LANDON’S POV
I sit in the stands, arms crossed, not really expecting much. This is just another obligation—another performance to keep up the charade of my so-called life. But then Clarissa steps onto the ice, and everything changes.
She moves like she was born for this. she glides effortlessly across the rink with a grace that catches me off guard. She weaves past her teammates. She holds her hockey stick effortlessly and she handles the puck like it’s a part of her.
She’s fast and calculated.
Fuck.
I hate that I notice.
I hate that I admire how effortlessly she moves, how the strands of her hair peek from beneath her helmet, how the intensity in her eyes sharpens every time she nears the goal. She looks… beautiful. And that infuriates me.
I shouldn’t be thinking like this. I hat
