“I’m evolving,” I muttered, brushing the blade of my skate with my towel to mask the heat crawling up the back of my neck.
The chirping continued around me, but I let it fade into the background. My thoughts were still with Mina. The way she looked at me when I hit the boards. The way her eyes tracked my every move. It was distracting—maybe even dangerous—but I couldn’t bring myself to care. She made the noise fade. Made the ice feel different. And I didn’t know how to handle that, not yet.
But what I did know, as I unwrapped the tape from my wrist and caught another glimpse of her through the glass doors down the hallway?
She wasn’t just a temporary distraction.
She was starting to feel like home.
I pushed through the locker room door, the music and shouting fading behind me like background noise to a world I was no longer part of. The hallway was dim and quiet, a thin layer of condensation clinging to the walls from the cold outside. But none of it mattered. I only had one focus.
And there she was.
Mina stood just outside the tunnel, tucked into my hoodie, hair a little windblown, her arms wrapped around herself like she didn’t know what to do with them. Her eyes scanned the space—anxious, hopeful, unsure—and when they landed on me, her whole face lit up.
Something in my chest pulled tight.
“Hey,” I said, cutting through the distance like it was nothing. A couple staff members tried to catch my attention—congrats, handshakes, the usual post-game noise—but I didn’t stop. I barely acknowledged them.
She mattered more.
I reached for her hand, curling my fingers around hers, and the second our skin touched, everything else fell away. She was warm and real and looking at me like maybe—just maybe—she saw something good in all of this. I didn’t wait for small talk. I just guided her toward the exit and straight to the car.
Once we were inside, the world quieted. The soft rumble of the engine, the way she curled into the seat, still buzzing from the game—it all hit me harder than any body check on the ice.
“So?” I asked, pretending I wasn’t holding my breath. “What’d you think?”
She practically lit up the cabin. “Are you kidding me? That was insane! You were insane!” Her hands moved animatedly as she talked, eyes bright. “When you leveled that guy in the second period, I thought the entire row behind me was gonna lose it!”
A laugh rumbled in my chest—quiet, but real. “That so?”
“You’re a menace out there, Nik. In the best way.” Her voice softened at the end, eyes catching mine. “I couldn’t stop watching you.”
That last sentence landed somewhere deep. Unexpected. Dangerous.
I looked at her for a beat longer, then turned my attention to the road ahead. “Then you better get used to it,” I said, voice low, almost a promise. “Because you’re coming to every game now.”
I pulled into the driveway, the engine fading into silence while the high of the game still buzzed through my bloodstream. But it wasn’t the win or the goal I kept replaying—it was her. Mina, beside me in the passenger seat, curled up in my hoodie like she’d been born to wear it.
She stepped out first; the sleeves swallowing her hands as she moved up the walk with that familiar bounce in her step. She looked back once, like she wasn’t sure if I’d follow. I did—of course I did. I always would.
The house felt different now. Lived-in. Warmer. Not because anything had changed… except her. Except me.
She dropped her bag inside the door and turned to face me. That smile—half sweet, half wicked—tugged at something in my chest. Then I saw it. The faint, purpling mark at the base of her neck. My mark. A wave of possessiveness rose before I could stop it, something low and heated twisting in my gut.
I stepped in close, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You wore my hoodie.”
She grinned, tugging on the hem of my hoodie. “Maybe I just like how cozy it is.”
“Cozy?” I echoed, a dry laugh slipping out. She had no idea what she did to me in that hoodie. Or maybe she did—and that was the problem.
She leaned against the wall like she had all the power, arching an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”
The word hit harder than it should have. I narrowed my eyes. “You think you can just walk around with that”—I nodded to the hickey—“and not expect anyone to notice?”
Her smile flickered, then returned sharper. “Maybe I like how it feels.”
My jaw tensed. “Or maybe you like pushing buttons.”
