Asher’s POV
The cold night air hits my face as we push through the arena doors, but it does nothing to cool the heat still burning under my skin.
I can't stop thinking about what just happened. Blaze on top of me. Our noses brushing. The way my fingers curled into his jersey, pulling him closer when I should have pushed him away. The way I wanted—
No. I'm not going there.
Blaze walks beside me in silence, close enough that our shoulders almost touch. Neither of us has spoken since we left the ice. What is there to say? We almost kissed. I almost let it happen. I almost wanted it more than I've wanted anything in a long time.
What the hell does that make me?
"Ash—" Blaze starts.
"Asher."
The voice freezes me in my tracks. Not Blaze's voice. Feminine. Familiar. The last voice I want to hear right now.
Amelia steps out from the shadow of the building, arms wrapped around herself against the cold. She looks smaller than I remember. Fragile. Her eyes are red-rimmed, mascara smudged like she's been crying.
"I've been waiting for you," she says. "I knew you'd be here. You always come here when you're upset."
I don't move. Don't speak. Just stare at the girl I spent a year with, the girl I thought I loved, the girl who was straddling someone else three days ago.
"Can we talk?" She takes a tentative step forward. "Please? Just five minutes. I need to explain."
"There's nothing to explain."
"There is." Her voice cracks. "It was a mistake, Asher. A stupid, terrible mistake. Marcus didn't mean anything to me. I was lonely, and you were always at practice, and I just—" She wipes at her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I love you. I want to fix this."
The words wash over me, hollow and meaningless. A week ago, they might have worked. A week ago, I might have listened, might have let her back in because having someone—anyone—felt better than being alone.
But that was before the supply closet. Before Blaze held my face in his hands and told me I'd be okay. Before I fell on the ice with someone else's body pressed against mine and felt more alive than I ever did in a year with her.
"No," I say.
Amelia blinks. "What?"
"I said no." My voice comes out steadier than I expected. "We're done, Amelia. I don't want to fix this."
"Asher, please—" She reaches for my arm.
"He said no."
Blaze's voice cuts through the cold air like a blade. He steps forward, positioning himself slightly between me and Amelia. Not aggressive, but unmistakably protective.
Amelia's eyes widen, flickering between us. "This is a private conversation."
"Didn't look like a conversation to me." Blaze crosses his arms. "Looked like you weren't taking no for an answer."
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Amelia's voice sharpens, desperation giving way to anger. "This has nothing to do with you."
"It has everything to do with me." Blaze doesn't raise his voice, but something in his tone makes her take a step back. "He's my teammate. My friend. And you hurt him. So yeah, I'm making it my business."
Amelia stares at him, then at me. Something shifts in her expression—confusion, suspicion, the beginning of an ugly realization.
"Is this why?" She gestures between us. "Is he why you're throwing away a year together?"
"This isn't about him."
"Really? Because he's been glued to your side since he got here." Her laugh is bitter. "God, Asher. I knew you were distant, but I didn't realize you were—"
"Careful." Blaze's voice drops, dangerous. "Think very carefully about what you're about to say."
The warning hangs in the air. Amelia's mouth snaps shut, whatever accusation she was forming dying on her tongue.
I should say something. Should defend myself, explain, deny whatever she's implying. But I'm tired. So fucking tired of defending myself, of pretending, of being someone I'm not sure I ever was.
"We're done here," I say quietly. "Don't wait for me again."
I turn and walk away. After a beat, Blaze falls into step beside me.
"Asher!" Amelia's voice echoes behind us. "Asher, wait!"
I don't look back.
We walk in silence through the parking lot, past the streetlights casting pools of orange on the pavement, past the last few cars belonging to janitors and late-night staff. I don't know where I'm going. Don't care. Just need to move, to put distance between myself and everything that just happened.
"You okay?" Blaze asks finally.
"No." The honesty surprises me. "I don't know what I am."
"That's fair."
We reach the edge of campus. My apartment is a ten-minute walk from here. I should say goodbye, should let Blaze go back to wherever he came from, should process everything alone like I always do.
Instead, I hear myself say: "Walk me home?"
Blaze's steps falter for just a second. When I glance over, something soft and surprised flickers across his face before he schools it into neutrality.
"Yeah." His voice is quiet. "Of course."
We walk. The night is cold and clear, stars scattered across the sky like someone spilled salt on black velvet. Our breath fogs in the air, mingling together before dissolving into nothing.
"Thank you," I say after a while. "For back there. With Amelia."
"You don't have to thank me."
"I know. But still." I shove my hands in my pockets, watching my feet move across the sidewalk. "Nobody's ever... I mean, I'm not used to someone..."
"Having your back?"
I nod, throat tight.
"Get used to it." Blaze's shoulder bumps against mine. "I meant what I said, Ash. I'm not going anywhere."
We fall into comfortable silence. The streets are mostly empty—a few students hurrying home, a couple walking hand in hand across the street.
"Can I ask you something?" Blaze's voice is careful.
"Depends."
"What she said back there. About me being the reason you're okay with ending things." He pauses. "Is that true?"
My feet keep moving, but my brain stalls. The honest answer terrifies me.
"I don't know," I finally say. "Maybe. Partly." I take a breath. "When I caught her with Marcus, I expected to be devastated. But I wasn't—not the way I should've been. Not the way you're supposed to feel when you lose someone you love."
"And now?"
"Now I'm starting to think maybe I never loved her at all. Maybe I just... wanted to want her. Because that's what I was supposed to do."
The confession hangs in the air. I've never said that out loud before.
Blaze is quiet for a moment. Then: "There's nothing wrong with figuring out what you actually want, Ash. Even if it's scary."
"Is that what you did? Figure out what you want?"
He laughs softly. "I figured that out a long time ago. I've just been waiting for the right moment."
I don't ask what he means. I think I already know.
We reach my building too soon. I stop at the entrance, keys in hand, suddenly reluctant to go inside. To be alone with my thoughts and the memory of his body on mine and the question I'm not ready to answer.
"This is me," I say stupidly.
"I know." Blaze is watching me with those brown eyes, patient and warm. Waiting for something. Not pushing.
The words are out before I can stop them: "Do you want to come up?"
Silence. My heart pounds. I can't believe I just said that.
Blaze's lips curve into a small smile. "You sure?"
No. I'm not sure about anything anymore.
"Yeah," I say anyway. "I'm sure."
I unlock the door and hold it open. Blaze hesitates for just a moment—giving me one last chance to take it back—before stepping through.
The door closes behind us, and suddenly the night feels different. Charged with possibility. Terrifying in ways I'm only beginning to understand.
But for the first time in a long time, I'm not running from it.