Chapter 5
Heated Argument
The ice was cold, but the tension between Emery and Ryder was even colder. The rink had become their battleground, a place where every movement, every turn, seemed to fuel the animosity between them. What had started as a forced partnership had slowly evolved into a full-blown rivalry—one that neither of them was willing to back down from.
Emery was trying to focus, working through a series of delicate spins and jumps that she knew would perfect her routine. She was nothing if not precise. Every motion was calculated, every turn carefully timed. But it was hard to maintain her concentration with Ryder constantly zooming around her, cutting across the ice like a whirlwind. His hockey skates clashed with the graceful rhythm of her figure skates, and every time he passed by, his rough movements disturbed the fluidity she worked so hard to maintain.
Ryder, on the other hand, was growing increasingly frustrated. His patience was thinning. Emery's slow, precise movements seemed to get in his way. He was used to power, to speed, to aggressive control. Watching her glide across the ice like she had all the time in the world made his blood boil. It felt like she was moving in slow motion while he was stuck in fast-forward.
Finally, after narrowly avoiding her as she executed a delicate pirouette, Ryder couldn't take it anymore.
"Can you move any slower?" he snapped, his voice sharp, cutting through the stillness of the rink. He skated up to her, coming to a stop just a few feet away, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
Emery's jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing at him. She had been so focused on her routine that his interruption felt like an insult. "What's your problem, Kessler?" she shot back, her voice laced with frustration. "You're the one who's skating around like a bulldozer. This isn't a hockey rink."
Ryder's nostrils flared. "Oh, don't start with that. Maybe if you weren't so busy tip-toeing around the ice like you're on a catwalk, you could actually get some speed in your routine!"
"I don't need to rush through my routine to look impressive," Emery retorted, her eyes flashing with indignation. "Unlike you, I don't just throw myself onto the ice and hope it works out. Precision matters!"
Ryder's glare grew colder. "Yeah, well, maybe you'd get somewhere if you stopped focusing so much on pretty moves and actually tried to compete. This is about power. It's about intensity. You can't just spin in circles and expect to win."
Emery felt her heart racing. The nerve of him! "I don't need your brute force to win, Kessler. It's called grace. You wouldn't understand something like that."
"Grace?" Ryder barked a harsh laugh. "You call what you do graceful? You look like you're about to float off into the clouds. This is a competition. It's about pushing your body to the limit, not acting like a ballerina."
Emery's hands balled into fists at her sides. "At least I know what it means to control my body. Maybe you should try learning that instead of flailing around like an animal."
Ryder's jaw clenched, his breath coming faster now, as the rage simmered beneath his calm exterior. He stepped forward, his chest nearly touching hers. "I'm not the one who's out here pretending to be delicate. I'm here to win. I'm not going to waste my time on someone who thinks they're too good to push themselves."
"Oh, please," Emery spat, throwing her arms out in exasperation. "You think you're the only one who works hard? You think you're the only one who sacrifices? You're just too arrogant to realize that this isn't about being tough. It's about the work. It's about heart. Something you don't have."
Ryder took a step closer, their faces inches apart now. The ice felt even colder as the words hung between them like an unspoken challenge. "And you think I don't know what it's like to sacrifice? You think I don't give everything I've got? Newsflash, Vaughn—I'm not here to cater to you. I'm here to win. And if you can't handle that, maybe you should just stay out of my way."
Emery's face flushed with anger. She opened her mouth to fire back, but before she could, a loud voice interrupted the heated exchange.
"Enough!" Coach Thompson's voice rang out from the stands, her sharp tone cutting through the tension like a knife. She had been watching from the sidelines, arms crossed, eyes narrowed with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "You two are supposed to be training together, not starting a damn war!"
Both Ryder and Emery stiffened, but neither made a move to step away from the other. Their eyes remained locked, burning with rivalry.
"Now," Coach Thompson continued, her voice softening but still commanding. "You're going to stop this petty bickering and focus. I don't care how different your styles are. You're here to make each other better. You don't like each other? Tough luck. Work through it."
Ryder let out a sharp exhale, turning his back to Emery and skating a few feet away. But the fire in his eyes didn't dim.
Emery, too, turned away, her chest still rising and falling with frustration. She had never been this annoyed by anyone before. But Ryder was different. He got under her skin in a way that no one else could.
Coach Thompson raised her voice again, making sure she had their attention. "You're both competitive. I get it. But don't think for a second that I'm going to let you waste my time with this childish behavior. You're both too good for this. Now get back on the ice and show me you're professionals. Understood?"
The rink was silent except for the sound of their blades scraping against the ice as they reluctantly resumed practice. But the air between them was still thick, charged with a silent promise of more arguments to come. Ryder's glare was still burning into the back of Emery's head as she focused on her routine, refusing to show how much he had rattled her.
It was clear—this wasn't going to be easy. But nothing worth fighting for ever was.