At the Winter Olympics, everything is supposed to be about medals, records, and representing your country.
For Alysa Liu, figure skating has always been her world—graceful, controlled, and fiercely individual. After making history with her gold medal performance, she expects nothing more than media interviews, celebrations, and the quiet pressure of staying on top.
For you, Team USA’s star hockey player and newly crowned Olympic gold medalist, life is the complete opposite—fast, physical, loud, and built on teamwork. You thrive in chaos, in the clash of sticks and ice, in a game where emotions run as high as the stakes.
You were never supposed to meet.
But one accidental collision in the Olympic Village—literally—changes everything.
What starts as a sarcastic exchange turns into late-night conversations, secret meetups between events, and a connection neither of you expected in the middle of the biggest competition of your lives. With cameras everywhere, national expectations looming, and your schedules pulling you in opposite directions, falling for each other is the one risk you can’t afford to take.
Yet somehow… it’s the only thing that feels real.
Because winning gold was supposed to be the highlight of the Olympics.
It was in the air, in the way everything sharpened just a little-the sounds louder, the movements quicker, the focus tighter. Your team felt it too. No one was joking as much in the locker room, no music blasting like usual.
Just quiet determination.
You sat on the bench, elbows on your knees, taping your stick slower than usual. Your mind should've been locked in on the game plan, on plays, on strategy.
Instead-
It drifted.
Uninvited.
Annoying.
Dangerous.
You clenched your jaw slightly, tightening the tape a little too hard.
"Hey."
You glanced up. One of your teammates stood in front of you, eyebrow raised.
"You good?"
"Yeah," you said quickly. "Just thinking."
"Don't think too much," she said. "You play better when you don't."
You huffed a quiet laugh. "Noted."
She nodded once before heading off, leaving you alone again.
You exhaled slowly, leaning back slightly.
Don't think.
Right.
That should've been easy.
---
The tunnel leading to the ice was loud-skates scraping, sticks tapping, the distant roar of the crowd bleeding through the walls.
You rolled your shoulders, bouncing lightly on your skates as you waited with your team.
This was it.
Everything you'd worked for.
Everything leading up to this moment.
And for once-
Your mind was clear.
No distractions.
No lingering thoughts.
Just hockey.
Just the game.
---
The first period was brutal.
Fast. Physical. Relentless.
Exactly how you liked it.
You moved instinctively-cutting across the ice, reading plays before they happened, throwing your body into every check like it mattered.
Because it did.
Midway through the period, you intercepted a pass, pushing the puck forward, your teammate skating up beside you.
"Go!" she shouted.
You didn't hesitate.
You drove forward, stick steady, heart pounding as a defender closed in-
You shifted, faked left, then shot-
The puck slammed into the net.
Goal.
The arena exploded.
Your teammates rushed you, shouting, laughing, the energy overwhelming in the best way possible.
You grinned, breathless, adrenaline flooding your system.
This.
This was what you were here for.
---
By the time the final buzzer sounded, your legs felt like they might give out.
But it didn't matter.
Because you'd won.
Gold.
Your team piled together on the ice, helmets coming off, sticks thrown aside, pure chaos and celebration taking over.
You laughed, pulling one of your teammates into a hug before getting dragged into another.
Everything felt loud.
Bright.
Perfect.
You barely registered the medal being placed around your neck.
Barely heard the anthem.
Barely felt anything except-
Relief.
And something else.
Something quieter.
Something that didn't belong in this moment.
---
Later, after the interviews, after the celebrations started to die down just a little, you slipped away.
Just for a second.
Just to breathe.
The hallway outside the arena was quieter, the noise fading the farther you walked. You leaned back against the wall, closing your eyes briefly.
You did it.
You actually did it.
A gold medal hung around your neck.
And yet-
Your first thought wasn't your team.
Or your coach.
Or even your family.
It was-
"...You're smiling."
Your eyes snapped open.
And there she was.
Alysa Liu stood a few steps away, hands tucked into her jacket, watching you.
You let out a small breath, shaking your head slightly. "I think I'm allowed to."
"I didn't say you weren't."
Her lips curved faintly.
You pushed off the wall, stepping a little closer. "You came."
The second the words left your mouth, you realized-
They sounded familiar.
Her eyebrow lifted slightly, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. "I could say the same thing."
You huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah. Fair."
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then her gaze dropped-to the medal around your neck.
"You won," she said softly.
It wasn't a question.
You nodded once. "Yeah."
Another pause.
Then-
"Congratulations."
Simple.
But the way she said it-
It landed.
"Thanks," you said, quieter.
She stepped a little closer.
Not a lot.
Just enough.
"You played well," she added.
You blinked slightly. "You watched?"
She shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. "It's the Olympics."
You tilted your head. "That's your excuse for everything."
"It works."
You smiled faintly.
There it was again.
Easy.
Natural.
Dangerous.
Your gaze flickered to her face, then back to her eyes.
"Did you-?" you started, then hesitated.
She noticed.
"Did I what?"
You swallowed slightly. "Your results."
She held your gaze for a second.
Then nodded.
"I got it."
Your chest tightened. "Gold?"
A small pause.
Then-
"Yeah."
You let out a breath, a grin breaking across your face before you could stop it. "Of course you did."
That got a real smile out of her.
"You don't sound surprised."
"I'm not."
The words came out easily.
Honestly.
Her expression shifted slightly-softer, quieter.
"Thanks," she said.
The same word as before.
But it felt heavier now.
---
There was noise down the hall-distant voices, people moving closer.
But neither of you moved.
Not yet.
"You should be celebrating," she said after a moment.
"You should too."
"I did," she said. "A little."
You tilted your head. "A little?"
She shrugged. "It's... a lot."
You nodded slowly.
Yeah.
You got that.
You both stood there, the moment stretching just a little too long.
Too quiet.
Too close.
Your gaze dropped-to her lips-
Just for a second.
Then back up.
Her eyes flickered.
She noticed.
Of course she did.
The air shifted.
Changed.
Something unspoken pressing between you.
This-
This was the line.
And you were standing right on it.
"...We shouldn't," she said quietly.
You nodded.
"Yeah."
Neither of you moved.
Not right away.
Your hand twitched slightly at your side.
Her breath caught-just barely.
And for a second-
It felt like everything was about to tip.
Like one more step-
One wrong move-
And everything would change.
---
Then the noise got louder.
Voices turning the corner.
Reality crashing back in.
Alysa stepped back first.
Just a little.
But it was enough.
The moment snapped.
"You should go," she said softly.
You swallowed, nodding. "Yeah."
This time, you moved.
You took a step back.
Then another.
Your fingers brushed the edge of your medal, grounding you.
This was what mattered.
This.
Not-
This.
"...Good job," she said again.
You met her eyes one last time.
"Yeah," you said. "You too."
And then you turned.
Walking away before you could stop yourself.
Before you could change your mind.
---
Behind you, Alysa stayed where she was.
Watching.
Until you disappeared around the corner.
She let out a slow breath, pressing her lips together.
"That was close," she murmured.
Too close.
---
Later that night, surrounded by your team, music blasting, laughter echoing-
You still felt it.
That moment.
That almost.
And across the Village, sitting alone with a gold medal resting in her hands-
That was the rule you set for yourself the second you woke up.
No more detours. No more "accidental" run-ins. No more slipping into arenas you didn't belong in or finding reasons to walk past places she might be.
You had a game to win.
A gold medal on the line.
You didn't have time for distractions-especially not one that came with quiet smiles and conversations that lingered longer than they should.
So when you stepped into the Olympic Village café later that afternoon, it was purely for coffee.
Nothing else.
Absolutely nothing else.
You ordered quickly, barely glancing around as you waited, scrolling through your phone, pretending you weren't even thinking about-
"Still not wearing protective gear, I see."
You froze.
Slowly, you looked up.
And there she was.
Alysa Liu stood a few feet away, dressed casually this time-hoodie, leggings, hair pulled back. No spotlight. No ice. Just her.
And somehow, that felt more dangerous.
You let out a quiet breath, shaking your head slightly. "You're starting to make a habit of sneaking up on me."
Her lips curved faintly. "Pretty sure you just have bad awareness."
"Occupational hazard," you shot back, echoing your first conversation.
That got a small smile out of her.
You grabbed your coffee when your name was called, stepping aside so you weren't blocking the counter. She followed without asking, leaning casually against the wall next to you.
For a second, neither of you spoke.
It wasn't uncomfortable.
But it wasn't easy, either.
There was something sitting between you now-something heavier than before. Not awkwardness... just awareness.
Of each other.
Of timing.
Of everything you probably shouldn't be doing.
"So," you said, blowing lightly on your coffee. "No training today?"
"Light day," she said. "Recovery."
You nodded. "Same."
Another pause.
You glanced at her. She was already looking at you.
You both looked away at the same time.
"...This is weird," you muttered.
She let out a quiet laugh. "A little."
"More than a little."
That earned you a sideways glance. "You're the one who came over here."
"You spoke first," you pointed out.
"Only because you looked like you were about to walk into a wall."
You huffed a laugh. "I was not."
"Sure."
The corner of her mouth lifted again, and for a second, it felt like before-easy, light, simple.
Then it settled again.
You shifted your weight, leaning back against the wall beside her. Close, but not too close.
"You did really well," you said, quieter this time. "Yesterday."
Her expression softened, just slightly. "You already said that."
"Yeah," you said. "I meant it."
"I know."
The way she said it-calm, certain-made your chest tighten in a way you didn't want to think about too much.
You took a sip of your coffee, buying yourself a second.
"When do you find out?" you asked.
"Soon," she said. "Scores, placements... all of it."
You nodded slowly. "You nervous?"
She hesitated this time.
"Yeah," she admitted. "A little."
"A little?" you echoed.
She glanced at you. "Okay. A lot."
You smiled faintly. "That sounds more realistic."
"What about you?" she asked. "Still confident you're winning?"
You tilted your head. "You doubting me now?"
"I'm evaluating your chances," she said, tone light but eyes sharp.
You leaned a little closer, lowering your voice just slightly. "We're winning."
For a second, she didn't respond.
Her gaze held yours-steady, searching.
Then she nodded once. "Good."
It wasn't teasing this time.
It sounded like she meant it.
Like she wanted you to.
And that-
That was new.
You straightened slightly, putting a little space back between you.
Because that line?
You could feel it.
And you were getting too close to crossing it.
---
A group of athletes walked past, loud and laughing, breaking the moment.
Alysa glanced over, then back at you.
"You should probably get back to your team," she said.
"Yeah," you agreed.
Neither of you moved.
Again.
It was becoming a pattern.
One you were starting to notice.
One you weren't sure how to stop.
"...You keep showing up," she said after a second.
You frowned slightly. "What?"
"Everywhere," she clarified. "Hallway. Dining hall. My competition."
You raised an eyebrow. "Are you accusing me of something?"
"I'm observing," she said.
You took a step back, holding your hands up slightly. "For the record, this one was not on purpose."
She studied you for a second.
Then-quietly-
"Okay."
You blinked.
"...Okay?"
"I believe you," she said.
You weren't sure why that mattered.
But it did.
More than it should have.
You nodded once, glancing down at your coffee before looking back up. "Good."
Another pause.
Then-
"I should go," she said.
"Yeah," you replied.
Neither of you moved.
Again.
It was almost frustrating now.
Like there was something just out of reach, something neither of you was willing to say.
Something you both felt.
But wouldn't touch.
Finally, she pushed off the wall.
"I'll... see you around," she said.
It wasn't a question.
You swallowed lightly, nodding. "Yeah. Around."
She turned, walking away.
You watched her go-
Just for a second.
Then forced yourself to look away, exhaling slowly.
This was fine.
This was manageable.
This was-
Dangerous.
---
Later that night, during team film review, you missed three plays in a row.
"Focus," your coach snapped.
You straightened immediately. "Yeah. Sorry."
Your teammates exchanged looks, but no one said anything.
You leaned forward, elbows on your knees, forcing your attention back to the screen.
Hockey.
That's what mattered.
That's what you were here for.
Not quiet conversations in cafés.
Not lingering glances.
Not-
Her.
---
Across the Village, Alysa sat cross-legged on her bed, her phone lighting up again with updates, predictions, expectations.
She stared at the screen for a long moment.
Then locked it.
Set it face down.
Her mind wasn't on scores.
Or placements.
Or even the medal she might have just secured.
It was somewhere else.
In a café.
Leaning against a wall.
Too close.
Not close enough.
She let out a quiet breath, running a hand through her hair.
Even from the stands, you could feel the intensity of it-the sharp brightness reflecting off the ice, the quiet hum of anticipation from the crowd, the kind of silence that only existed right before something big happened.
You weren't supposed to be here.
Technically.
Your team had optional recovery after practice, and most of them had gone back to the Village. Rest, ice baths, film review-responsible things.
Instead, you sat a few rows up in the figure skating arena, a hoodie pulled over your head, trying (and failing) to blend in.
Your eyes were locked on the ice.
On her.
Alysa Liu stood at center ice, her posture calm, composed, like the entire world wasn't watching her. Like there weren't judges ready to pick apart every movement, every landing, every second.
Like she wasn't carrying expectations heavier than anything you'd ever had to hold.
You leaned forward slightly, elbows on your knees.
It was different, watching it live.
On TV, it looked effortless. Clean. Controlled.
Here-
You could see the edges of it.
The sharp inhale before she started. The slight tension in her shoulders. The way her fingers curled just a little too tight at her sides before the music began.
And then-
She moved.
Everything else disappeared.
You'd spent your whole life on the ice, but this... this was something else.
Where hockey was force and speed and impact, this was precision. Every movement intentional. Every step placed exactly where it needed to be.
She jumped-
And for a split second, she wasn't touching the ice at all.
Your breath caught.
She landed clean.
The crowd reacted, a wave of sound building, but you barely heard it. You were too focused on the way she kept going, like that moment hadn't just been impossible.
Like she did things like that every day.
Maybe she did.
By the time her program ended, the arena erupted.
You pushed back in your seat, exhaling a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding.
"...Damn," you muttered under your breath.
It felt inadequate.
But it was all you had.
---
Backstage was chaos.
You weren't supposed to be here either.
Definitely not here.
Athletes, coaches, media-it was packed, people moving in every direction, voices overlapping, cameras flashing. You kept your head down, slipping through the crowd, not entirely sure what your plan was.
Actually-
That was a lie.
You knew exactly what you were doing.
You just weren't sure why.
You turned a corner-
And there she was.
Alysa stood near the wall, her skates off now, jacket zipped up, a towel draped around her neck. A coach was talking to her, gesturing animatedly, but she looked... distant.
Like she wasn't fully there.
Like she was somewhere between the performance and whatever came next.
You hesitated.
This was a bad idea.
A really bad idea.
Then her coach stepped away, pulled into another conversation.
And before you could overthink it-
You walked over.
"Hey."
She turned.
For a second, there was that same flicker of surprise.
Then something softer replaced it.
"You came," she said.
It wasn't a question.
You shrugged lightly. "Had to see what all the hype was about."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but there was a hint of amusement there. "And?"
You let out a small breath, shaking your head.
"I think 'insane' still applies."
That got you a smile.
A real one.
"Good," she said quietly.
There was a pause.
Not awkward.
Just... full.
You shifted your weight slightly, glancing around at the chaos before looking back at her. "How do you feel?"
She exhaled slowly, looking down at her hands for a second before answering.
"...Like I can finally breathe."
You nodded.
Yeah.
You understood that.
"Pretty sure that's how I'm gonna feel after our final game," you said.
She glanced back up at you. "If you win."
You smirked. "When we win."
That earned you a small, approving look.
"Confident," she said.
"Terrified," you corrected.
Her lips curved slightly. "Same."
Another beat passed between you.
Closer this time.
Quieter.
You weren't sure who moved first.
Maybe neither of you did.
Maybe the space just... disappeared.
"You shouldn't be back here," she said softly.
"You weren't supposed to notice me in the stands," you countered.
"I didn't," she said. "But I figured you would be."
That caught you off guard.
"Yeah?"
She shrugged lightly. "You don't seem like the type to miss something important."
Something about the way she said it-
Like she meant more than just the performance-
Made your chest tighten.
"Guess you don't either," you said.
Her gaze held yours for a second longer than necessary.
Then-
Voices approached.
Louder. Closer.
Reality, again.
Alysa stepped back slightly, the moment shifting.
"Media's about to start," she said.
You nodded, taking a small step back yourself. "Yeah. I should go."
Neither of you moved.
Again.
There was always that moment.
That hesitation.
Like leaving was the hardest part.
"...You were really good," you said, quieter this time.
Her expression softened.
"Thank you."
You nodded once.
Then forced yourself to turn.
This time, you didn't look back right away.
You made it a few steps.
Five.
Six.
Seven-
"Hey."
You stopped.
Turned.
She was still there, watching you.
"Good luck," she said.
It was the same words as before.
But it felt different now.
Heavier.
Like they meant more.
You swallowed slightly, then nodded.
"Yeah," you said. "You too."
And then you walked away.
For real this time.
---
Later that night, back in your room, you lay awake staring at the ceiling.
Your body was exhausted.
Your mind wasn't.
You replayed it all-the performance, the conversation, the way she'd looked at you when she said you came.
You weren't supposed to care like this.
Not now.
Not with everything on the line.
You turned onto your side, exhaling slowly.
"...This is a bad idea," you muttered.
Across the Village, Alysa sat on the edge of her bed, medal-less-for now-but closer than ever.
Her phone buzzed with notifications. Messages. Expectations.
She ignored all of them.
Instead, she found herself thinking about a hockey player in the stands.
About the way you'd looked at her-
Not like a headline.
Not like a score.
Just...
Her.
She let out a quiet breath, lying back against her pillow.
"Focus," she whispered.
But the word felt weaker now.
Because for the first time since arriving at the Olympics-
Your alarm blared at 6:00 a.m., dragging you out of a sleep that felt like it lasted five minutes instead of five hours. You groaned, rolling over and slapping your phone until the noise stopped.
For a moment, you just lay there, staring at the ceiling.
Then it hit you.
Her.
The hallway. The collision. The way she'd smiled-small, quick, like it wasn't something she gave out easily.
You let out a quiet breath, dragging a hand down your face.
Focus.
You had practice. A gold medal game in a matter of days. A team counting on you.
There wasn't time to get distracted by a figure skater you'd met for all of five minutes.
Even if she was Alysa Liu.
You sat up, shaking your head like that would knock the thought loose, and swung your legs off the bed.
Right. Hockey. Game plan. That's what mattered.
---
The rink was freezing, as always.
The familiar scrape of blades against ice, the sharp whistle of your coach, the echo of pucks hitting boards-it all grounded you immediately. This was your world. Fast, loud, relentless.
No room for overthinking.
"Pick it up!" your coach shouted from the sidelines.
You pushed harder, skating drills with your team, running plays until your legs burned and your lungs begged for a break. By the time practice ended, sweat clung to your skin despite the cold.
"Good work," one of your teammates said, bumping your shoulder as you skated off.
"Yeah," you muttered, pulling off your helmet.
You should've felt focused.
Instead, your mind drifted-uninvited-back to a quiet hallway and a pair of sharp, observant eyes.
Annoying.
---
By the time you made it to the dining hall, the Village was fully awake.
Athletes filled the space-different languages, different uniforms, all blending into one loud, chaotic atmosphere. You grabbed a tray, moving through the line without really paying attention to what you were putting on it.
Food. Fuel. That's all it was.
You scanned the room, looking for your teammates-
And froze.
Because across the room, seated at a smaller table off to the side, was her.
Alysa.
She was alone, a tray in front of her, absentmindedly stirring something with her fork while scrolling through her phone. She looked... normal. Relaxed, almost.
Not like the athlete the entire world was watching.
Just a person.
Your grip tightened slightly on your tray.
You could just walk past.
Find your team. Sit down. Forget about it.
That would be the smart thing to do.
Instead-
You started walking toward her.
Halfway there, your brain caught up with your body.
What are you doing?
Too late now.
You stopped a few feet from her table, clearing your throat lightly.
"Hey."
She looked up.
There was a flicker of surprise in her eyes-quick, but unmistakable.
Then recognition settled in.
"Oh," she said. "You again."
You huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah. Me again."
Her lips twitched, like she was trying not to smile.
"Didn't expect to run into you without protective gear this time," she added.
You glanced down at yourself. "Yeah, figured I'd give people a break today."
"Appreciated."
There was that dry tone again.
You shifted your weight slightly, holding up your tray. "Mind if I-?"
She gestured to the empty seat across from her. "Go ahead."
You sat down, setting your tray in front of you. For a second, neither of you spoke, the noise of the dining hall filling the space instead.
Up close, it felt different than the hallway.
Less accidental.
More... intentional.
"So," you said after a moment, picking at your food. "Still not sleeping?"
She glanced at you, one eyebrow lifting slightly. "That obvious?"
"You said it last night."
"And you remembered?"
You shrugged, trying to play it off. "I remember things."
She hummed softly, like she didn't fully believe you-but didn't call you out on it either.
"What about you?" she asked. "Get any sleep?"
"Some," you said. "Not enough."
"Same."
A small, shared understanding passed between you.
You leaned back slightly in your chair. "When do you compete again?"
"Soon," she said. "Final skate."
There was a subtle shift in her posture when she said it-like the weight of it settled in her shoulders even if she didn't show it outright.
"That's... a lot," you said.
She let out a small breath. "It's the Olympics. It's always a lot."
"Fair."
You hesitated, then added, "You don't seem nervous."
She looked at you for a second-really looked this time.
"I am," she said simply. "I just don't let it show."
You nodded slowly.
Yeah. You got that.
"Gold medal game's coming up for you too," she said, tilting her head slightly. "You nervous?"
You let out a quiet laugh. "Terrified."
That surprised her.
"You don't seem like it."
"Same trick as you, I guess."
That earned you a real smile this time.
Not quick. Not fleeting.
It lingered.
And it hit you harder than it should've.
For a second, everything else-the noise, the people, the pressure-faded into the background.
It was just this.
Just the two of you.
Then someone across the room called your name.
You blinked, the moment breaking as you glanced over to see your teammates waving you down.
Right.
Reality.
You looked back at Alysa, rubbing the back of your neck slightly. "I should probably-"
"Yeah," she said, nodding.
Neither of you moved right away.
Again.
That same pause.
That same feeling like something was supposed to happen.
You stood up first, grabbing your tray.
"Try not to run into anyone today," she said.
You smirked. "No promises."
Her eyes flickered with amusement.
You took a step back, then hesitated.
"...Good luck," you said.
It came out quieter than you expected.
Her expression softened-just slightly.
"You too."
You nodded once, then turned, heading toward your team.
But this time, when you walked away-
You knew it wasn't just a coincidence anymore.
---
Alysa watched you go.
Again.
She tapped her fork lightly against her tray, her food long forgotten.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Not here. Not now.
She had a routine to focus on. A performance that had to be perfect. No distractions.
And yet-
She found herself replaying the conversation in her head.
The way you admitted you were nervous.
The way you looked at her like she was more than just what she did on the ice.
Even in the early hours of the morning, it buzzed with quiet energy-athletes moving between buildings, staff whispering into radios, the distant hum of celebration still lingering from another country's victory. It was supposed to feel magical.
To you, it just felt exhausting.
Your duffel bag hung heavy off your shoulder as you made your way down the long corridor, still half in your gear, hair damp from a late-night skate. Practice had run longer than expected, your coach pushing the team harder now that the gold medal game was within reach.
Everything was within reach.
And that was the problem.
You exhaled slowly, rolling your neck as you turned a corner, already thinking about getting back to your room, showering, maybe stealing a few hours of sleep before morning training-
-and then you slammed straight into someone.
Hard.
"Whoa-!"
Your bag slipped off your shoulder as you stumbled back, instinctively reaching out to steady the other person before they hit the ground.
"I'm so-"
You stopped.
Because the person you'd just nearly taken out wasn't just anyone.
It was Alysa Liu.
Up close, she looked smaller than she did on TV, but somehow more... real. Her hair was pulled back messily, a jacket thrown over her training clothes, and there was a kind of calm focus in her eyes that you recognized instantly-the look of someone who carried the weight of expectation like it was second nature.
For a second, neither of you said anything.
Then she blinked.
"...You just checked me harder than anyone on the ice," she said.
You let out a short, surprised laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. "Occupational hazard."
Her gaze dropped briefly to your gear, then back up to your face, a hint of amusement tugging at her lips. "Hockey?"
"Yeah," you said. "Sorry. I wasn't looking."
"Clearly."
There was no bite in it-just dry humor.
You huffed a quiet laugh, bending down to grab your bag. "You okay?"
"I've survived worse," she said easily. "Ice is less forgiving than you."
You straightened, slinging the bag back over your shoulder. "Good to know I'm not your biggest threat."
She tilted her head slightly, studying you in a way that made you suddenly very aware of how close you were standing.
"You might be," she said. "You came out of nowhere."
"Pretty sure you did," you shot back.
A small smile broke across her face then-quick, but real.
And something in your chest shifted.
You'd seen her skate. Everyone had. She was precise, untouchable, almost unreal out there on the ice. But this version of her? Standing in a quiet hallway, trading sarcastic remarks like she didn't have the entire world watching her?
This felt different.
"...So," you said after a second, gesturing vaguely down the hall. "Late practice?"
She nodded. "Couldn't sleep."
"Same."
Another pause settled between you-not awkward, just... unfamiliar.
You weren't used to this.
You were used to your team, to noise, to constant motion. Conversations that overlapped, laughter that echoed through locker rooms. This quiet, one-on-one moment felt strangely intense in comparison.
Alysa shifted her weight slightly, crossing her arms loosely. "Gold medal game soon, right?"
You raised an eyebrow. "You follow hockey?"
She shrugged. "It's the Olympics. Kind of hard not to."
"Fair."
"And you?" she added. "You watch figure skating?"
You hesitated for half a second.
"...I watched your program," you admitted.
Her expression changed-just slightly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." You let out a small breath. "It was... kind of insane."
"Kind of?" she teased.
You smirked. "Okay, fine. It was amazing."
For a moment, she didn't say anything.
Then she looked down, almost shy, before glancing back up at you. "Thanks."
The word was quiet-but it landed.
And suddenly, this didn't feel like a random hallway encounter anymore.
It felt like something else.
Something you didn't quite have a name for yet.
You shifted your grip on your bag, suddenly aware that you'd been standing here longer than you meant to. "I should probably-uh-let you get back to whatever you were doing."
"Right," she said, though she didn't move immediately.
Neither did you.
There was a beat-one of those strange, suspended moments where it felt like something was supposed to happen, but neither of you knew what.
Then, finally, she stepped back slightly.
"Try not to take out any more Olympians," she said.
You grinned. "No promises."
That earned you another small smile.
And then she turned, heading down the hallway in the opposite direction.
You watched her go for a second longer than you should have.
Then you shook your head, adjusting your bag and continuing toward your room.
It wasn't until you were halfway there that it hit you.
You didn't even know her like that.
Didn't know anything about her beyond what everyone else knew.
And yet-
That moment stuck.
---
Across the Village, Alysa slowed her steps slightly, glancing back over her shoulder.
The hallway was empty now.
But she could still hear your laugh in her head.
Feel the impact of the collision.
The unexpected ease of talking to you.
She exhaled softly, shaking her head to herself.
"Focus," she murmured.
She had a competition to win.
A gold medal to defend.
No room for distractions.
And definitely no room for a hockey player who crashed into her like a storm and smiled like it didn't mean anything.
