When The Ice Melts

The crowd buzzed with excitement, students stomping their boots against the metal bleachers, the sound echoing through the school’s ice rink. Banners waved. Phones flashed. The varsity hockey match was underway, and all eyes were on the boy wearing the red and black jersey with the big golden "C" stitched across the chest. Anthony Reed, captain of the Crescent High Wolves, was a force on the ice fast, brutal, and precise. His face was damp with sweat under his helmet, his amber eyes scanning the rink like a predator locked onto prey. “Let’s go, Anthony!” “Wolves all the way!” “Show them how it’s done, Cap!” Near the edge of the rink, sitting on the furthest top row, nearly swallowed by the shadows of the arena lights, was Tracy Rivers. Wrapped in an oversized denim jacket, a sketchpad nestled in her lap, she sat completely alone. Her pen twitched slightly in her fingers, but the page was still blank. She hadn’t started sketching yet. She couldn’t. Because her eyes were too busy trailing every smooth, flawless glide Anthony made across the rink. She swallowed hard, biting her bottom lip. She knew it was ridiculous. He didn’t know. He couldn’t not until he turned eighteen. But she knew. From the moment her wolf stirred awake after her birthday last year, she knew who her mate was. Anthony Reed, her classmate,her Alpha. The most popular guy in school. And she? She was just… Tracy. An overweight, quiet Omega, known for blending into walls and being the last name called during roll call. They were from different worlds. But sttill, sometimes just sometimes his eyes found hers. It happened again now. As he skated back to the bench during a pause in play, he glanced into the crowd and his gaze locked with hers. Just for a moment. And then he looked away fast almost like him looking at her stung him. Tracy blinked and looked down quickly, her chest tightening. He always did that. Pretended like he hadn’t seen her like he hadn’t noticed her watching. Letting out a slow breath, she reached into her bag, pulling out her pencil and began sketching the lines of his shoulders, the curve of his back as he leaned into his stick. The tension in his legs. Her fingers moved lightly. Art gave her peace even if the subject made her chest ache. She had barely made a line when someone sat beside her. She froze. Shoulders stiff. “Now that,” a smooth voice said beside her, “is a pretty amazing sketch.” Tracy turned her head, startled Matt King sat beside her hood up, one arm in a sling, dark eyes watching her with quiet curiosity. The school’s second-in-command on the hockey team, and Anthony’s best friend and Beta. He was handsome in a different way gentler eyes, easy smile but just as admired. Girls tripped over themselves for either of them. Tracy blinked. “I… I haven’t even started drawing.” Matt smiled faintly. “Maybe not with your hands. But I could see it already forming in your head. She blushed, gripping the edge of her book. “Thanks,” she whispered, looking down. Then without much thought she started packing her things quickly, flustered thinking perhaps Matt would not like her seating so close to him. “Wait.” Matt said while leaning a bit too close. “Are you leaving because of me?” Her fingers hesitated over the zipper of her bag. “No, no, not at all. I just” Matt cut her off gently. “If you’re sure I’m not chasing you away, then stay. I’d rather not enjoy this game alone.” Tracy stared at him he wasn’t teasing her. He wasn’t mocking her. There was a quiet sincerity in his voice, and something even rarer kindness. Heart pounding, she slowly unzipped her bag again and returned to her seat. She tried to focus on the rink, but her senses were spiraling. Matt King, one of the most attractive guys in school was sitting next to her. Close enough to share body warmth. Her mind was spinning too fast to keep drawing. Down on the ice, Anthony’s body moved like a blur of raw energy. But suddenly, his eyes flicked upward toward the stands again. He froze when he saw her. But it wasn’t just her this time it was her sitting with Matt. Matt laughing softly Tracy smiling awkwardly and her cheeks were also slightly red. And at that very moment something in Anthony’s chest snapped tight and unfamiliar. He didn’t know why his heartbeat quickened or why his wolf growled. All he knew was that he hated what he was seeing. And the next thing anyone knew, Anthony skated with uncharacteristic speed reckless, angry and slammed shoulder-first into a player from the opposing team before the puck even reached them. CRASH! The crowd gasped. The whistle blew sharp and shrill. “Penalty on number 8!” Anthony didn’t answer. He just skated towards the end of the ice, jaw clenched, his amber eyes darting back toward the bleachers, and the girl he didn’t understand the urge to look at... again and again. The buzzer was still echoing when Anthony stormed off the ice, helmet clutched tight in one hand, jaw locked so tight it might snap. The other players exchanged glances but gave him space. Because nobody wanted to poke the wolf today. From her seat high in the bleachers, Tracy’s breath hitched. She clutched her sketchpad tighter, her knees trembling. Matt didn’t say anything at first. He just stared at the spot Anthony had disappeared into, brows drawn together. His entire posture shifted from laid-back charm to subtle tension. Something wasn’t right. Then he turned to Tracy. “I’ll be right back,” he said, already stepping away from the seat. “Something’s off with him. That wasn’t just a bad play that looked so personal.” Tracy’s eyes widened. “ maybe he’s just… tired or something?”she whispered quietly. Matt gave her a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe. But let me check on him, alright? Just wait here for me, I would be back in five minutes.” And before she could say anything more, he was already heading toward the exit tunnel, weaving through students with long, confident strides. Tracy sat there frozen for a second. Her heartbeat was deafening. Wait for him? No. She couldn’t. Without thinking twice, Tracy stood up fast, nearly dropping her sketchpad. She shoved her pencils back into her pouch, zipped everything up with trembling hands, and threw the bag over her shoulder. Then she ran. She didn’t look back. Didn’t glance at the rink, the crowd, or the corridor Matt had disappeared into. She just pushed her way through the far exit door and sprinted down the hallway, her boots squeaking against the polished floors, her breath coming out in shallow gasps. She didn’t stop until she was out of the sports building and around the corner behind the art wing, where no one ever went this late. Only then did she lean against the cold wall, sliding down until she was crouched on the floor, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, heart racing like it would burst from her chest. It was happening. It was really happening. Anthony hadn’t even turned eighteen yet, and she already knew the pain of being rejected before the bond could even form.