Chapter 4
Rivalry
The following week, the tension between Emery and Ryder only grew thicker. The practice sessions had become a battleground—each day a new test of skill, will, and pride. It had started with small jabs, harmless words exchanged between two athletes who thought they knew better, but now it was more. Every glance between them was a challenge, every movement on the ice a silent competition.
Emery had always been focused on her craft. The rink was her sanctuary, her stage, and she couldn't afford distractions. But Ryder? He was a constant presence, always in the corner of her eye, his every stride a reminder of their forced partnership.
Tonight was no different. The rink was quiet as the evening's practice began, the cold air nipping at her skin as Emery glided out onto the ice. She had a routine to perfect, a routine that could make or break her chance at nationals. She couldn't afford to let anything—or anyone—distract her.
But there he was, moving like a storm across the ice. Ryder's power and speed were impossible to ignore. He moved with such force that the ice beneath him almost seemed to shudder. His hockey sticks sliced through the air, sharp and aggressive, like his very presence demanded attention.
Emery tried to focus, spinning into a jump, her legs slicing through the air as she executed a flawless triple axel. She landed gracefully, the sound of her blades scraping gently against the ice. But even as she continued, she could feel Ryder's eyes on her. It wasn't just a casual glance; he was watching her, sizing her up, judging every move.
When she finished her set, she took a deep breath, shaking the nerves from her body. She wasn't about to let him see any weakness. She'd show him that figure skating wasn't about just looking pretty on the ice—it was about precision, grace, and dedication. Something he clearly didn't understand.
She glanced over to see him skating toward her. The cocky grin was already back on his face. "Nice jump," he said, though there was an edge to his tone, as if he was mocking her. "But you're going to need more than that to beat me."
Emery clenched her jaw, not ready to let his words get under her skin, but it was hard. He wasn't just criticizing her skills; he was attacking her as a skater, as if he could do it better with one hand tied behind his back.
"I don't need to beat you," she retorted coolly, trying to keep her voice steady. "You're the one who's stuck with me."
Ryder's smirk only widened. "You're right. I am stuck with you. But I can work with it." He leaned in, his eyes narrowing. "For now."
The implication was clear: Ryder was here to win, to prove he was the best, and if that meant taking her down a peg, then that's exactly what he would do.
Emery felt her hackles rise. No one got to talk to her like that—not on her turf. She had spent years perfecting her craft, making sacrifices that Ryder probably couldn't even imagine. She wasn't about to let him waltz in here and belittle her, even if he was a hockey captain. Even if he was talented.
Without thinking, she skated toward him with determination. "You don't know anything about what it takes to be a figure skater," she said, her voice tight with frustration. "It's not just about showing off with big moves or fast sprints. It's about finesse, control, and grace. Something you wouldn't understand."
Ryder's lips curled into a half-smile, but his eyes were sharp. "I think I understand more than you realize. And you might be surprised at how much speed and power can help with your kind of skating." He skated in a wide arc around her, showing off a series of quick, aggressive maneuvers. "Maybe you should try it sometime—ditch the delicate twirls and actually push yourself."
Emery's pulse quickened, anger flaring up inside her. It wasn't just that he was challenging her skills—it was the way he dismissed everything she'd worked for, everything she loved about skating.
"You think you have it all figured out, don't you?" she shot back, skating to intercept him as he skated past. "Well, newsflash, Kessler: You don't know a thing about what it takes to sacrifice for this sport. So stop acting like you're the only one who knows how to push the limits."
Ryder stopped in his tracks, his expression darkening for the first time. "You don't know anything about me," he said, his voice low, almost threatening.
The words hung in the air between them, crackling with an intensity that neither of them could ignore. Emery had crossed a line, but it was too late to take it back now. She wasn't about to back down, not after everything he'd thrown at her.
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I know enough. You think I'm just some prima donna figure skater who doesn't know the meaning of hard work. But I've been on this ice since I was five. I've bled, I've fallen, and I've gotten back up every single time. So, don't talk to me like you're the only one who knows what it means to fight for something."
Ryder's eyes flickered with something unreadable. For a moment, they stood there, locked in a silent battle, neither of them willing to back down. The rink was quiet, but the space between them was anything but.
Finally, Ryder broke the silence, his voice clipped. "I didn't come here to play nice, Vaughn. I came here to win. And if you want to keep up, you better get used to it."
Emery's heart hammered in her chest. "Bring it on, Kessler. I'm not backing down."
For a moment, it seemed like the entire world had faded away, leaving just the two of them, caught in a storm of competitive energy. Neither was willing to yield, neither ready to admit that this rivalry wasn't just about skating—it was about proving who could outlast the other. It wasn't just about winning anymore. It was about dominance.
As they faced off, their breaths heavy and eyes locked, the ice beneath them seemed to pulse with the weight of their friction—two worlds colliding, two wills clashing.
And the game had only just begun.