The guy is still speechless. Jaw dropped. Arms no longer crossed but hanging limp at his sides. His gray eyes are fixed on Mae with an expression I have never seen on his face before, an expression that looks suspiciously like the moment when certainty fractures and everything you thought you knew collapses.
I cannot help but look at Vanessa next.
She is fuming. Her perfectly manicured hands are balled into fists, her cheeks flushed with a rage that her jasmine perfume cannot mask. The other girls on the figure skating team stand beside her in varying states of shock, their eyes wide, their confident postures deflated.
Except their coach.
The figure skating coach is standing at the edge of the boards with a grin so wide it could split her face in half, her arms crossed over her chest in a posture that radiates pure satisfaction.
Like she has been waiting for this exact moment.
The rookies go full force after that, their playful attitudes replaced by genuine intensity now that they understand this is not the joke they assumed. They press harder, faster, tighter, running their formations with actual effort.
It does not matter.
Mae, Archie, and Sage score again. And again. And again.
Every play is a masterclass in strategic execution. Mae reads the formations before they fully develop, adjusting her position to exploit weaknesses the rookies do not realize they have. Archie anchors the middle, his hockey IQ transforming from theoretical to applied with a fluidity that makes Coach Mercer nod in approval with each passing minute. Sage provides the raw energy, her skating rough but devastatingly effective, her hits carrying a power that belies her compact frame.
And Mae.
Fuck, Mae is dangerously fast on the ice.
She is not just good. She is the kind of good that makes you realize you have been watching amateurs your entire life. Every turn is razor-sharp. Every acceleration is instant. Every stop sends ice spraying in patterns so controlled they look choreographed. She plays hockey the way a figure skaterwould, with grace layered over ferocity, beauty woven through aggression.
By the time the timer goes off and Coach Mercer blows his whistle to call the drill, the scoreboard in my head reads approximately seven to zero in favor of three people who were not even supposed to be on the ice today.
The final puck soars just past Etienne's ear as the buzzer sounds, making him curse and flinch away from the disc that misses his face by inches.
Mae curses too, her voice carrying across the rink.
"Shit! Sorry!"
She is in front of him in a second, skidding to a stop so sharp that the ice flares up from her blades and rains down on the poor goalie like a frozen confetti shower.
"Are you okay?" She grabs the cage of the helmet she is still wearing, pushing it up so she can see him properly. "I cut it too close. I am so sorry. Did it graze you?"
Etienne is gawking at her.
Not at the puck. Not at the near-miss. At her. At the girl in his helmet and Cal's jersey who just dismantled an entire rookie squad and is now hovering over him with genuine concern in those hazel eyes like she did not just perform an athletic miracle.
"Tu es la femme la plus incroyable que j'aie jamais vue," he breathes.
Mae giggles, the sound warm and flustered, and a blush blooms across her cheekbones.
She sticks out her tongue, scratching her head with a sheepish innocence that looks so fucking cute against the backdrop of the chaos she just orchestrated.
"What?" She grins. "You like what you see?"
Etienne's storm-blue eyes darken.
"Je te mettrai sur mon épaule et te baiserai dans le vestiaire si c'est comme ça que tu joues," he growls, low enough that mostpeople cannot hear but loud enough that I catch every single syllable.
Did he just threaten to fuck her in the locker room? In French? During practice?
Sage's whistle cuts across the rink like a siren.
"ETIENNE LAURENT!" She skates over with her stick raised like a gavel. "Did I just hear you swear?! In FRENCH?! You are supposed to be the gentleman of this pack! The classy one! The one who reads poetry and blushes when girls look at him!"
