ICE BETWEEN US

Chapter 4: Practice and Panic

Zara stood at the edge of the rink, gripping the railing as the roar of skates cutting ice and sticks clashing against pucks assaulted her senses.

The rink smelled of sweat, rubber, and ice—a sharp, metallic tang that made her stomach twist with discomfort. She had never been this close to a hockey team in full swing, let alone a professional-level practice, and the sheer intensity of it was almost overwhelming.

Players shouted and laughed, skates scraping against the ice, sticks cracking pucks like whips. The sound echoed off the walls, bouncing back at her in waves that made her ears ring. She shifted nervously on her feet, noticing how different it was from the quiet libraries and classrooms she was used to. Everything here was loud, chaotic, and completely male-dominated, and she felt her shoulders tense immediately.

She had come today for a reason. To understand his schedule. To figure out when she could meet him for tutoring without getting in the way of practices, games, or team obligations. But standing here, in the middle of this hurricane of movement, she suddenly wished she could disappear.

Then she saw him.

He was already on the ice, moving with a grace and speed that made her jaw drop. Skating past defenders, twisting, turning, shooting—it wasn’t just skill. It was artistry, precision, a kind of controlled violence that made the game look effortless. The arrogant, spoiled boy she had met in the tutoring office was now a force to be reckoned with.

Her eyes followed him as he maneuvered, ignoring the collisions, taking hits and keeping control of the puck like it was an extension of himself. She caught herself holding her breath every time he pushed past someone or sent the puck whistling toward the goal.

For a moment, she forgot about his arrogance, his smug smirk, his irritating confidence. She was witnessing something real. Something impressive.

“Whoa, hey,” a voice called from her side. She jumped slightly, turning to see a player skating toward her, helmet in hand and hair falling messily over his forehead. “You’re new here.”

“Uh, yeah,” Zara said, forcing herself to smile. “I—I’m just observing. For… tutoring scheduling reasons.”

He raised a brow, smirking. “Tutoring him, huh? Good luck. You’ll need it.”

Before she could ask what he meant, three more players had appeared at her side. They introduced themselves quickly, throwing casual glances at her, sizing her up.

The first, loud and grinning, elbowed his teammate. “I’m Jake,” he said, voice teasing. “You’re not melting in his presence yet, so points for that. Most girls pass out or fall over themselves just to be near him.”

Zara crossed her arms. “I’m not most girls,” she said firmly. She didn’t want to be treated like some typical fan swooning over the campus’s golden boy.

Jake laughed, clearly entertained. “Fair enough. I like your style.”

The second player, serious-looking with sharp eyes, nodded politely. “I’m the captain, Eric. Keep an eye on her,” he said to Jake, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “And don’t scare her off. She’s here for work, not to be another fan.”

The third, quiet and observant, didn’t speak at first. His eyes tracked her carefully, as if cataloging every reaction, every flicker of expression. Finally, he said in a low, measured tone, “I’m Lucas. Don’t worry, she seems capable.”

The last one was chaotic and funny, bouncing slightly in place. “I’m Theo,” he said, grinning widely. “And I officially declare you the bravest person in this building. Walking in here like this without fainting? Respect.”

Zara thugged at her gown. “I just… I need to know his schedule. That’s all.”

They exchanged knowing looks but didn’t push. Something about her demeanor—confident, firm, unwilling to fawn—marked her as different. None of them were used to women who didn’t immediately swoon or giggle around him, and it seemed to earn her quiet respect.

Turning back to the rink, she tried to focus on the game again. The boys skated past, jostling, shouting, and colliding with each other. The noise was deafening, the physicality intimidating. Every hit made her flinch, her fingers tightening around the railing.

The game was violent in a way she hadn’t expected—not cruel, but rough, with players pushing each other to the edge and testing limits constantly.

And then she saw him again.

He moved like he was in his element, commanding attention without asking for it. He made split-second decisions, passed the puck with perfect timing, blocked shots, and danced around defenders with a fluidity that left her awestruck. His eyes were sharp, calculating, and despite the arrogance she had seen, there was a kind of brilliance on the ice that she had never imagined.

For the first time, she realized that maybe there was more to him than she had assumed. Yes, he was arrogant and spoiled off the ice, but here? Here, he was something else entirely—a force of nature, precise, focused, and unstoppable. She felt a strange pang of admiration mixed with her lingering irritation.

But just as she allowed herself to think that maybe he had depth beyond the arrogance, disaster struck.

A girl, obviously a fan, appeared seemingly out of nowhere, rushing toward him with wide eyes and a desperate smile. “Oh my God, you’re amazing! Can I get a picture?” she squealed, practically throwing herself at him.

Zara’s stomach sank. Her admiration turned to cold anger, her chest tightening as she watched him bend slightly, smiling indulgently, chatting casually with the girl, clearly enjoying the attention.

Her fingers dug into the railing. This—this was the real him. Charming, entitled, and infuriatingly self-absorbed. All the arrogance, all the privilege she had imagined, and now she saw it in full force.

The fan girl squealed again, hanging on his arm. He laughed, flashing that same effortless grin that had made Zara’s stomach twist before. She forced herself to look away, telling herself that she couldn’t let admiration blind her. He was exactly who she thought he was: infuriating, spoiled, and frustratingly unattainable.

The team noticed her stiffening posture, the sudden chill in her expression. Theo gave a small, sympathetic grin. “Don’t worry, she’s exactly what she seems. Not impressed. Points for that too,” he whispered to Jake, who chuckled softly.

She straightened, taking a deep breath, forcing herself to remain composed. She couldn’t let him—or anyone—see her frustration or awe. She was here for work. For money. And for the first time, she realized she had to keep her distance emotionally, at least until she figured out how to navigate this chaos without losing herself.

Practice ended with the usual chaos: shouting, laughter, and players collapsing against each other in exhaustion.

Zara lingered near the rink exit, still gripping the railing, feeling the buzzing adrenaline in her veins. She watched him glide off the ice, muscles moving fluidly, sweat glinting under the bright lights. Even off the ice, he carried that same aura of confidence and control.

She felt a complicated mix of things: irritation, awe, and a begrudging acknowledgment that he was far more talented and driven than she had imagined. But she reminded herself firmly—this was her first lesson in control. She was here for work, not for admiration.

As the boys changed and filtered out of the rink, Jake waved at her. “See you around, tutor,” he said, grinning. “She’s tough, though. Not many girls survive even a glance out here without melting.”

Zara forced a polite smile, refusing to be baited. “I survive just fine.”

Theo nodded enthusiastically. “Good answer. You might just last longer than expected.”

She glanced back at him one last time before leaving, watching him laugh with his teammates, the fan girl lingering and still fawning. The sight made her chest tighten. She reminded herself again, coldly this time: this was exactly who he was. Charming, privileged, frustratingly arrogant. And she needed to remember that, no matter how impressive he looked on the ice.

Outside, she breathed deeply, letting the icy air clear her head. She had survived her first real glimpse into his world, and she had learned two things:

One, he was more than just a spoiled, arrogant hockey star—he was talented, precise, and undeniably captivating in a way that was infuriating.

Two, he was still exactly the person she had thought him to be—and she needed to keep her distance if she wanted to get paid and stay sane.

She squared her shoulders, determined. She could do this. She had to. She was here for work, not for anyone’s charm, not even his.

And with that, Zara stepped away from the rink, already planning how she would tackle the next lesson.