Chapter Two.

Ava’s Pov

“I swear this direction makes no sense,” I mutter under my breath as my shoes squeak against the hallway floor. The stadium feels too big.

“Dad could’ve at least drawn arrows or something,” I grumble, hugging my camera bag tighter.

“Hello?” I call out weakly, because the silence suddenly feels unfriendly. “Anyone here?” My voice bounces back at me. Great. I roll my eyes at myself and push open the next door, hoping it’s the equipment room like Dad said.

Instead warm air hits me, thick with deodorant and steam and something that screams boys. Very sweaty boys at that.

“Oh no,” I whisper, stepping inside too quickly to stop myself. “This is…this is not–”

A low laugh floats from the far end. A door swings open and I look up. And that’s when I saw him. Again.

Liam. Broad shoulders. Towel riding his hips. Wet hair dripping down his jaw. And not alone. A girl is beside him fixing her shirt, cheeks flushed in a way that leaves absolutely nothing to imagination. You could already tell what went on in there.

My mouth drops open. “I…oh my God–I didn’t know, I wasn’t supposed— this is the boys locker room I’m so so so sorry—” I stammered, overwhelmed.

He leans against the doorframe with the laziest smirk, like he’s posing specifically to watch me fall apart. “Lost, Little Pinecrust?”

He remembers me. My soul left my body immediately.

The girl slips past me, refusing to make eye contact. I wanted to follow her, to flee from the situation but my feet won’t work and my brain is melting. Liam tilts his head, eyes dragging slowly from my shoes to my face, and the corner of his mouth lifts like he’s thoroughly enjoying the show of me trying to form actual English.

“I shouldn’t be here,” I finally squeak.

“No,” he says, voice too smooth, “you really shouldn’t.”

That does it. I spin around so fast my hair smacks me in the face, mumbling an apology that sounds like a dying animal, nearly tripping over my own foot as I scurry out of the locker room in a full panic. Behind me I could feel his eyes, heavy and entertained, watching my tiny mouse self flee for safety.

By the time I reached the rink my heart was still sprinting. I breathe it in, let it cool my cheeks, let it erase the image of Liam leaning half-dressed with a girl in the bathroom like rules never applied to him, which apparently they didn’t.

I set up my tripod near the boards, fingers trembling, trying to look like a normal functioning human. The players started filtering in, loud and chaotic, smacking each other, yelling inside jokes. They didn’t know who I was yet, so of course the flirting began immediately they set their eyes on me.

“Hey cam girl, are you filming us or scouting for cute ones? Make sure to get some hot pics of me during practice.” one of them called with a wink.

“Depends,” another said, “You like hockey guys or soccer guys?”

I laughed awkwardly but didn't answer. If they knew I was the coach’s daughter, they’d run laps until sunrise even joking like that.

I was adjusting the lighting when someone’s shadow stretched long across the ice. Slow, confident steps. I didn’t lift my head immediately because I felt it first. That warm prickle at the base of my neck like someone’s gaze is touching my skin.

“Pinecrust,” a voice says.

My breath stalled. I looked up. Liam stood there in full practice gear, gloves hanging from two fingers, puck spinning lazily in his palm. His eyes locked on mine like he’s been waiting for this exact moment.

“You’re everywhere today,” he murmured, stepping closer to the glass.

“I work here,” I manage to whisper.

“Do you?” he said, grinning again.

Our eyes met and something electric zipped between us, sharp and immediate. He didn’t break eye contact when he skates backward, only winks slowly, before turning toward the center line. My stomach flipped in a way that annoyed me because I should not react to someone who literally had a girl pressed against a locker room wall some minutes ago.

Practice started and I try to focus on the camera but Liam keeps drifting closer whenever he has the chance.

He skate past me on a sprint, voice dropping low. “You always blush this easy?”

“What— I’m not—” my throat folds in on itself.

Another pass and he murmured, “Cute.”

Another. “Love the Wolfe hair cut. Looks good on you, Pinecrust.”

Another. “Bet you taste sweet.”

My face was burning so badly I considered dunking myself in the ice barrel. And the worst part, he knew exactly what he’s doing.

I was not the only one noticing though.

He skate to me again half practice, leaning against the glass, his face inches from mine, lips curled with something in his eyes. My breathe hitched, eyes locked with his and my mind all over the place.

“Liam!” Ethan barked suddenly, voice slicing through every echo in the rink.

“Shit,” I whispered to myself.

My brother stormed across the ice. His stick slaps against the boards right in front of me and every player turned, startled.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Ethan snapped.

Liam slows to a stop, chin raised, eyes locked on Ethan with that devilish calm that only pissed my brother off more.

“Practicing,” Liam said nonchalant.

“Don’t play stupid. I saw you flirting with her.”

The rink goes silent. Every helmet swivels toward me.

I wanted to shrink into my camera bag and disappear.

“She’s off-limits, Liam. Stay the fuck away from her. Don’t mistake her to be one of those girls you use and dump the way you please, you hear me?” Ethan growls.

“Why? It's not like you have an interest in her, do you?! You've never been interested in anyone since I've known you,” Liam laughed. He wasn't taking any of it serious.

Ethan grinds his jaw, his gaze dangerous. “That’s my sister. And I don't want you messing her up. So—Stay. Awa.”

A rumble float through the players— shock, whispers, someone muttering “Oh, no wonder he lost his shit.”

Every guy who flirted with me earlier suddenly looked like he wanted to dig his own grave.

Liam’s smirk didn’t budge. In fact it deepens.

“Sister,” he repeated after Ethan, glancing at me like this revelation just made me ten times more interesting.

Ethan steped closer. “I know your history more than anyone else. And if you so much as look at her again—”

Liam slide forward until his blade scrapes Ethan’s. “Or what?” His voice was low, dangerous in the softest way. “You gonna make sure the coach bench me because I noticed someone before you warned me off?”

Ethan’s fists clenched around his stick.

“Enough,” Dad calls from the sidelines. His voice was calm but heavy, like a weight falling into the space between them. “All of you focus. Summer Cup is weeks away. The Frost Ravens and the Blackshore Runners aren’t spending their time flirting. Skate.”

He emphasized that last word so hard the ice got colder.

The players scattered. Ethan shot me an apologetic look before pushing off. Liam gave me one last glance over his shoulder, something unreadable, something heated, before following Ethan.

The tension didn’t fade. It threaded through every pass, every rush, every slam into the boards. My hands shake as I adjusted the lens, trying not to catch Liam watching, but I could feel his eyes on me.

The gym finally emptied, the echo of bouncing balls fading as the last players drifted out. I slipped my bag over my shoulder just as Liam jogged up beside me, still catching his breath, hair damp from practice.

“You didn’t leave,” he said, a tiny smile tugging at his mouth.

“I said I’d wait,” I replied, trying to sound casual even though my heartbeat was anything but that.

He nudged my arm lightly. “So you were watching.” I rolled my eyes.

“No, I wasn't. I was simply doing my job as the teams PR. Hopefully that stunt that happened earlier wouldn't repeat itself. I hate seeing my brother pissed off like that,” I said.

His grin widened before softening into something quieter and more mischievous.

“I hope the same, Pinecrust. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Huh? What did he mean? My brows drew together before my gaze crashed on his face.

He was already walking towards the exit.

And for some reason, I looked forward to seeing him tomorrow.