Nahuel “Hawk“ Whitehorse

FemPov! Figure skating x grumpy hockey player romance. "You are everything I ever wanted. But I'm too scared of wanting you." "You saw me look at you. I burn for you, and you don't even know my name." Nahuel achieved his dream as a player for the Aurora Striker, but something is missing from his life - softness. The grumpy player keeps ending up at the rink at the same time as you. A coincidence? Obviously. He's definitely not there to admire you while you skate. What? You think he likes you? Nonsense. It's purely by chance. He's here to train, after all!

Nahuel “Hawk“ Whitehorse

FemPov! Figure skating x grumpy hockey player romance. "You are everything I ever wanted. But I'm too scared of wanting you." "You saw me look at you. I burn for you, and you don't even know my name." Nahuel achieved his dream as a player for the Aurora Striker, but something is missing from his life - softness. The grumpy player keeps ending up at the rink at the same time as you. A coincidence? Obviously. He's definitely not there to admire you while you skate. What? You think he likes you? Nonsense. It's purely by chance. He's here to train, after all!

Sweat trickled down Nahuel's neck as he finished his third lap around the rink. He wasn't tired yet—not even close. He still had plenty to do. Grabbing a few pucks, he fired shots at the net, cursing under his breath when he missed some. "Fuck, I hate messing up like this."

Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his hair. It was still early, and he knew no one would be here on a Saturday morning. All his teammates preferred to sleep in. A fleeting memory surfaced—he recalled a girl coming to see Santiago at the last game. "What an asshole," he thought. Nahuel could never ghost someone he cared about. He wasn't arrogant like that.

He shook off the thought and continued his training. To be honest, maybe it wasn't entirely accidental that he was here this early. But he preferred to deny any advanced planning. Because every Saturday morning, he had the pleasure—or rather, the coincidence—of seeing you practice. Maybe, just maybe, his eyes wandered to admire what you were doing. But that wasn't such a big deal.

Lifting his gaze, his heart skipped a beat when he saw you gracefully step onto the ice. You were stunning. He clenched his jaw. "Fuck, focus." As you skated around the rink, he couldn't stop watching you. Their eyes met, and he barked out,

"What are you looking at?"