Chapter 58: Dark Ice

Drew froze.

His hand remained suspended over the small wooden table, his hazel eyes wide with disbelief. A single drop of coffee dripped off the bottom of his mug, splashing onto the white paper napkin between us.

For three long seconds, the quiet hum of indie music playing overhead seemed to be the only sound in the entire café.

Slowly, Drew set his cup down flat on the saucer. He grabbed a fresh napkin, wiping his hands before letting out a quiet, incredulous laugh that held zero warmth.

"How long have you known?" he asked.

"Since Monday morning," I replied calmly, keeping my hands folded over my lap. "When Knox was analyzing State’s game film."

Drew leaned back in his chair, his hazel eyes narrowing as he studied my impassive expression. The easygoing, familiar guy from Oakhaven vanished, replaced by the calculating sharpness of a D1 athletic captain.

"You played me," Drew said softly, a faint, dry smile curving his lips. "You sat here for twenty minutes letting me think I was going to surprise you on game day."

"You tried to play me first, Drew," I reminded him with a sharp tilt of my head. "You drove up here pretending to be a spectator when you’re the star center State built their entire offense around."

Drew let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his brown hair. "I didn’t lie to you, Nora."

"Well, not saying the truth is technically a lie."

"Nora... don’t do this. I know how you’ve always felt about arrogant athletes. I didn’t want you looking at me like I was just another cocky jock when we finally got a chance to catch up."

I looked down at my porcelain mug, a faint, amused smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "You didn’t have to hide who you are, Drew. We reconnected; we’ve spent time together, and you had plenty of opportunities to spill the truth but didn’t."

Drew’s expression softened, a genuine, apologetic look settling over his features as he leaned forward on his forearms. "I’m sorry, Nora. Truly. I should have told you."

"Good luck on Friday, Captain Miller," I said smoothly, slinging my tote bag strap over my shoulder and meeting his gaze with a calm, unbothered smile. "See you around."

Without waiting for his answer, I turned on my heel and walked out into the autumn air.

—

By Thursday morning, the quiet tension on campus exploded into total chaos.

I was walking down the main humanities corridor when Priya caught up to me, grabbing my arm and shoving her phone screen directly into my face.

"Bennett, tell me this is AI generated right now," Priya hissed under her breath.

I looked down at the screen.

It was a crystal-clear photo taken through the glass window of the coffee shop from yesterday afternoon. It showed me sitting across from Drew, leaning forward over the wooden table while Drew stared at me with wide eyes.

Underneath the viral post on Briar Campus Buzz, the bold caption read:

DRAMA ON THE EVE OF THE RIVALRY GAME! Sheridan’s diner girl spotted having secret intimate coffee with State’s Team Captain #11 Drew Miller! Is the captain’s girl switching sides before Friday night?!

My blood ran cold. The comment section was scrolling with over five hundred tags, shares, and furious posts from Briar student fans.

"Fuck," I muttered between gritted teeth.

"Have you talked to Knox?" Priya asked, her eyes darting nervously around the busy hallway. "Has he called you?"

"Priya, you literally just showed me," I said, pulling my phone out of my tote bag. "And my phone was on Do Not Disturb during my lecture."

I tapped the screen, toggling off DND.

The glass lit up instantly with a barrage of notifications—three missed calls and two unread texts from Walking STD.

I tapped the latest text:

Tell me that photo on Briar Buzz is fake.

—

Night fell over Briar University, and a cold wind blew across the empty athletic plaza.

It was past eleven at night when I reached the side entrance of the Briar Ice Arena. The exterior glass doors had automatically locked after hours, but I could hear the THUD of a puck slamming violently against plexiglass echoing through the dark structure.

I pulled out my student ID card which had been activated for athletic facility access when I took the tutoring job, swiping it against the electronic scanner until the magnetic lock clicked open.

The main overhead stadium lights were completely off. Only the dim, amber emergency lights along the upper rafters cast long shadows across the empty ice rink below.

Down on the rink, a single figure was moving at terrifying speed.

It was Knox.

He wasn’t wearing his helmet or his shoulder pads. He was in a shirt and track pants, his damp curls wild as he carved deep grooves into the ice, moving faster than humanly possible in the dim light.

He didn’t use a goalie or a target net. He just swept across the blue line, raised his stick, and unleashed a powerful slap shot that slammed into the wooden end boards with the sound of a gunshot that echoed through the empty seats.

"Sheridan!" I called out, my voice ringing across the cavernous arena.

Knox skidded to a sudden halt near the home bench. Sparks of shaved ice flew five feet into the air.

He didn’t look up at first. He rested both calloused hands on the top of his stick, his chest heaving violently under his soaked shirt as sweat dripped off his jawline onto the ice.

Slowly, Knox turned his head. His dark eyes locked onto me standing near the bench door, burning with an unhinged, lethal rage that made my breath hitch in my throat.

He stepped off the ice through the open bench door, his skate guards clicking sharply against the rubber floor mats as he marched straight toward me.

He didn’t stop until he backed me directly into the cold concrete wall beside the player tunnel exit.

He planted one palm against the concrete beside my head, trapping me in his shadow. The heat radiating off his body was scorching, smelling of cold ice, sweat, and raw, dangerous adrenaline.

"What was that post on Briar Buzz about, Bennett?" Knox asked.

"Is it a crime for me to meet up with an old high school friend?" I countered, meeting his intense stare without flinching.

"You could have informed me," Knox growled softly, his eyes searching mine. "Now the entire campus is running with a rumor that you’re switching sides on the eve of the game."

"That’s their business," I replied. "Unless you’re letting campus gossip get under your skin."

Knox let out a low, rough scoff, leaning an inch closer until his broad frame trapped me against the concrete wall.

The cold arena air disappeared, replaced by his body heat... a mix of cold rain, cedar cologne, and sweat. My heart hammered against my ribs, and a sudden spark of heat shot down my spine.

I hated that he could pull that reaction out of me without even touching me. But I didn’t back down. I didn’t drop my chin or let him see a single crack in my composure.

"I don’t give a damn about campus rumors, Bennett," Knox murmured, his dark eyes burning down into mine. "I just need to know whose side you’re on tomorrow night."

I met his intense stare head-on, keeping my voice steady. "I’m on Briar’s side, Sheridan. And I’m wearing your jersey."

A sharp, dark smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. His gaze lingered on my face for one long beat before he finally stepped back toward the ice.

"Good," Knox growled softly. "Then sit in the second row. And don’t look away for a single second."