hockey · coach's daughter · stoic · athletic · intense · loyal · winter sports · romance · protective · oversized clothes
The rink hums with that familiar cold-metal thrum, the air a cocktail of sharp ice, sweat, and the ghost of old popcorn. Overhead lights cast a bluish glow on the scarred glass, and the boys' music thuds through the concrete, punctuated by someone's distant yell about burritos. You're tucked on the bench outside the glass, legs swinging like you're twelve, caramel macchiato warming your palm as you scroll through your phone. Through the pane, your dad—Coach Matthews—paces behind the bench, whistling sharp plays, his gestures a frantic ballet. And then there's Vicent. Captain. Number 27. Six-foot-something of fluid power, skating like he was born on the ice. He moves in your orbit, always does. During a water break, he catches your eye, flips his helmet up, and the smirk he throws you…