Maya POV

Vancouver greeted them with rain.

Not the dramatic kind that arrived with thunder and lightning, but the steady, relentless drizzle that seemed woven into the city itself. By the time Maya stepped out of the hotel the following morning, the sidewalks glistened beneath gray skies and the air carried the faint scent of the ocean. It was beautiful in a quiet sort of way, though most of the Titans players appeared far more interested in reaching the arena without getting wet.

The documentary crew, however, looked delighted.

For them, rain was atmosphere.

For everyone else, it was simply inconvenient.

Maya adjusted the strap of her bag and followed the group toward the team bus, already mentally reviewing the day's schedule. Practice would take place first, followed by media availability, then an evening game against the Vancouver Wolves. On paper it looked straightforward. In reality, nothing involving professional sports was ever straightforward.

By the time they arrived at the arena, the building was already buzzing with activity. Staff members hurried through hallways carrying equipment while local media gathered near the press areas. Vancouver fans had a reputation for passion, and game days always carried a different kind of energy. Everything felt louder. Faster. More intense.

Maya was making her way toward the media room when a familiar voice stopped her.

"Well, if it isn't Toronto's favorite journalist."

She turned instinctively.

The man approaching looked as though he belonged on a billboard.

Tall.

Athletic.

Blond hair.

Green eyes.

The sort of effortless confidence that made strangers immediately comfortable around him.

Ethan Brooks.

Captain of the Vancouver Wolves.

Maya recognized him instantly.

Even people who didn't follow hockey knew who Ethan Brooks was. Unlike Noah, who seemed to treat publicity like a necessary burden, Ethan thrived in it. He was charming during interviews, comfortable in front of cameras, and somehow managed to make every room feel lighter simply by walking into it.

His smile widened when he noticed her expression.

"That's disappointing."

Maya raised an eyebrow.

"What is?"

"I was hoping for at least a little excitement."

A laugh escaped her before she could stop it.

"I know who you are."

"Good. Saves me the awkward introduction."

The exchange felt surprisingly easy.

That was the first thing Maya noticed about Ethan. Conversation seemed effortless around him. There was no tension. No careful evaluation of every word. No sense that either person was trying to win an invisible battle.

The complete opposite of Noah Hayes.

Ethan extended a hand.

"Officially, though, Ethan."

"Maya."

"I know."

The grin that followed carried just enough confidence to be dangerous.

Maya shook her head.

"Hockey players really do think they're charming, don't they?"

"Only the attractive ones."

That earned another laugh.

Unfortunately, Ethan looked entirely too pleased with himself afterward.

Before the conversation could continue, a team staff member called his name from across the hallway. Ethan glanced over his shoulder before returning his attention to Maya.

"I have to go pretend to be responsible."

"Sounds difficult."

"It's exhausting."

The mock seriousness in his voice made her smile again.

As he started walking away, he paused.

"We're doing media availability after practice. Try not to ask anything that gets me fined."

"I make no promises."

"That's exactly what Noah said about you."

The comment caught her off guard.

"Ethan."

He winked.

Then disappeared down the corridor.

Maya stood there for several seconds after he left.

Not because the interaction was significant.

Because it had been easy.

Comfortable.

Natural.

The kind of conversation she rarely had with professional athletes.

Most players either distrusted reporters or performed for them. Ethan had done neither.

The thought lingered as she continued toward the practice rink.

When she arrived, players were already beginning warm-up drills. Coaches shouted instructions while skates carved sharp patterns across the ice. Maya settled into her usual spot along the boards and opened her notebook.

A few minutes later, she became aware of someone standing beside her.

She didn't need to look up to know who it was.

"No interviews available over there?"

Noah's voice carried a faint trace of amusement.

Maya smiled without lifting her eyes from her notes.

"Good morning to you too."

Noah leaned against the railing.

His gaze followed hers onto the ice before he spoke again.

"I saw you talking to Ethan."

The statement sounded casual.

Almost too casual.

Maya finally looked up.

"And?"

"No reason."

The answer came too quickly.

Maya narrowed her eyes slightly.

For a brief moment, something unreadable flickered across Noah's expression before disappearing.

The silence stretched.

Then realization struck.

Slowly.

Unexpectedly.

The thought was so ridiculous that she nearly laughed.

"You were watching?"

One dark eyebrow lifted.

"I wasn't watching."

"You literally just brought it up."

"I happened to notice."

"That's called watching."

Noah looked unimpressed.

Maya looked delighted.

For the first time since meeting him, she had discovered something capable of making the endlessly composed Noah Hayes uncomfortable.

The discovery was far too entertaining to ignore.

"Interesting."

"It's not."

"I think it is."

"No, you think annoying me is fun."

She smiled.

"Maybe a little."

A surprisingly familiar expression crossed Noah's face.

Resignation.

As though he had already accepted that arguing would accomplish nothing.

The realization made something warm settle unexpectedly in Maya's chest.

Not attraction.

Not yet.

Just the strange comfort that came from recognizing a person's habits.

And somehow that felt far more dangerous.

Because for the first time, their conversations were starting to feel less like confrontations and more like something neither of them had planned for.

The interaction should have been insignificant.

That was what Maya told herself for the rest of practice.

Professional athletes noticed things. They noticed opponents, reporters, coaches, fans, and occasionally each other. Noah mentioning Ethan didn't automatically mean anything. It certainly didn't mean he cared who she spoke to.

Unfortunately, the memory of his expression kept returning anyway.

Not because it had been dramatic.

Because it had been subtle.

A brief tightening of his jaw.

A hesitation before answering.

The kind of reaction people displayed when they were trying very hard not to reveal one.

By the time practice ended, Maya was still annoyed that she found the whole thing amusing.

The media session began shortly afterward. Reporters gathered near the designated interview area while players rotated through a series of questions about upcoming games, team performance, and championship expectations. Maya spent most of the session working as usual, collecting quotes and taking notes. The only unusual part was Ethan Brooks.

Or more specifically, Ethan Brooks deciding he had apparently adopted her as a source of entertainment.

The moment he spotted her in the crowd, his grin appeared.

It was the grin of a man who enjoyed causing trouble.

"Kapoor."

Several reporters turned.

Maya immediately regretted acknowledging him.

"Ethan."

"You remembered me."

"You introduced yourself three hours ago."

"Still counts."

The surrounding reporters laughed.

Ethan looked pleased with himself.

Maya was beginning to understand why opposing teams occasionally wanted to punch him.

The interview continued for several minutes before eventually drifting away from hockey entirely. Ethan answered every question with effortless confidence, moving between serious topics and jokes so smoothly that it barely seemed intentional. Watching him work, Maya finally understood why fans adored him.

He made everything look easy.

The cameras loved him.

The reporters loved him.

The audience loved him.

He possessed the rare ability to make people feel as though they were already friends.

Noah, on the other hand, made people work for every inch.

The contrast couldn't have been more obvious.

Unfortunately, someone else seemed to notice it too.

Near the opposite side of the room, Noah had just finished an interview.

His gaze drifted briefly toward Ethan.

Then toward Maya.

Then away again.

The entire moment lasted less than a second.

Yet somehow she caught it.

And somehow she smiled.

The expression immediately disappeared when Noah noticed.

Which only made her want to laugh more.

Later that evening, the arena transformed.

Practice facilities became battlegrounds.

Empty seats became a sea of fans.

The quiet atmosphere of the morning vanished beneath bright lights, roaring crowds, and the electric anticipation that existed before every major game.

Maya loved this part.

She always had.

No matter how many years she spent covering sports, there was something addictive about game nights. Thousands of people gathering in one place because they collectively believed something important was about to happen.

The energy was impossible to fake.

As warm-ups began, Maya moved through the lower concourse gathering observations for her article. The documentary crew followed closely behind, filming player preparations and fan interactions whenever possible.

That was how she accidentally ended up near the tunnel connecting both locker rooms.

She was reviewing notes when a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Trying to uncover state secrets?"

Maya looked up.

Ethan.

Again.

The Wolves captain appeared freshly dressed for the game, carrying his stick over one shoulder as though it weighed nothing.

"You keep appearing."

"I could say the same thing."

"I work here."

"So do I."

The logic was annoyingly reasonable.

Ethan leaned casually against the wall beside her.

For a few moments they watched arena staff move through the corridor.

Then his expression softened slightly.

"Serious question."

Maya immediately became suspicious.

"That sounds dangerous."

"It usually is."

She waited.

Ethan smiled.

"Why do you dislike Noah Hayes so much?"

The question caught her completely off guard.

For a moment she simply stared.

Then she laughed.

"I don't dislike him."

"That's a lie."

"It is not."

"It absolutely is."

The confidence in his voice was infuriating.

Maya folded her arms.

"What makes you think I dislike him?"

Ethan looked genuinely surprised.

"Because every interview sounds like you're trying to challenge him to a duel."

A laugh escaped her before she could stop it.

Unfortunately, Ethan looked entirely too pleased about that.

The conversation continued for several minutes, drifting from Noah to journalism to travel schedules and eventually hockey itself. The ease between them remained striking. There were no verbal battles. No carefully disguised challenges. No constant need to prove a point.

Everything simply flowed.

It was comfortable.

Easy.

Safe.

The exact opposite of every interaction she had with Noah Hayes.

And yet, as Ethan spoke, Maya found herself thinking about Noah anyway.

Which made absolutely no sense.

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted her thoughts.

Instinctively she glanced toward the tunnel entrance.

Noah had just emerged from the locker room.

For a brief moment his gaze landed on them.

On Ethan.

On Maya.

The expression that crossed his face was impossible to read.

Then it disappeared.

Professional.

Controlled.

Gone before she could fully identify it.

Noah continued walking without stopping.

Ethan watched him leave before looking back at her.

A slow smile appeared.

The kind of smile that suggested he'd noticed something interesting.

"What?"

Maya asked immediately.

"Nothing."

The answer was suspiciously familiar.

She narrowed her eyes.

"Ethan."

His grin widened.

"I think this season is going to be very entertaining."

Before she could demand an explanation, he pushed away from the wall and headed toward the ice.

Leaving Maya standing alone with an uncomfortable realization.

For the first time since arriving in Vancouver, she wasn't entirely sure the tension between herself and Noah still came from dislike.

And that possibility felt far more dangerous than either of them realized.

Noah POV

Noah had spent years mastering control.

Control over his emotions. Control over his public image. Control over every word that left his mouth. In professional hockey, control wasn't simply useful—it was necessary. One careless comment could become a headline. One emotional reaction could dominate sports networks for days. Over time, discipline became instinct. It became armor.

Which was why he found himself unusually irritated after seeing Maya Kapoor standing beside Ethan Brooks.

The reaction made no sense.

Ethan was a friend.

Not a close friend, but close enough.

They'd played against each other for years. Shared All-Star weekends. Charity events. International tournaments. Noah respected him. Most people did.

Ethan was talented, respected, and frustratingly likable.

There was absolutely no reason for Noah to care who Ethan spoke to.

Yet as he sat in the locker room preparing for the game, the image kept replaying in his mind.

Maya laughing.

Ethan smiling.

The effortless ease between them.

Noah hated how much he noticed it.

Across the room, Liam Foster was taping his stick when he suddenly glanced up.

The look lasted barely a second.

Unfortunately, that was all it took.

"You look annoyed."

Noah didn't bother looking up from his equipment.

"I'm not."

Liam immediately laughed.

The sound was not encouraging.

"That's exactly what someone who's annoyed says."

"I'm preparing for a game."

"You're staring at the same skate lace for three minutes."

Noah glanced down.

The observation was annoyingly accurate.

Liam shook his head before returning to his own equipment.

For a moment Noah thought the conversation was over.

Then Liam spoke again.

"You know Ethan flirts with literally everyone, right?"

Noah froze.

Only for a fraction of a second.

A fraction that Liam unfortunately noticed.

The grin that followed belonged to a man who had just solved a puzzle.

"Oh."

Noah already regretted existing.

"Oh what?"

"Nothing."

"Liam."

"Interesting."

The defenseman wisely stood and walked away before Noah could throw something at him.

The rest of the locker room remained blissfully unaware.

Noah wished he could say the same.

By the time warmups began, the arena had transformed into chaos. Thousands of fans filled the stands while music thundered through the building. Camera flashes illuminated sections of the crowd. The atmosphere felt electric.

Normally, Noah loved it.

Tonight his concentration felt slightly off.

Not enough to affect his performance.

Just enough to irritate him.

As players stepped onto the ice, his eyes automatically scanned the lower sections surrounding the rink.

The habit was unconscious.

Years of experience.

Checking exits.

Checking staff.

Checking media locations.

Checking everything.

Unfortunately, his gaze found Maya almost immediately.

She stood near the boards speaking with another reporter while holding her notebook against her chest. A credential hung around her neck. Her attention remained focused on her conversation.

Noah should have looked away.

Instead, he watched for a second too long.

Then Maya glanced up.

Their eyes met.

Instantly.

The connection lasted only a moment before both looked elsewhere.

Yet something strange settled in Noah's chest.

Not discomfort.

Not irritation.

Something far more dangerous.

Familiarity.

The realization followed him onto the ice.

For weeks Maya had been part of his routine.

Press conferences.

Practices.

Travel.

Interviews.

Questions.

Arguments.

She had slowly become a constant presence.

And Noah was beginning to realize he noticed her absence as much as her presence.

That thought alone should have been enough to concern him.

The game started before he could examine it further.

For the next two hours, hockey reclaimed his attention.

The world narrowed to movement, strategy, and instinct. Everything else disappeared beneath the rhythm of competition. Every shift demanded complete focus. Every possession mattered.

This was the version of himself Noah understood best.

The captain.

The player.

The competitor.

The person who knew exactly what he was supposed to do.

The game remained close through two periods.

Fast.

Physical.

Intense.

Exactly the kind of matchup fans loved.

Late in the third period, tied 3-3, Noah intercepted a pass near center ice and accelerated toward the offensive zone. The arena erupted immediately. Defenders closed in from both sides while teammates rushed forward in support.

Everything happened quickly.

The way it always did.

A pass.

A deflection.

A rebound.

Then instinct.

Noah reacted before thinking.

The puck crossed the line.

The goal horn exploded throughout the arena.

For several seconds the entire building seemed to shake.

Teammates swarmed him instantly.

Fans roared.

Cameras flashed.

The familiar celebration unfolded around him.

Another game-winning goal.

Another headline.

Another moment destined for highlight reels.

Yet as Noah skated toward the bench, breathing heavily beneath arena lights, his gaze drifted toward the media section.

And somehow found Maya.

She was already writing.

Focused.

Determined.

Completely absorbed in her work.

The sight should have been ordinary.

Instead, Noah felt himself smile.

Not because of the goal.

Not because of the victory.

But because for reasons he couldn't quite explain, he suddenly wanted to know what she was writing about him.

And that realization was far more dangerous than anything Ethan Brooks could ever be.