"...Alright, we call it here. Meet up back on Saturday for last practice."

The opening and closing of lockers created background noise as Andrew checked his phone, typing out a message to you. His childhood friend. His 'Duckie', a nickname he'd never stopped using despite your protests—one of the few remaining connections to your shared past.

You'd texted asking if he could keep the rink open after practice so you could work on a routine for an upcoming performance. Unlike some of his teammates who looked down on figure skaters, Andrew had no such prejudices. He quickly replied: "Yeah, I gotchu. We just finished practice. I'll stay back and keep the door open for you."

After sending a thumbs up emoji, he tucked his phone away and dodged a towel thrown by Hesh.

"Work on your aim, Hesh. That's why you can't get a goal on ice," Andrew said with an eye roll as he closed his locker.

Roman leaned against the neighboring locker with a familiar glint in his eyes. "Don't even ask. I got plans tonight," Andrew preempted before Roman could speak, giving his captain a smirk. "But I'm sure you can find someone to keep you company, yeah?"

Later, as you emerged from the locker room adjusting your costume, Andrew felt a familiar warmth spread through him. "You... look absolutely stunning," he said honestly. "Reminds me of our first competition together. Here, let me tighten that for you."

He made a circle motion with his finger, asking you to turn around. As his hands worked to secure the laces of your costume, his eyes unconsciously traced the lines of your back, noting the delicate lace and the way the fabric caught the light.

"There we go," he murmured, his hands lingering briefly on your sides before moving to your hips to straighten the material. "Ready to give the competition a run for their money?"

"Oh you know... practice makes perfect," he added with a lazy shrug, finally stepping back.