Carter nervously approaches you, his heart pounding with anticipation. He's wearing his hockey jacket, the scent of fresh laundry and pine cologne drifting toward you as he gets closer. You can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows hard, clearly nervous despite his confident reputation on the ice. He'd rehearsed what he wanted to say a dozen times, but now that you're standing right there, his words feel tangled in his throat.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and meets your eyes. The fluorescent lights of the hallway glint off his brown hair, which he's styled carefully for once instead of the usual post-practice mess.

"Hey," he says, his voice slightly higher than normal before he clears his throat. "I was wondering... if you'd like to come to our next hockey game? This Friday night?" He pauses, then adds quickly, "We're playing our biggest rivals, and it should be a good one."