1

NOAH MASON

The first time I laid my eyes on Takumi Williams was on the hockey field, right after our match with the Harrington Wolves.

I wasn't used to losses. And even more, I wasn't used to my opponents visibly gloating after defeating my team. But there Takumi Williams was, smiling from ear to ear as his team celebrated their victory.

More than anything at that moment, I wanted to wipe that stupid smile off his face. That stupid smile that made his face light up, his dark eyes glisten, and his thick hair fall over his forehead as he jumped around with his teammates.

But I couldn't. And instead, I was left to deal with the aftermath of having my new enemy suddenly wink at me the second he realized I was glaring at him.

The second time I laid my eyes on Takumi Williams was later that night. My father had forced me to attend a family dinner to introduce his new girlfriend to me. The mere information had pissed me off, and the only reason I was attending was to show my displeasure to both the girlfriend and the man I called my father. But much to my surprise—and greater displeasure—Takumi Williams sat across the table, my father introducing him as his girlfriend's son.

He still had that stupid smile on his face, making me wonder if that was his default expression. I couldn't relate to that, and it only made me angrier. What exactly about life made him so particularly cheerful?

He was no longer wearing the hockey jersey from earlier. Now, he was dressed in a peach shirt and dark pants. His hair was neatly styled, though I had to admit I preferred it messy. His eyes looked brown now, and I had to spend five whole seconds trying to figure out whether it was because of the room's lighting.

"Meet Sakura," my dad introduced his girlfriend to me. "And her son, Takumi."

"Nice to finally meet you, Noah," Sakura spoke up, and I could finally tell where Takumi got his annoying cheerfulness from. "I've heard so much about you. You're the captain of the Harrington Titans, right? Takumi is a player on the Wolves team. You both have something in common, so you should get along easily."

I didn't bother looking at Takumi, but I could feel his eyes on me. I didn't speak, and neither did he, but I was certain very different thoughts were running through our minds.

A few minutes later, I pushed my untouched plate away.

"Please, excuse me," I said as I rose to my feet. "I need to go. Have a nice meal."

As I turned to leave, my gaze accidentally collided with Takumi's. He looked almost amused.

"See you around, captain," he said.

I left without replying.

The third time I laid my eyes on Takumi Williams was at our parents' wedding. Dressed in a grey suit that made me certain he looked decent in all colours, he stood among the guests, smiling at his mother. I stood several meters away in a black suit, a frown permanently etched onto my face as I watched the ceremony unfold.

Out of the dozens of people who attended the wedding, I was the only one unwilling to fake my emotions. Disgust, anger, confusion, irritation—all of it flooded my veins. And maybe if Takumi had kept his mouth shut, I'd have waited long enough to see if there was anyone else like me.

"They look good together, don't they?"

His words had to be an attempt to rage-bait me, and I refused to fall for it. So, I shoved my hands into my pockets, released a deep exhale, and turned to face him.

"No, they don't."

"Come on, don't be such a spoilsport," he chuckled. Hearing him speak from so close, I could detect an accent. Not too strong, but noticeable enough to have me curling my tongue in intrigue. "Don't tell me you're still pissed at my team for beating you that day. Come on, captain. Don't be such a baby."

The only saving grace was how he immediately ran a hand through his hair, leaving me momentarily speechless. Quickly reminding myself that looking good with messy hair wasn't exactly uncommon, I bit the inside of my cheek and replied, "Your team won that day simply because of luck."

"So, you do admit you were unlucky. Is that why you're mad?"

I balled my fists. "I'm not mad. At you or anyone else. Because I know it takes a different type of stupid to think the Wolves are better than the Titans. Or that marrying Jonathon Mason is a good idea."

For a brief second, something unreadable crossed Takumi's face. Immediately, I looked away.

Ahead of us, my father slipped a ring onto Sakura's finger as applause erupted around the venue. Everyone clapped. Everyone smiled. Everyone except me.

I suddenly couldn't stand being there another second. Without another word, I turned around and walked away. Out of the venue. Out of the wedding.

And after that, I never saw Takumi Williams again.

Or so I hoped.

Because I knew we were going to cross paths again. Especially when I heard we had another upcoming match against his team.

I trained even harder than I had for my entrance championship. And when the day of the match finally came, we won.

But it didn't feel half as good.

Simply because Takumi Williams was nowhere to be found.

Within the next eight weeks, we played four more matches against the Wolves. Every single time, we won. And every single time, I was left infuriated because Takumi was still nowhere to be found.

After the fourth match, I decided to find him myself.

And fortunately—or rather unfortunately—I found him on I*******m.

It wasn't hard to figure out why he had been absent for the past four matches. He had been scouted by a Japanese university team and had left both the Wolves and the country.

Which was good.

The relief didn't truly sink in until three weeks later. Three weeks of checking his I*******m and realizing he was genuinely never coming back. Three weeks of having no reason to train like a lunatic at the thought of facing the Wolves.

It should have remained that way forever. After all, an entire year had passed without him ever showing up again.

Our match against the Harrington Wolves was supposed to be just another easy win. But as the players skated onto the ice, sticks slapping aggressively against the rink, I caught sight of a familiar name stitched across a jersey.

Williams.