Archie slides his glasses back on, cracking his neck with the casual disinterest of someone who has seen enough.
"Eww. Y'all get a room if you are so turned on by her average performance."
Mae whips around.
"Fuck off, Archie! Average? That was art and you know it! You are just mad because I got two extra scores more than you."
Archie huffs, crossing his arms with the affront of a man whose mathematics have been questioned.
"I calculated my shots properly. I held back deliberately because if I had given full strength, the puck would have hit Sage, and she is not wearing protective gear. It was a safety-conscious decision, not a skill deficiency."
Sage freezes mid-skate.
"Oh." Her voice goes oddly soft. "Wait. You were not going full throttle because I was in the way? You held back to avoid hurting me?"
She presses her hand against her chest.
"Well, that is kind of romantic."
Archie's face erupts in crimson from his chin to his hairline.
"I am leaving."
He turns to skate toward the exit, but he does not get two strides before half the team rushes onto the ice, blocking his escape route.
"FUCK NO, YOU ARE NOT!"
The guys are already surrounding him, clapping his shoulders, shaking him, begging him to join the squad with the desperation of fans who just discovered a secret weapon.
"Bro, you HAVE to play for us!"
"Coach was right, man, you are insane out there!"
"We will literally carry your textbooks for a semester if you sign up!"
Archie cringes, his face a portrait of horror at the social attention.
"Fuck to the no," he says firmly, trying to push past them. "I am an academic. I watch the sport. I do not play the sport. There is a critical distinction that you are all choosing to ignore."
I leave the boys to their begging and glide onto the ice, landing beside Mae as she pulls Etienne's helmet off her head and shakes her hair free. The dark strands are damp with sweat and fall around her face in messy waves that she pushes behind her ears.
"Damn," she murmurs, looking out across the rink with an expression that sits somewhere between exhilaration and grief. "It has been a while since I have skated like that. I forgot what it felt like. The speed. The cold. The way everything else just disappears when you are moving."
Etienne skates up to her other side, his expression still carrying the dazed quality of a man who has been spiritually rearranged.
"You said you did figure skating," he says, his voice somewhere between accusation and awe.
Mae laughs, bright and unguarded.
"Well, yeah. Figure skating because Omegas do not professionally play hockey. That is the whole point. I was raised on the ice. I just happened to be funneled into the discipline they let us compete in."
Sage skids to a stop beside Mae, patting her shoulders with both hands.
"This bitch was raised by Coach Rose, guys." She announces it to the rink at large like a town crier delivering breaking news. "You should be bowing down to her and getting every damn secret out of her brain because she could lead you lot to a victory you do not deserve."
She pauses, then tilts her head toward Mae.
"How does it feel to STILL be a badass bitch?"
