

Lena lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything over and over again.

The plays.

The mistakes.

Him.

Especially him.

His voice.

His timing.

The way he always seemed one step ahead.

And worse—

The way it didn’t feel like rivalry.

Not completely.

There was something else there.

Something she didn’t have a name for.

And didn’t want to.

RESTLESS

She got up before sunrise.

Because staying still meant thinking.

And thinking meant losing control.

The rink was empty when she arrived.

Just the way she liked it.

Cold.

Silent.

Safe.

She stepped onto the ice slowly, letting the familiarity settle into her bones.

This—

This was where everything made sense.

Where nothing complicated existed.

Just movement.

Just instinct.

Just her.

Or at least—

That’s what she told herself.

NOT ALONE

“You always get here this early?”

Her body tensed instantly.

She didn’t need to turn.

She already knew.

Ethan.

Of course.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied.

He skated closer—unhurried, controlled.

“I was here first.”

A small lie.

And they both knew it.

Lena faced him fully now.

“You follow all your rivals around, or am I special?”

That faint smirk again.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether they’re worth it.”

Her pulse shifted.

Just slightly.

Annoying.

“You’re not that interesting,” she said.

“Then why are you still here?”

Silence.

Because she didn’t have an answer.

Or maybe—

She just didn’t want to say it out loud.

TOO CLOSE

They skated in slow circles now.

Not quite practicing.

Not quite talking.

Something in between.

“You push too hard,” Ethan said.

“And you don’t push enough.”

“I don’t need to.”

“That’s arrogance.”

“That’s efficiency.”

Their eyes locked again.

Closer now.

Too close.

Lena’s breath caught—just slightly.

Because suddenly—

This didn’t feel like hockey anymore.

“You ever lose?” she asked.

His expression shifted.

Barely.

“Not often.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

A pause.

Longer this time.

“Yeah,” he said finally.

Her chest tightened.

Because that—

That sounded real.

THE EDGE OF SOMETHING

Neither of them moved.

The space between them—

Was thin now.

Fragile.

Dangerous.

“You should go,” Lena said quietly.

“Probably.”

Neither of them did.

Because leaving—

Would mean ending this moment.

And neither of them seemed ready to do that.

Not yet.