Jace's POV

My lungs burned as I dashed off the face-off dot, I dug my stick blade into the ice, the puck snapped back to me clean. I dropped my shoulders low, and drove hard. I carried it through the neutral zone, faked left, cut right, and ripped a wrist shot that whistled past the goalie's glove. The net rattled, my teammates banged their sticks against the boards.

I didn't celebrate, I skated back to center ice, my jaw tight, already signaling for the next drill. My shoulders felt heavy under the pads even though practice had barely started. This was my job as the Captain; The one everyone looked to when things got messy, I had to be the example.

Mike tapped my shin pad as he lined up beside me. "You're on another level today, man."

I gave him a quick nod but didn't answer. Words took energy I didn't want to waste. Instead, I focused on the cold air biting at my face, the way my skates gripped the ice when I pushed off. Every stride had to be perfect and every decision sharp. Because if I slipped, even a little, it gave Dad another reason to point it out later.

We ran drill after drill, I won every face-off, threaded passes through tight gaps and blocked shots that should have beat me. My legs screamed after the third suicide sprint, but I kept my face blank. Captains aren't supposed to show it hurts. I circled back, called out adjustments to the defensemen and tapped gloves when someone made a good play. On the outside I looked in control. Inside, my mind wouldn't shut up.

By the time the coach blew the whistle I was drenched in sweat, my jersey had clung to my back. I pulled off my helmet and dragged a hand through my wet hair. The arena lights felt too bright as they stabbed my face. My shoulder twinged; that same dull ache that had been there for weeks but I rolled it once and ignored it.

"Good effort today, Carter" Coach said as we headed off the ice, "keep leading like that."

I forced a half-smile. "Thanks."

In the locker room the guys were loud, joking about weekend plans, parties and chirping each other about missed shots. I sat on the bench in front of my stall and unlaced my skates slowly. The laces felt rough against my fingers, my hands were steady but my mind kept replaying every small mistake from practice. That one backcheck where I'd been half a stride late, the pass that could have been harder, all the things Dad would definitely see.

My phone vibrated on the shelf above my stall. I stared at it for a few seconds and hesitated before picking it up, the name on the screen made my stomach drop.

It was Dad.

I stepped out into the hallway near the arena exit, away from the noise. The concrete floor felt cold through my socks. I leaned against the wall, my thumb hovering over the answer button, then I pressed it.

"Hey, Dad."

There was a pause; the kind that always meant trouble.

"Jace." His voice was flat, like he was reading stats off a sheet, "I watched the footage your coach sent over...what exactly am I supposed to be looking at here?"

I paced the narrow hallway and flexed my free hand at my side, my socks slid a little on the smooth floor. "I scored four times and controlled the tempo the whole practice. The guys were following my lead on-"

"You were half a step slow coming back on that power play," he interrupted,"and left a soft spot in the slot. I ran those same systems better at your age with worse players around me. The scouts are going to notice that hesitation, they always do."

My throat tightened. I stopped near a water fountain and gripped the edge of it, staring at the metal drain. The ache in my shoulder flared again as I gripped harder, I loosened my fingers but didn't let go.

"I adjusted after that," I said, keeping my voice even. "We ran it clean the next three times."

"Adjusting isn't enough when you're the one wearing the C," he replied. "You're supposed to set the standard, not catch up to it. I didn't raise you to be average, Jace. I won two championships by twenty-one. People still talk about those runs, what are they going to say about yours if you keep playing like this?"

I closed my eyes for a second, the hallway felt smaller. My breathing sounded too loud in my own ears, I opened my eyes and stared at the painted cinder block wall until the texture blurred.

"I'm trying to lead them the right way," I muttered,"the team's undefeated. We're ranked top five nationally."

Silence stretched on the line. I could picture him sitting in his office back home, probably shaking his head the way he always did.

"Trying doesn't win rings," he finally said. "And undefeated doesn't mean shit if you fold when it matters. Fix the gaps in your game and stop wasting time on things that don't move the needle. I expect the next footage to look like a captain actually earned that letter."

The call ended with a soft click.

I lowered the phone and stood completely still for a long moment, my hand stayed wrapped around the device until my knuckles ached.

My mind kept looping through his words; half a step slow, average and not enough. I pressed my forehead against the cool wall and just breathed In through my nose, out through my mouth, the way I did before big games. It didn't stop the tightness spreading across my chest but it helped

As I stood there, the memory from earlier flashed back.

That girl in the quad.

She had come around the corner fast, head down, earbuds in. My shoulder had collided with hers. She stumbled, and for a second she fell right into me. My hands had caught her arms automatically.

She was slim, lighter than I expected. Her palms had pressed against my chest through my jacket. Her skin was warm, smooth where my fingers had wrapped around her upper arms. When she looked up, her expressive eyes were wide; not just from surprise, but something sharper. Maybe fear, like she was already pulling away even while I held her steady.

For that brief moment, something had shifted, a quiet pull. The way her breath caught, the way my own grip had lingered a second longer than necessary before I let go. She smelled faintly like coffee and something clean, like fresh laundry. Then she stepped back quickly, muttered something, and hurried away.

I shook my head, pushing the memory aside. My shoulder throbbed again. I rolled it carefully.

I couldn't afford distractions right now. Not with Dad watching, not with the team counting on me and not with everything riding on how I performed.

But the feel of her in my arms for that one second wouldn't leave me alone.

I thought about the guys in the locker room laughing right now. They saw the captain who scored and led drills but they didn't see this version; the one standing in an empty hallway trying not to crack because his dad's voice still lived rent-free in his head no matter how many goals he scored.

My shoulder throbbed again. I rolled it carefully, testing the pain. It had been getting worse for weeks, but telling anyone meant questions. Questions led to weakness, and weakness led to more talks like this one.

I straightened up, shoved the phone into my pocket, and walked back toward the locker room. My steps felt heavier than they should after practice. The noise of the team spilled out into the hall as I got closer to laughter, trash talk and someone blasting music. I paused just outside the door, rested my hand on the frame and forced my face into the version they expected. Calm, In control and ready.

Because that's what captains did.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Chapter 3: Viral

Ariana's POV

I hunched over my notebook in the library's back corner, my earbuds jammed so deep into my ears they started to hurt. The words on the page refused to stay still. That half-second earlier of Jace Carter laughing with his teammates and me walking bumping into his chest kept replaying nonstop no matter how hard I tried to shove it away. I pressed my pen harder into the paper until the tip almost tore through.

My phone started vibrating against the wooden table. First once, twice then nonstop. I frowned and flipped it over. Notifications flooded the screen so fast the numbers blurred.

I opened the top one.

It was a video.

It showed me head down, my earbuds plugged in as I walked fast across the quad. Jace and his group were around the corner. My shoulder slammed into his chest then I stumbled, his hand instantly reached out and caught my arm to steady me. Someone had slowed that part down; made it look deliberate and intimate.

The caption read: "Hockey captain meets his mystery girl #CollisionCouple"

Comments poured in underneath.

"Who is she?"

"Jace finally got a girlfriend?"

"She's actually cute, not like the usual ones."

"They look good together."

My hand tightened on the phone. I yanked one earbud out. My fingers felt cold as I scrolled faster, twenty-three thousand views already. It was almost like the shares increased every time I blinked. Someone had stitched it with romantic music and heart effects.

This wasn't real, it was two seconds of me not paying attention and now the whole campus was turning it into something else.

I shoved my notebook into my bag and left the library. I walked fast along the path and strapped my backpack onto my shoulder. Every few steps my phone buzzed again, I silenced it but couldn't stop checking. There were more tags, more comments, people that I didn't even know were commenting on my face, my clothes, whether I was "good enough" for Jace Carter.

By the time I pushed open my dorm door, my breathing was uneven. Becca was already sitting inside, her legs crossed on her bed with her laptop open. The video played on her screen the second I walked in.

"Ariana," she said, her voice high with excitement. "You collided with Jace Carter? And didn't tell me? This video is blowing up everywhere, look at how he grabbed your arm. People are losing their minds."

I dropped my bag on the floor. It landed with a dull thud. I stood there, my arms hanging at my sides as I stared at her screen. In the slowed clip, Jace's hand looked gentle on my arm and my face looked surprised, almost soft. I hated it.

"It was an accident," I said. My voice came out flat. "I didn't see him....I was trying to get to the library. That's all."

Becca leaned forward, her messy brown hair falling into her eyes. "Accident or not, it looks good. Half the comments think you two are secretly dating. The other half wants to know your name, this could be huge for you."

I started pacing between the beds. I took three steps, one way turned and three steps back. My socks made soft sounds on the floor. "I don't want huge, I don't want any of this but people are already assuming things. If the scholarship board sees this, they might think I'm distracted and that I'm not serious about my work."

Becca closed her laptop but kept watching me. "You're spiraling again, it's just a silly video. I'm sure by tomorrow it'll be old news."

I stopped near my desk and gripped the edge with both hands.The memory of Davian pushed in without warning; him laughing with his friends while telling them how I was "too much work." How he had used every quiet confession I gave him as entertainment. My throat burned and I swallowed hard but the tightness stayed.

"I can't afford silly," I said quietly. "I have one shot at this scholarship, just one shot to get out of here and build something real. If people start linking me to Jace Carter, they'll assume I'm just another girl chasing attention, then professors will look at me differently and everything I've worked for could look cheap."

Becca stood up and came closer, her bright energy felt too loud in the small room. "Ari, you can't let what Davian did control every part of your life. Not every guy is going to use you and throw you away."

I turned away from her and pressed my forehead against the cool window glass. Students moved across the quad below, many of them stared at their phones, probably the same video.

"You don't get it," I whispered. "When Davian left, he didn't just break up with me. He made sure everyone knew I wasn't enough, he took the parts of me I trusted him with and made them jokes. I'm not doing that again, I just...can't."

Silence stretched between us. I heard Becca shift her weight but she didn't speak right away. My hands were shaking slightly so I shoved them into my sweater pockets.

My phone buzzed on the bed, I ignored it at first then it buzzed again. I picked it up slowly.

Unknown number.

Unknown: Hey, this is Jace. Saw the video going around, sorry about bumping into you. Can we talk sometime?

I stared at the message until the letters blurred, my hands tightened on the phone then my heart started beating hard against my ribs. I showed the screen to Becca without saying anything and her eyes widened.

"He texted you. Jace actually texted you."

I locked the phone and tossed it back on the bed like it could burn me. I started pacing again, shorter steps this time, and wrapped my arms around my stomach, the room felt smaller and the walls closer. Everything was moving too fast and I couldn't stop it.

I don't want Jace Carter in my life, I don't want his number and I don't want the campus to watch and judge me, pairing me with someone who represented everything I was trying to avoid.

But the video was already out there. The rumors had started and now the golden boy himself had reached out.

I stopped pacing and sat heavily on my bed as I put my elbows on my knees, head down. I dug my fingers into my scalp.

"What do I do now?"