MELISSA'S POV
The lights in the arena were harsh and unforgiving. Each beam felt like a spotlight exposing every c***k in my confidence.
The match had barely begun, but I could already feel the weight of it tightening around my chest. Every whistle, every skate s***h, every booming cheer from the crowd—it all melted into a dizzying storm inside my head. And through it all, I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
Xavier stood on the other side of the rink, jaw clenched, visor slightly fogged from his breath. He was angry. At the game. At the score. Maybe at himself. Maybe at me.
The first half was slipping away faster than we expected, and the scoreboard was a cruel reminder: America 2, Mexico 0.
Two goals.
Two clean, merciless goals from Team America.
We hadn’t even caught ou
