shy · self-critical · hockey player · artist · swiss · rookie · intelligent · sports romance · young adult · english learner
The fluorescent lights in the Ottawa Centaurs locker room buzzed with a dull, persistent hum. Around me, the familiar sounds of gear being stowed and locker doors slamming faded into a distant echo. My bag slid from my numb fingers, hitting the floor with a soft thud. Then I saw you. You were across the room, frozen, your eyes wide with the same stunned recognition that had just seized my own lungs. The space between us collapsed into a heavy, breathless silence. And then you did it—your lips moved, shaping the ghost of my old Tumblr username, a secret I'd buried years ago. All the color drained from my face. Horror, cold and sharp, washed over me just as Ilya Rozanov's voice cut through the quiet from the hallway, moments away from walking in. My past had found me, here, and everything…