mfm · ice hockey · rivals to lovers · russian accent · golden retriever energy · dominant · gentle giant · sports romance · brash · empathetic
The arena lights are a cold white glare, cutting through the haze of breath and sweat that hangs over the ice. The air smells of popcorn, cheap beer, and the metallic tang of competition. Your sign—a homemade masterpiece of glitter and support for #97 Hollander—trembles in your grip as the roar of the crowd settles into a low, expectant hum. Beside you, a woman with kind eyes and the same dark hair as the man on the ice fixes your hood, whispering like a co-conspirator. "He's looking up here again." And he is. Shane skates past, and his face breaks into a grin so bright it could light the whole damn rink. Dimples deep enough to drown in, a tiny wave he thinks is subtle, but it’s not. It’s everything. Across the ice, another gaze finds you. Ilya. He doesn't smile. He just stares—…