Chapter 67

KAIA

The buzz of the crowd hit me the second Amy and I stepped into the arena.

Cold air curled around my legs, biting through my jeans, and the sharp scent of ice and rubber filled my nose. The echo of blades scraping the rink and the low murmur of the crowd layered over the occasional sharp whistle from the referees on the ice.

It was loud—but in an oddly comforting way.

We stepped farther in, the arena lights casting a soft glow over the rink below as the players skated across the ice in fluid motion. Amy was beside me, sipping her iced coffee like we weren't literally in an ice box, and I was doing my best to keep my head low.

Because yeah... I wore it.

Adrien's jersey. Blue-and-white with his number stretched across my back and his name in bold across my shoulders like a giant flashing sign: "TAKEN."

I tugged at the hem nervously as we made our way down toward the seats right near the glass.

"I feel like I'm walking around with a neon target on my back," I muttered under my breath.

Amy glanced over and gave me a smirk.

"You kind of are. But also, you look hot. So... win-win."

I rolled my eyes.

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one wearing the jersey of the most popular hockey player on campus."

"I should be," she said with a wink, "but Nate's still working up the courage to even say the word girlfriend out loud."

We slid into our seats right up front near the rink. The ice gleamed like glass under the lights, and I found myself leaning forward without even realizing it.

That's when I spotted him.

Adrien.

He was near the center of the rink with the rest of the team, gliding across the ice effortlessly as they did their warmups.

I watched as he skated backward, did this quick side step, then pushed off hard with one leg before spinning around to shoot a puck into the net with almost zero effort.

His hair stuck slightly to his forehead under his helmet, and he wore that focused, no-nonsense expression I'd seen him use only when he was locked in.

He was in his element. This was his world.

Amy leaned closer to me, lowering her voice.

"Okay, but tell me why they're all out there doing leg stretches like they're warming up for bed instead of a game?"

I blinked, then followed her gaze—and yep. Half the team was doing these deep lunges, bending low and slow, some even resting their elbows on their knees like it was some kind of ice yoga session.

I snorted. "Please don't sexualize the hockey team."

"Oh come on," Amy grinned. "You know Adrien's out there doing that stretch on purpose. I mean, tell me that isn't the same position he—"

"Amy!" I hissed, smacking her arm.

We burst out laughing, heads tipping toward each other, our voices getting swallowed up by the crowd noise.

Then the lights dimmed a little, and the announcer's voice boomed through the arena.

The game was about to start.

As the players lined up, Amy and I clapped, cheering with the rest of the crowd. My heart started to race—not from nerves, but from adrenaline.

The first goal happened fast.

One sharp pass from his teammate—then Adrien caught it, pivoted, and slammed the puck straight into the back of the net with a clean, brutal hit.

The crowd went wild.

I found myself jumping to my feet with everyone else, screaming louder than I thought I would, hands cupped around my mouth.

"Let's go, number 14!"

Adrien didn't look my way at first, too focused on bumping gloves with his teammates and skating back to his side of the rink—but right before the next play started, his eyes found mine through the glass.

He smirked.

And it wasn't just any smirk.

It was the one that made my stomach flip. The one that told me he saw me.

Amy elbowed me with a grin.

"Yup. That man's got it bad."

I tried to act unbothered but I knew I was glowing. And even though my cheeks were burning and I probably looked ridiculous wearing his jersey, in that moment—I didn't care.

For the first time in days, I actually felt something again.

The game kept going, and the intensity grew with every second. There were crashes against the glass, shouts from the players, near misses and sharp turns, and my eyes never left Adrien.

He was relentless.

Every time the opposing team got the puck, he was right there—blocking, deflecting, chasing them down like a machine. And every time he had it, the whole rink seemed to hold its breath. His control, the way he read the game, it was... electric.

I could barely sit still.

Amy and I were screaming and cheering like maniacs, high-fiving, standing every time Adrien made a shot or slammed into someone. I wasn't just proud anymore—I was freaking into this.

The second period rolled in, and Adrien's team was leading by one.

It was tense. The crowd had gone from wild cheers to tight murmurs and gasps. Even Amy had stopped making her ridiculous sex jokes and was gripping the edge of her seat like her life depended on it.

And then it happened.

Adrien intercepted a pass mid-ice, cut through two defenders, and skated straight toward the goal like he had fire under his skates. He dodged the last guy, swung hard—and scored.

The arena exploded.

I screamed so loud I nearly lost my voice, my hands flying to the glass as Adrien threw his arms up, surrounded by his team. And then, like it was second nature, he turned back to me, raising his stick in the air and tapping it against his helmet.

I didn't need to be told—that was for me.

And damn it, I smiled so hard my cheeks ached.

Amy leaned over, laughing.

"Okay. You win. That was hot."

I laughed too, heart thudding in my chest, warm and happy and still humming with adrenaline. Watching him play like that... I understood now. Why he loved it. Why he poured himself into it. Why he wanted me there.

Because this wasn't just a game.

It was him giving me a piece of his world.

And I was finally starting to feel like maybe I belonged in it.

OoO

Halftime came faster than I expected.

The moment the buzzer echoed through the rink, Amy shot up beside me, brushing popcorn off her lap.

"Snack run?"

I nodded, needing a break—needing something to cool me down after how Adrien made the ice rink feel like the hottest place on earth.

We walked out into the concession hallway, the low hum of conversations and clattering vending machines surrounding us. The air was colder out here, and for a moment, I just let it wash over me, giving my flushed face a second to breathe.

After loading up on sodas and a suspicious amount of nachos and fries, we started heading back toward our seats.

And that's when I saw them.

A familiar group near the back row.

My steps slowed immediately, and my stomach twisted. The voices around me blurred out. My eyes scanned the group, and then—he stood.

Callum.

Rising from his seat like he'd been waiting.

Our eyes locked, and I swear everything stopped for a second.

But he didn't look shocked.

He just... stared at me. As if he knew I'd be there. As if this confrontation had been building, waiting to snap loose.

Then Ian, standing just a few feet in front of him, scoffed under his breath—but loud enough for all of us to hear.

"Damn. She really moved on fast."

The words hit like ice water.

Amy subtly reached for my wrist, whispering, "Let's just go." She tugged gently, trying to guide me past them.

But I couldn't move. My feet were glued to the floor, frozen by the weight of Callum's stare.

He stepped forward.

Slow and deliberate.

His eyes dropped down to my chest—to Adrien's jersey—and I felt his gaze linger there before he reached out and grabbed the hem. Not rough, but deliberate.

He stared at it like it physically hurt him.

Then he looked up at me, jaw tight.

"Figures."

I caught the scent of alcohol on his breath—strong, bitter, sharp.

"Callum," I whispered, already feeling the storm coming.

"Shut up," he snapped, voice low but venomous. "Don't even try lying your way out of this one."

"I—" I tried, but he cut me off.

"You couldn't wait for at least a week?" He shook his head, eyes dark. "Are you fucking serious? You just can't wait to start showing off in his damn jersey to show that you're together now, huh?"

I flinched. "No, it's not like that. I never meant—"

Amy stepped in sharply.

"She doesn't owe you anything. You're not entitled to her just because you thought you had a shot."

Callum's eyes snapped to her. "Stay out of this."

Ian joined in, voice rising.

"Yeah, maybe you should back the fuck off."

Amy didn't budge.

"Or what? You're gonna throw another tantrum? Please."

Her voice was sharp—too sharp. Tension thickened like smoke. People nearby had already started turning their heads, watching us with wide eyes and held breath.

I suddenly felt very, very small.

The announcer's voice echoed faintly from the speakers: "Second period is about to begin—please return to your seats."

I gripped Amy's arm.

"Let's just go. Please."

But Callum stepped in front of me, blocking the way. His eyes flared.

"You don't get to walk away again."

Amy shoved her way between us.

"She doesn't owe you anything! So fuck off!"

Callum's expression twisted.

"What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me," Amy snapped. "You're pissed because she chose someone else? Boo-fucking-hoo, get over it."

Ian and another guy stepped in then, trying to pull Callum back.

"Bro, chill. Let it go."

"I'm fine!" he shouted.

But it happened too fast.

Callum jerked his arm away, hard—his elbow swinging wildly back—

And smashing right into my face.

The force knocked me off my feet before I could even register what happened. There was a sharp, blinding pain, a metallic taste in my mouth, and the world spun violently around me.

I heard Amy scream my name.

Then everything went black.