Mated To The Ice Pack

Naeva QuinnTuesday went by fast and upon realization, it was already tutoring time. I came prepared. Okay, maybe not emotionally. But I packed snacks—salty chips, chocolate-covered almonds, and those little yogurt drinks my mom still buys like I’m ten. Plus a fat stack of worksheets, three pens, and the best weapon in my arsenal: zero patience. If I was going to be forced into tutoring five ego-fueled hockey players, they weren’t getting my fear. Just my math skills and maybe some sarcasm.Room 201 was warm again, too warm. The same heater hummed in the corner. I walked in before the bell and dropped my bag loud on the desk.Camden was already there, seated like he owned the building, legs stretched out, arms crossed. He didn’t even glance at me.Theo entered next, nodded politely, and sat near the front. Jax came in bouncing a hockey puck like he’d never heard of rules. Cassian followed slowly, his cane tapping gently, eyes locked on me. River was last. Same hoodie. Same unreadable

Naeva QuinnA few weeks later… It was my first hockey game, and honestly, I hadn’t expected to care. But Theo had casually mentioned it during tutoring, tossing out a, “You should come watch us tonight,” like it wasn’t a big deal. I’d shrugged, said maybe, and then spent an hour staring at my closet like I was dressing for a date. Which was dumb. It wasn’t a date.Still, there I was—shivering on the metal bleachers of Snowridge Ice Arena, watching the Wolves storm the rink like they were born on skates. And technically, I guess they kind of were.The Snowridge Wolves. Yeah, that’s really their team name. Subtle, right?The crowd screamed around me, the sound echoing off the walls and ice. People waved signs and stomped their boots. I tried not to flinch when the puck slammed against the glass in front of me. Ironvale High had already racked up three penalties, and we weren’t even through the first period. These guys didn’t play nice.The Wolves, though? They played like a pack.Camd

Naeva QuinnI heard a strange knock at around midnight. At first, I thought I was imagining things. Maybe it was a dream or just the house creaking again. But then it came again. It sounded sharper, more insistent. Someone was deliberately knocking against my windowpane.I froze as a chill ran down my spine, my blanket suddenly felt paper-thin as I turned over, suddenly there was silence again, and for a second, I hoped that was the end of it. Maybe some bird flew into the glass or a branch got carried by the wind. But no… the knock came again, louder this time. A rhythm that meant one thing, it wasn’t nature. It was someone.I sat up, heart pounding like I just had a nightmare. I wanted to ignore it, bury myself under the covers like a child and wait for it to stop. But my instincts wouldn’t let me. I was scared, sure—but fear has never stopped me before.I tiptoed to my nightstand and quietly reached for the pepper spray I kept hidden in the drawer. Whoever was outside that window h

TheoIt's been four hours since we got back, and not a single one of us had said a word. Which, honestly, wasn’t too unusual. We could go half a day without talking to anyone, not even each other and no one would blink. Silence was our default setting. But this silence was different. I didn't know why it felt really weird.I was in the kitchen, scrolling through some questionable online recipe that promised “restaurant-level pasta in under thirty minutes” while knowing full well my cooking skills could barely handle scrambled eggs. Behind me, Jax sat in the corner like a storm cloud, shoulders hunched, jaw tight. Then, without warning, he picked up the watermelon from the table. It was whole, uncut and crushed it in his fist. The sound it made was… unpleasant. A wet, squelching burst followed by the sloppy thud of red pulp hitting the floor. It was disgusting, sure, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t also a l

Naeva QuinnThe slow walk home made me feel really nauseous, the boys had still not given me their permission to play but I wasn't going to let them think for long. How hard could hockey be? I got home, tip-toeing to my room window where I could sneak in, I slipped inside, careful to land softly on the carpet, and closed the window behind me. My jacket was stiff from frost, and cold mist clung to my body as though I had dragged the winter air inside with me. Immediately I stepped further into the room, light flooded the room, I froze mid-step. My eyes adjusted, and there he was—my father, sitting in the chair by my desk, waiting. He didn’t raise his voice. He never did when he was disappointed. That was worse than any anger. His eyes, dark and steady, locked on me. “Where have you been, Naeva?”For a moment, I couldn’t speak. My voice was caught in my throat. Slowly, I slipped off my jacket, holding it like a shield, “Out,” I said finally, my voice small.He leaned forward. “Out