Page 6 of They All Puck Me

She bites her lip, looking almost embarrassed. "No, never."

"Seriously?" I can't hide my surprise. "Well, there's a first time for everything."

She gives me a skeptical look. "I'm not sure this is a good idea. I'm a liability claim waiting to happen."

"Come on," I say, grinning. "I won't let you fall."

Before she can protest, I take her hand to steady her. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through me, something unexpected and intense. I quickly drop her hand, pretending to adjust my jacket to cover up the reaction.

"Just take it slow," I advise, stepping onto the ice first.

She steps cautiously onto the slippery surface, gripping my arm for balance. Her eyes widen as she takes another step, clearly trying to get the hang of it.

"This is... different," she says with a nervous laugh.

"Different good or different bad?" I tease.

"I haven't decided yet," she replies, her voice tinged with amusement.

Olivia slips slightly, her foot sliding out from under her. Instinct kicks in, and I reach out, my hands gripping her waist. We freeze, faces inches apart. I become acutely aware of how close we are, the scent of her perfume filling my senses—something floral and warm.

"You okay?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Yeah," she breathes, her eyes wide and locked onto mine. "Just... didn’t expect the ice to be so slippery."

"Well, it is ice," I tease, unable to help myself. "What were you expecting? A red carpet?"

She laughs softly, the sound vibrating through me. "Point taken."

We stay like that for a moment longer than necessary. My hands tighten slightly on her waist, and I can feel the warmth of her body through her jacket. Her eyes flicker down to my mouth and back up again. The arena feels suddenly too small, too quiet.

The spell breaks with the roar of the Zamboni engine. I nearly jump out of my skin, not a great look for the team captain. "We should get off the ice," I say, more brusquely than intended.

Olivia nods, eyes wide, gripping my arm tighter as we navigate our way back to solid ground. In my haste to get her off the ice, I nearly trip over my own feet, but manage to catch myself just in time. Graceful as ever, Makar.

"Thanks for the tour," she says once we're back on firm footing. She tucks a stray strand of auburn hair behind her ear and gives me a genuine smile. "This will be great material for the feature."

Oddly enough, I don't want this interaction to end. "How about you come by tomorrow? Watch us practice?" The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "For real? I'd love that."

"Yeah," I say, trying to sound casual. "It'll give you a deeper insight into how we prep for games."

As soon as she nods and agrees, reality crashes down on me like a ton of bricks. Coach Bergman is gonna have my head for this. "Uh, just... keep it low-key, okay? Coach isn’t exactly keen on outsiders during playoff season."

She smiles with a grin that makes my stomach flip. "Your secret's safe with me. See you tomorrow Makar."

As she leaves, I watch her go, a mix of excitement and dread settling in my chest. Damn it, Makar, what did you just do? Breaking my own rule about maintaining professional distance from the press, especially during crucial games—brilliant move.

3

NOAH

The day after our first big win, I walk into the Howl Center for practice. The familiar scent of ice and sweat hits me like a wave, a reminder that this is home. As I lace up my skates, I spot the reporter girl from last night setting up her camera and notepad in the press area.

Her presence makes my stomach do a little flip like It does right before a big game—an odd feeling considering I'm not one to get nervous. I shake it off, focusing on the drills ahead.

Coach Bergman’s whistle slices through the air, echoing off the rink walls. "Alright, ladies," he barks, eyes narrowing as he spots her over in the press area. "We seem to have an audience today, so let’s not embarrass ourselves."

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