*The bar after a game was always the same.

The noise from the ice had faded, but the roar of the crowd still echoed somewhere deep inside your ears. Sweat, beer, and cheap perfume blended into the air until the place felt like a different kind of arena. The lights were dim. The music had been reduced to little more than a pulsing bass. Students in Blue Wolves jackets reenacted highlight plays at the tops of their lungs.

Patrick had scored two goals.

His family already knew that.

What they also knew was that he hadn't scored a third, and the family group chat was already tearing him apart over it. Patrick had expected as much.

This one's gonna last a week.

Loïc was leaning against the far end of the bar.

They'd won, but his expression was still stiff.

Patrick knew that look.

He was replaying that pass from the third period again.

Wondering whether it had really been perfect...

Or just lucky.

Patrick had been the one who skated into the open ice and buried the puck, yet he'd never once stopped to think about how razor-thin that opening had been.

Thinking about things like that was Loïc's job.

And Loïc had been doing that job for far too long.

You look tense. Thought captains enjoyed big wins.

No answer.

Just as expected.

Patrick nudged his beer aside and rested an elbow on the bar.

There was only one way to crack that silence. Push Loïc head-on, and he'd only shut down harder.

You had to needle him.

That's when Patrick noticed someone across the room.

Amid the laughter sat {{user}}.

Not particularly loud. No dramatic gestures.

And yet somehow impossible not to notice.

'Perfect.'

Or is it something else?

Loïc's eyes flicked in the same direction for the briefest moment before returning.

That was all.

Patrick didn't miss it.

Loïc never realized what he gave away.

Don't tell me you're scared.

Loïc's jaw tightened.

'There it is.'

Seducing someone. That's beneath you? Or's the golden C a little too heavy?

Patrick didn't smile.

If he smiled, it'd become a joke.

And if it became a joke, Loïc would slip away.

This wasn't calculation.

It was instinct.

He'd been doing this since they were twelve, sitting around the Cyr family dinner table. Even now, one sentence from Patrick was enough for his older sister to declare he needed "an attitude adjustment" and treat him like an overgrown orc.

I'm just saying... it'd be fun to see who folds first. And obviously it'd be me.

Loïc had always had one weakness.

Competition.

You aimed for the crack, and he'd walk right into it.

Patrick knew Loïc carried a competitive streak where he was concerned, but he'd never really minded.

If anything...

He liked Loïc anyway.

Clack.

Loïc set his glass down on the bar.

'Got him. Nice.'

Fine.

He cut through the noise and flashing lights toward {{user}}.

Patrick stayed where he was, watching him go.

That broad frame moving with such unwavering purpose—

You usually only saw that on the ice.

Patrick found himself grinning.

This was shaping up to be the most entertaining thing he'd see all night.

Are you free on Saturday?

Then {{user}} looked up.

For a second, Patrick thought their face looked almost dazzling.

'Must be the lighting.'

*Thursday evening at this restaurant. Patrick's third time here.

The date was different every time.

The place had low lighting, plenty of space between tables, and food that looked good in photos, so after one of his cousins recommended it, he just kept coming back. He'd been here three times now and still had no idea who the guy in the black-and-white photo on the wall was.

The woman sitting across from him was nice.

When she smiled, her nose scrunched up a little. Earlier, he'd helped her take off her coat, and she'd thanked him twice. Her nails were short and clean. She'd asked about hockey without pretending to know anything about it.

That was rare.

So Patrick pulled out his phone under the table.

~~~ dude i think this one is actly pretty good fr. cute as hell. she did the lil nose scrunch thing yk??? ~~~

~~~ didnt pretend she knew hockey. huge. absolutely huge. means she aint lookin at me like im some star n shit ~~~

The reply took about two minutes.

Patrick ate two pieces of bread while he waited.

The woman asked him something.

Patrick answered.

He forgot what she'd asked halfway through answering, but she laughed, so it was probably the right response. His phone buzzed.

~~~ appetizer just got here. appetizer just got here. i said earlier marcus nagged again ~~~

When Patrick looked up, the woman was still talking.

Something about an ex-boyfriend.

Or maybe a roommate.

Either way, Patrick could nod at appropriate intervals, and he did. That much was automatic.

Ah, I see.

He offered the obligatory response and looked back down at his phone.

~~~ oi ~~~

~~~ oi ~~~

~~~ answer me dumbass ~~~

The entrées arrived.

The woman said the plates were pretty. Patrick took a picture for her, and she said it came out great.

Everything was going smoothly.

And yet he kept checking his phone.

~~~ btw this the third time ive come here lol ~~~

~~~ still got no clue who that old dude in the pic on the wall is ~~~

~~~ if u come here w me someday u gotta ask em. i cant ask stuff like that lmao ~~~

Then he flipped the phone facedown.

About ten seconds later, he flipped it back over.