Ashley's pov
I wasn't supposed to be sitting on the bleachers today with a bandaged ankle and a warm Coke in hand. I was supposed to be out there in full cheer uniform, throwing glitter and kicking high, screaming until my throat gave out. But no—thank you, slippery hallway tiles and my overly ambitious toe jump in rehearsal. Now I was benched, literally and emotionally.
The only silver lining was the person sitting next to me, sipping from his Coke and stealing glances when he thought I wouldn't notice.
"Want one?" Avinav asked, holding up another can. It was cold, condensation sliding down the aluminum. I blinked.
"You got two?"
He shrugged. "I figured you'd throw a fit if I didn't offer you one."
I snatched it. "You're right."
He laughed. "Thought so."
The Winter Inter-Sport Championship was in full swing. The gym was packed—parents, students, alumni, even that one overly competitive teacher from the history department who always bet on the hockey team. The whole school was buzzing. There was glitter in the air. Literal glitter. Someone from dance had thrown confetti.
The lights dimmed slightly, signaling the start of the figure skating event. I leaned forward, despite myself.
And there she was.
Val Deluca.
She looked like a snowstorm and a firework had a baby.
Her costume shimmered with icy tones—silvery blues and sharp whites—each gem catching the light as she stepped onto the ice like she owned it. Her expression? Cold. Controlled. Dangerous.
"She's scary," I whispered.
Avinav nodded slowly. "And kind of majestic."
The music started—something orchestral and dramatic. Classic Val. She glided like liquid across the ice, fast and elegant, arms slicing through the air like paintbrush strokes. The crowd was quiet, hypnotized. Even I forgot about my stupid ankle.
Then she leapt.
A triple lutz.
I actually held my breath.
And she landed it. Perfectly. No stumble, no hesitation. Just clean, devastating grace.
"She's not even human," I muttered.
Avinav leaned closer. "Theo's watching."
I followed his gaze. Yep. There he was, arms folded, jaw tight, helmet forgotten at his feet. He wasn't blinking.
"He looks like he's about to storm the rink and propose," I said.
Avinav chuckled. "He better not. He still owes me ten bucks."
Val finished with a final spin that would've made a ballerina sob, her blades slicing the ice like glass. The music ended. The crowd exploded.
Val didn't smile, not really. But her eyes—her eyes found Theo's for a second, and something unspoken passed between them.
"She's good," Avinav said.
"She's terrifying," I replied.
---
The rink cleared and shifted for the hockey match. Ice guards came in, reshaping the space with goals and boundaries. It was chaotic and sharp, like someone swapped ballet for a bar fight.
And then the players stormed in.
Or more accurately—he stormed in.
Theo Dodge.
Helmet on. Stick in hand. Every muscle under that black uniform looked like it was carved for destruction. And his face—ugh. Blondish dark hair slightly damp, pale skin glowing under the lights, eyes locked in.
Those greenish-brown eyes. I swear they had a whole mood of their own. And that cocky smirk? Someone should arrest him.
The whistle blew.
Theo moved like a knife.
He darted between players like they were obstacles in his way. The puck was practically glued to his stick. When he passed, it was precise. When he collided, it was brutal.
He was fast. Aggressive. Flawless.
"Did he drink rocket fuel for breakfast?" I whispered.
Avinav was already recording. "He's possessed. That's not normal."
Theo circled, built momentum, and then—bam—he scored. The puck sailed in like it had a death wish, and the crowd roared.
"He moves like someone who kissed trouble last night and liked it," I murmured.
Avinav raised a brow. "What?"
"Nothing."
But we both knew what I meant.
Val had distracted him. Focused him. Fueled him. Whatever she did last night—because I knew something happened—he brought that energy to the rink today.
---
After the goal, Theo skated near Val—who was sitting at the edge now, wrapping up her skates, eyes glued to the ice.
He didn't say anything.
Just looked at her.
And she looked back.
And smiled.
And I was pretty sure the world just shifted.
---
Avinav handed me another Coke.
"Trying to get me drunk on sugar?" I teased.
"Trying to keep you from biting my head off."
I rolled my eyes and took a sip. "I don't bite."
"You threatened to jab me with your crutch last week."
"Fair."
He grinned. "Besides, you get this cute little crease between your eyebrows when you're stressed."
I blinked.
Blushed.
Turned away.
"I do not."
"You do. It's like your face's version of an exclamation mark."
I stared at the rink.
My face was definitely microwaved.
---
The final whistle blew. The scoreboard flashed. Both teams had done their best. It was so close—too close. You could cut the tension with Theo's stick.
Everyone held their breath.
The announcer walked out, mic in hand.
> "And the winners of this year's Winter Inter-Sport Championship…
…by half a point…"
I grabbed Avinav's hand without even realizing it.
> "Team Garnet!"
The gym erupted.
Students screamed. Confetti launched from somewhere. Val was surrounded by her teammates, spinning in a hug. Theo got tackled by half his squad. It was chaos, celebration, heat, and glitter.
I looked across the rink.
Val and Theo were just standing there now, a few feet apart.
Smiling.
He said something. She laughed.
And for a second, the whole stadium didn't matter.
Just them.
Enemies. Lovers. Rivals. Idiots. Whatever they were.
They had just stolen the whole damn show.