Chapter 6
Ice Not Personal
The tension on the ice was palpable, thickening with each passing minute. Emery pushed herself through a series of precise jumps, her body moving through the air with grace and control. But every time she landed, she couldn't escape the memory of Ryder's harsh words. His presence on the ice felt like an unwelcome weight, pulling her focus away from the routine she was desperately trying to perfect.
She tried to shake it off. She had trained too long, sacrificed too much, to let anyone—especially Ryder Kessler—derail her concentration. Her blades cut through the ice with a satisfying swish as she completed a clean axel, but even that didn't feel enough. She could feel his eyes on her, a constant pressure she couldn't ignore.
Ryder, on the other hand, seemed to be skating with more aggression than usual. He powered through each drill, his body a blur of motion as he practiced hard, fast, and relentless. But his eyes flicked toward Emery constantly, a mixture of annoyance and curiosity flickering in them as she worked. Her perfect, calculated movements were nothing like his raw energy, and it frustrated him. He had always prided himself on his ability to dominate on the ice, but seeing her glide through her routine with ease made him feel—dare he admit it?—inadequate.
It was almost as if their opposing styles of skating were mirrors of their personalities—Emery's focus and precision clashing with Ryder's reckless abandon and drive. And every time one of them executed a move, there was a silent challenge in the air, a subtle question of who was better, who had more control. They were so determined to prove themselves to each other, neither willing to back down.
Emery's blades cut sharply against the ice as she started another series of spins, hoping to find some semblance of peace in the repetition. But then, just as she was about to finish, Ryder skated by, too close for comfort, his body rushing past hers in a swift arc, sending a rush of cold air in her direction.
"Are you serious?" Emery snapped, her frustration boiling over. "Can't you stay on your side of the rink for five minutes?"
Ryder barely spared her a glance as he continued to speed around the rink. "I'm not the one who's constantly in the way," he shot back, his tone biting. "Maybe if you didn't take your sweet time with every move, you'd actually get somewhere."
Emery's temper flared. "At least I'm not crashing into everyone else's practice just because I think I'm the best."
"That's because you're not the best," Ryder retorted, stopping short in front of her. "You're slow."
The insult stung, but Emery refused to show it. "You know what?" she huffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're right. I'm slow. Maybe I'm too focused on getting things right, but at least I don't throw myself around and pray I don't break my neck like some people."
Ryder's fists clenched at his sides, his frustration growing into something darker. "You really think you're better than me, don't you? You think your little pirouettes and jumps mean anything in the grand scheme of things?"
Emery's eyes flashed, her jaw tightening. "At least I don't treat the ice like a battlefield. Maybe if you spent more time training properly, you wouldn't have to rely on luck and power to get by."
For a moment, the two of them just stood there, facing each other in the center of the rink. The cold air between them was thick with unspoken words, neither willing to take a step back. The world around them seemed to fall away as they both stood frozen in this small, silent war.
Coach Thompson, who had been watching quietly from the sidelines, finally had enough. She skated onto the rink with a sharp, commanding look in her eyes.
"Enough!" she barked, her voice cutting through the growing tension. "Both of you are behaving like children, and I'm done with it."
Emery and Ryder both turned to face her, their chests still heaving with frustration. The coach crossed her arms and glared at them.
"This is ridiculous," she said, her voice laced with annoyance. "You two are supposed to be working together, and instead, you're letting your egos get in the way. I don't care if you're rivals. I don't care if you hate each other's guts. But this needs to stop."
Ryder opened his mouth to protest, but Coach Thompson silenced him with a raised hand. "No more arguments. No more petty back-and-forth. You're going to respect the time you have on this ice, and you're going to work together. If I catch either of you acting like this again, you'll be benched for the rest of the week. Got it?"
Neither of them said a word. Instead, they exchanged a seething glance—one that spoke volumes but didn't need to be vocalized. Their coach's threat lingered in the air, but the unspoken tension between them remained just as strong.
"Good," Coach Thompson said curtly. "Now get back to it. I expect to see some improvement today, not more drama."
With that, she turned and skated off the ice, leaving Emery and Ryder to face each other once more. This time, however, there was no immediate outburst. They both reluctantly returned to their positions on the rink, though neither could completely let go of the anger simmering beneath the surface.
Emery focused on her footwork, trying to block out the sound of Ryder's sharp skates carving into the ice behind her. But even as she forced herself to move through her routine, the tension was suffocating. Every time she glanced over at him, she could feel his eyes burning into her, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was feeling the same way.
The truth was, it wasn't just about the ice anymore. It was personal.
As the session continued, the frustration between them festered—quiet but intense. Emery's usual focus had been replaced by the sharp ache of unresolved conflict. Ryder's movements, once fast and precise, now seemed almost reckless as he threw himself into his drills with an almost desperate energy. It was clear: neither of them had truly let go of the argument.
But one thing was becoming undeniable—their rivalry wasn't going anywhere.
And neither of them was going to let it end with a simple apology.