Chapter Three.

Liam's Pov

“Don’t look at her, don’t look at her, don’t,” I mutter under my breath as I drag my hand through my hair, pacing the empty hallway outside the rink. My skates clicked against the concrete like they’re mocking me. I shut my eyes hard.

This is ridiculous.

I stopped walking. “She’s Ethan’s sister,” I said to myself. “She’s the Coach’s daughter. She’s… off-limits.” I said it slowly, like I was trying to hypnotize myself, but the words just hung in the air doing absolutely nothing for me.

The worst part? I could still smell her perfume. Light, warm, a little nervous, like vanilla and something I couldn’t name but drives me up the damn wall.

I hit my back against the wall and whispered, “Get it together.”

But her face wouldn’t leave me alone, the way her cheeks flushed in the locker room doorway, her breath uneven, her eyes huge like I’d caught her stealing something.

Cute. Too cute.

“Liam?” someone called from inside, probably one of the boys grabbing gear.

I leaned forward on my knees trying to breathe. I shouldn’t feel like this, not for her. It was almost forbidden.

I pushed off the wall and started heading out. The rink was too hot. My head was too full. I needed air.

I didn’t get any.

Because after training, the guys decided, of course, to go out for some drinks. It was just their way of looking for women to gas their fragile egos while their girlfriends have no idea of what happened behind the scenes.

We went to a bar. Loud, crowded, full of neon lighting and perfume thick enough to choke on.

I walked in anyway, because sitting alone thinking about her would drive me insane faster.

We grabbed a booth, beers showed up, music vibrated the seats. The guys were already laughing about something I wasn’t listening to. I keep checking my phone like she might magically text me even though she obviously wouldn’t. Not like we exchanged contacts or anything like that.

“You good?” Mason nudged me. “You’re staring at that screen like it owes you money.”

“I’m fine,” I mutter.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m fantastic.”

Before he could tease more, someone stopped at our table.

A girl, tall with thick blonde hair. Wearing something that looks like fabric’s worst attempt at being clothing. She leaned forward on the edge of our booth, smiling straight at me like she already decided I was hers.

“Hi,” she purred. “You’re Liam, right? Number 14?”

Mason grins like it’s Christmas eve and there would be a basket of sweets knocking at the door. “Oh boy. Here we go.”

The girl shifts even closer, too close, hand brushing my arm deliberately. “You played amazing yesterday. I saw you.”

I should be into this. The old me would have been into this. The old me wouldn’t even hesitate, heck I would have dived into her mouth right away. But no. I was not in the stupid mood to do any fucking or kissing.

All I could think was, she’s not Ava.

I shifted back a little. “Uh, thanks.”

She didn’t get the fucking hint. Her fingers trail up my forearm. “Do you wanna come dance with me? Or maybe…”

“Go, man,” Theo said, practically elbowing me out of the booth. “She’s literally begging you with her eyes.”

“Damn,” Mason whistled, “if you don’t go for that, there’s something wrong with you.”

But every time the girl touched me, it felt static instead of warmth. Empty instead of exciting.

A flash of Ava hit me, her nervous swallow, the way her eyes darted away then back, her voice soft when she said, I work here.

And suddenly the girl’s perfume was too strong. She laughed too loud. Her touch was wrong.

I gently removed her hand from my arm.

“I’m good,” I said. “Really. Just not in the mood.”

She blinked, confused. “You… don’t want to?”

The table went silent.

Mason’s eyes nearly popped out. “Dude. What?”

Theo looked between us like I’ve committed a crime. “Bro, she’s literally offering herself,”

“Yeah,” I said quickly, “I got it.”

The girl forced a smile and backed up, humiliated. “Right. Okay. Sorry.” She slipped into the crowd.

The second she’s gone, the table exploded.

“Are you sick?”

“Are you dying?”

“Do you need medical attention?”

“Liam turning down a girl, write it down as a historical event.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair.

Mason leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “This… wouldn’t have anything to do with Coach’s daughter, would it?”

I froze. A little too stiff like I had been caught red handed stealing.

He bursts out laughing. “Holy shit. It does.”

“It doesn’t,” I snapped, but my voice was too sharp to be convincing.

“Oh, so it…does,” Theo adds. “Dude, you stared at her all afternoon like she was a dessert plate and you skipped lunch.”

“She’s Ethan’s sister,” I spat out.

“And?”

“And Coach’s daughter.”

“And?”

“And—”

I stopped. Because I didn't know what the hell ‘and’ even is.

Mason smirked. “Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.”

I looked away, jaw tight.

The rest of the night was a blur of noise I didn't care about. Every laugh, every joke, every clink of glasses just pushed me further into my own head.

Once, girls like that blonde were my default. They were easy and mindless. But tonight she touched me and all I felt was the absence of someone else. I felt nauseous because of her touch.

A shorter girl with soft eyes and short dark hair that barely brushes her jaw. A girl who looked like she forgot how to breathe when she saw me.

A girl I probably shouldn’t want.

A girl I couldn’t stop wanting anyway.

When the night finally died down, I stepped outside into the cold air. It bit at my skin, cleared my head just a little.

I lean against the brick wall behind the bar and breathe.

“She cut her hair,” I whispered to no one. “And it shouldn’t matter. But it does.”

Because it makes her look grown. Sharp. Beautiful in a way that hits too hard.

“She grew up,” I said quietly. “And I wasn’t ready for it. At least not yet.”

Her face flashed in my mind, bright eyes, flushed cheeks, the way her voice trembled like she wasn’t sure she should be talking to me.

I closed my eyes, exhaling shakily.

“Get out of my head,” I whispered.

She’s everywhere. In every breath, every thought, every goddamn heartbeat.

And I hated it and I probably wanted more of it.

“You’re trouble,” I murmur to the empty night.

“You’re going to ruin me, aren’t you?”

My chest rose and fell too fast.

“But damn,” I breathe, letting it fall out of me, “you’re beautiful.”

And for the first time in a long time, I realized something terrifying.

The old me was gone. I didn't know if I should be glad about it, but I wanted to know more than anything what Ava’s lips tasted like.

Because if she’s not the one touching me,

I didn’t want to be touched.