Awkward Moment Between Us

The next morning felt colder than usual.

I was already on the ice doing laps when Mason walked in. He didn’t look at me. He kept his head down, dropped his bag, and started lacing up his skates like I wasn’t even there.

He was acting weird. Shy almost. Like he wanted to disappear into the boards.

I skated over and stopped in front of him.

“You gonna keep pretending I don’t exist?” I asked.

Mason’s hands froze on his laces for a second. He didn’t look up. “I’m not pretending anything.”

“Really? Because you’re acting like a scared little kid who got caught stealing cookies.”

He finally lifted his head. His cheeks looked a little red, but maybe it was just the cold. “Yesterday was a mistake,” he muttered. “A stupid heat-of-the-moment thing. It didn’t mean shit.”

I crossed my arms. “You think I don’t know that? I was there too, dumbass.”

Mason stood up, still avoiding my eyes. “Then why are you bringing it up?”

“Because you’re being weird as hell. You won’t even look at me. If we’re gonna be stuck training together for six weeks, you can’t keep acting like this.”

He finally met my eyes. There was embarrassment there, mixed with annoyance. “What do you want me to say? ‘Sorry I kissed you while I was bleeding’? It was dumb. It won’t happen again.”

“Good,” I said. “Because I don’t want it to happen again either.”

The words came out harsher than I meant them to.

Mason nodded once, tight. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

We started training in painful silence.

Every time I had to spot him or correct his form, he tensed up like my hands might burn him. Every time our eyes accidentally met, he looked away fast. It was awkward as hell.

At one point he tried a simple turn and wobbled. I reached out to steady him out of habit. The second my hand touched his arm, he jerked back like I’d shocked him.

“I got it,” he said quickly.

I pulled my hand away. “Whatever.”

We kept going, but the air between us felt thick and uncomfortable. I kept catching myself watching him — the way his jaw clenched when he was concentrating, the way his shoulders moved when he tried to balance. Then I’d get mad at myself and skate harder.

Why the hell was I even noticing that stuff?

Mason was still the same annoying, cocky hockey asshole who’d spent years making my life hell. The kiss yesterday didn’t change that. It was just adrenaline and blood and stupidity.

Nothing more.

After almost two hours, we both came off the ice, sweaty and breathing hard.

Mason sat on the bench and started unlacing his skates without saying a word. I sat on the opposite end, as far away as possible.

The silence stretched.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Look,” I said. “Yesterday was weird. It happened. It was a mistake. Let’s just forget it and move on. We still have to train together whether we like it or not.”

Mason nodded slowly, still looking at his skates. “Yeah. Forget it.”

But when he stood up to leave, he hesitated for half a second, like he wanted to say something else.

He didn’t.

He just grabbed his bag and walked out.

I stayed on the bench for a while after he left, staring at the empty ice.

But for some stupid reason, the way he couldn’t even look at me today made my chest feel tight in a way I couldn’t explain.

And I hated that even more.