CHAPTER FOUR: UNAVOIDABLE

Sienna's POV

The lobby of the Manhattan Grand Hotel was suffocatingly warm compared to the freezing New York streets outside. I dragged my small rolling suitcase past the revolving glass doors, my legs feeling heavy from the flight and the sheer emotional shock I had just experienced at the arena. I collapsed into a plush, high-backed velvet armchair near the back corner, desperate to fade into the background.

The warmth of the lobby immediately wrapped around me, but I barely noticed it. My body was exhausted from travelling, yet my mind refused to settle. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the ice rink again.

The players.

The crowd.

My brother is celebrating with his teammates.

And then Luca.

I opened my eyes again and stared blankly at the polished marble floor.

I had spent four years without seeing him.

Four years of convincing myself that whatever happened back then belonged in the past. Four years of growing up, moving forward, and becoming someone who didn't need to feel embarrassed about a teenage crush anymore.

And somehow, seeing him again had managed to drag all those old memories back to the surface within seconds.

I sighed and leaned further into the chair.

This was ridiculous.

I hadn't come to New York for Luca.

I came for Dylan.

Dylan had texted me the room number, telling me he’d meet me downstairs as soon as his mandatory post-game press conference wrapped up. I pulled my brother's oversized jersey tighter around my body, seeking comfort in the familiar fabric, and closed my eyes to clear my head.

The lobby around me hummed with quiet activity. Hotel staff moved between the reception desk and the elevators, and the guests spoke in low voices, and somewhere nearby, I could hear the faint clatter of dishes from the hotel restaurant.

I focused on all of it.

Anything was better than thinking about the arena.

I reached into my bag and checked my phone again.

Nothing from Dylan.

I locked the screen and rested it against my thigh.

He was probably still answering questions about the game.

I smiled faintly at the thought. At least one thing about today had gone exactly the way I wanted.

My brother had won.

That was what mattered.

I was still sitting there when a voice suddenly cut through the quiet.

"Excuse me."

The deep, flat baritone voice cut through the quiet hum of the lobby. My eyes snapped open instantly.

Standing directly in front of my chair was Luca. A large, black team duffel bag was slung carelessly over his broad shoulder. He had changed into a plain black training shirt, his dark hair still damp from the locker room showers.

For one strange second, I simply stared at him.

Seeing him this close again was different from seeing him through the glass at the arena.

There was no crowd separating us now.

No ice rink.

No helmets.

No teammates moving around him.

Just Luca.

And me.

But he wasn't smirking. He wasn't looking at me with intense longing. His face was a completely blank, unreadable mask. His eyes locked onto mine, devoid of any recognition, as if I were just a stranger sitting in a seat he wanted.

Something inside me went completely still.

Maybe I had expected some kind of reaction.

A flicker of recognition.

A moment of surprise.

Anything.

Instead, there was nothing.

"I think you're in the wrong section if you're waiting for the Ravens," he said, his voice entirely neutral, cold, and professional. He glanced briefly at the bold HAYES printed across my chest, his expression never wavering. "The home team is being routed to the south elevators."

I froze, the air catching in my throat. For a second, the sheer indifference in his tone cut deeper than any insult could have. He was talking to me like he didn't even know who I was. Like the girl who had cried her eyes out over him at seventeen didn't exist in his memory at all.

My fingers tightened around the edge of the armchair.

Of course.

Why had I expected anything different?

He had never owed me a reaction then, and apparently, he didn't owe me one now.

Still, it stung.

A sharp spark of pride flared in my chest. If he wanted to play the indifference card, fine. Two could play that game. I wasn't that fragile teenager anymore.

I wasn't going to sit there and let him make me feel seventeen again.

Slowly, deliberately, I stood up from the velvet armchair. I kept my shoulders perfectly square and matched his blank, emotionless expression.

For a brief second, we simply stood there.

Neither of us moved.

Neither of us looked away.

"Thanks for the directions," I replied, my voice completely steady, dripping with the exact same casual coldness he had handed me. "But I can find my own way around. Captain."

Luca didn't flinch. He didn't blink. He just gave a single, stiff nod, his jaw tightening slightly before he looked away. "Good. Keep your brother's fans out of the Ravens' corridor. It's a distraction."

The words made my brows pull together.

Of course he'd say something like that.

Even after losing, he still sounded completely composed.

"Don't worry," I snapped, taking a firm grip on my suitcase handle. "The last thing I want to look at right now is anything to do with your team."

I didn't wait for a response. I brushed right past his broad shoulder, making sure to keep my distance as I walked away toward the elevator. My teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached.

The wheels of my suitcase rolled loudly against the polished floor as I walked away.

I kept my eyes fixed on the elevator doors ahead.

Don't look back.

I didn't.

Not even when I felt the strange weight of the encounter settling over me.

I pressed the elevator button and waited. The small red light illuminated.

I exhaled slowly.

It had been a conversation that lasted barely a minute.

Yet somehow, my heart was beating like I'd just finished running.

I hated that.

I hated that four years could disappear so quickly.

Most of all, I hated that Luca Bennett could still make me feel like I had something to prove.

The elevator doors finally slid open. I stepped inside, pulled my suitcase after me, and turned toward the mirrored wall.

My reflection stared back at me.

I straightened the oversized Hayes jersey and lifted my

chin.

I wasn't seventeen anymore.

And I refused to let one uncomfortable encounter convince me otherwise.