"Go for it, Rose. Take your time. Show them how it is supposed to look."
I turn to Archie, who is standing beside me with his sports goggles strapped tight, his ginger hair already disheveled from the cold air whipping across the rink.
"When was the last time you were on the ice?" I ask.
He frowns, his brow furrowing as he tries to calculate the answer.
"A hot minute," he says finally, which tells me exactly nothing and everything at once.
I sigh.
"Same."
He huffs, adjusting his goggles with one gloved hand.
"It does not matter. As long as you can see the technicalities of the play, the muscle memory will follow. We are not trying to outperform them. We are trying to outthink them."
I smirk at that.
"If you say so. But if you get hit by the puck, do not say it is my fault for your cracked glasses."
Sage skates up to us, her movements rough but confident, her short hair spiked in every direction from the wind.
"Are you not going to take those off, Arch?" She gestures at his goggles with her stick. "You do not even need them. Your vision is fine without them and you know it."
"Shut up, Sage."
I blink, looking between the two of them.
"Wait. You two know each other?"
The slight blush that creeps along Archie's cheekbones is subtle but unmistakable. His jaw tightens, his eyesdart sideways, and his entire posture shifts into the rigid defensiveness of someone who has been caught in a truth they were not ready to share.
Sage, naturally, notices none of this. Or pretends not to. She laughs, bright and unbothered, and skids behind him, reaching up on her toes to ruffle his hair. The height difference makes the gesture almost comical. Sage is compact and athletic, built like a firecracker. Archie, I realize now, is actually tall. Really tall. Similar height to Etienne, which I had not noticed until this moment because every time I have seen him, he has been sitting behind a fortress of textbooks.
I take in his full image for the first time.
Ginger hair that falls across his forehead in an unruly mess. A constellation of freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. Sharp jaw, long limbs, and a slim build that carries better than I expected. His posture is impeccable, straight-backed and balanced in a way that speaks to years of physical awareness, and I find myself wondering why he is not on the team. He clearly knows the sport. He has the height, the hockey IQ, the coaching background.
But then again, I know exactly why. Being the coach's kid comes with a specific kind of pressure that makes the sport feel less like a passion and more like an obligation. Maybe Archie loves hockey the way I love skating. From the sidelines. Where it is safer.
Archie huffs, ducking away from Sage's reach.
"I need them for observation, so stop bullying me."
I laugh.
"Oh, she is not bullying you. That is Jace's job. Making your life annoying is his whole brand." I glance at Sage. "Speaking of, where is Jace? I have not seen him all day."
Sage waves a dismissive hand.
"He is not here because he is busy sorting our dorm situation."
"What is happening with your dorm?"
"Oh, nothing major." She says it with the casualness of someone reporting the weather. "Just our entire place flooded."
"WHAT?"
