Chapter 3 — The First Collision
Ariel
The cab driver glanced at Ariel through the rearview mirror, his expression a mix of impatience and resignation. “You sure about this route, lady? Midtown traffic’s a nightmare today.”
Ariel nodded absently, her fingers tightening on the strap of her mother’s satchel resting on her lap. “It’s fine. Just… get me there.”
Her stomach churned, a familiar knot of nerves twisting tighter with each passing block. Outside the cab, the snow-dusted city blurred into a chaotic symphony of honking horns, shuffling pedestrians, and flashing lights. The streets, constricted by the press of vehicles and hurried figures wrapped in scarves and heavy coats, seemed to mirror the pressure building inside her. Every exhaled puff of cold air from passersby reminded her how thin her own breaths felt—strained, shallow, and unable to fill her lungs completely.
She adjusted the satchel on her lap, her fingers brushing over the worn leather. The sturdy texture was a tether to the present, its faint scent of aged leather grounding her, but even its reassuring weight couldn’t quiet her racing thoughts. Her mind leapt unbidden to Mrs. Finch’s face—soft-spoken gratitude laced with trust that Ariel no longer felt she deserved. Her chest tightened. What if someone on this team put that same trust in her and she failed again? What if this new beginning led to the same bitter end?
The cab hit a brief lull in the crawl of traffic, and Ariel leaned her forehead against the cold window, forcing a slow breath. Her father’s words from the night before whispered through her mind: “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to try.” But even those words, steady and warm as they were, felt like a fragile echo now, barely audible over the drumbeat of doubt.
The light ahead turned green, and the cab rolled forward—only for the car in front to slam on its brakes. The driver cursed, stomping on the pedal, but the cab jolted hard against the vehicle ahead. The thud of impact, though minor, sent a sharp jolt through Ariel’s body. She gripped her satchel reflexively, the leather groaning softly under her tightening fingers.
“Dammit,” the driver muttered, throwing the cab into park. “Hang tight. Let me handle this.”
Ariel barely had time to gather her bearings before the driver stepped out, gesturing and apologizing in rapid succession to the driver of the sleek, black sedan they’d bumped. Ariel pushed herself upright, her pulse hammering as she craned her neck to see. The luxury car gleamed even under the dull gray sky, its tinted windows hinting at the kind of occupant who could make her regret not crawling under her seat to hide.
The driver’s door opened, and her stomach dropped. The tall, sharp figure that emerged was unmistakable. Jet-black hair slicked back, features angular and honed as if carved from ice, and a posture that radiated both control and irritation. Eros Candreva.
Of course, it had to be him.
The star goalie of the New York Blades—the team she hadn’t even officially joined yet—stood with his arms crossed, his expression cold enough to rival the frosty air curling around them. Ariel’s fingers curled instinctively against her satchel, seeking some anchor as her heart plummeted further. Her mind immediately spiraled. Did he recognize her? Would he report this to Mack? She imagined the worst: her first day tarnished by whispers of incompetence before she even stepped into the arena.
Eros’s sharp gaze flicked past the cab driver and locked directly onto her through the windshield. Her breath caught, panic blooming hot and unwelcome in her chest. She ducked her gaze, fumbling for composure as she tried to shrink into the seat.
Eros dismissed the cab driver with a brusque wave of his hand and strode toward the passenger-side window. Ariel barely managed to roll it down before he leaned in, the crisp scent of winter air swirling in with him.
“In a rush,” he said flatly, his voice clipped and pointed, “or does your driver have a death wish?”
“I—I’m so sorry,” Ariel stammered, her fingers wringing the strap of her satchel. “It must’ve been the slick roads. I’ll make sure he’s more careful.”
His ice-blue eyes swept over her with a kind of detached assessment, his expression unreadable but heavy with judgment. Beneath the frostiness of his demeanor, there was a flicker of something else—an edge of tightly reined frustration that hinted at deeper undercurrents. After a beat, he straightened, brushing a stray flake of snow from his tailored coat. “An accident, then,” he said, his tone sharp but no longer cutting. “Let’s hope it’s not a habit.”
Ariel’s cheeks burned, though whether from embarrassment or frustration, she couldn’t be sure. She fought the urge to blurt out something defensive. “Again, I’m really sorry. If there’s anything—”
“Save it,” Eros interrupted, his voice brisk as he turned on his heel and strode back to his car without a backward glance.
The cab driver returned, muttering under his breath about “entitled types” as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “Guy acts like we totaled his car or something,” he grumbled, throwing the cab into gear.
Ariel barely heard him. She sank into her seat as the cab eased back into traffic, her mind replaying the encounter on an endless loop. Eros’s cold glare, the dismissive edge in his voice, the weight of her own mortification—it all pressed against her like a too-heavy coat. Of course this would happen. First day, first disaster. The kind of impression that would ripple through the team before she even introduced herself.
The towering glass façade of Icy Pinnacle Arena loomed into view, its sheer height and polish exuding the kind of gravitas that made her palms sweat. She stared at it through the cab window, her stomach a tangle of dread. The arena was a symbol of everything she was stepping into—pressure, scrutiny, and a stage she wasn’t sure she was ready for. Her heart pounded in sync with each crunch of her boots on the salted sidewalk as she stepped out, clutching the satchel tightly against her side.
Inside, the lobby buzzed with activity—sharp clicks of shoes on polished floors, the hum of distant voices, and the metallic tang of industrial heating filling the air. The sleek, modern design of the space seemed to echo both the efficiency and the unforgiving nature of the world she was entering.
Ariel adjusted the strap of her satchel and approached the receptionist, who barely glanced up before directing her toward Rebecca’s office. She navigated the labyrinthine hallways with a mixture of determination and dread, her mind still reeling over the collision. Eros’s words, his gaze—his judgment—they looped through her thoughts, leaving her stomach knotted.
By the time she reached the slightly ajar door of Rebecca’s office, her nerves were frayed to the point of snapping. She hesitated, taking a steadying breath before stepping inside.
“Ariel,” Rebecca greeted warmly, her voice like a balm against Ariel’s frazzled thoughts. She rose from her desk, her smile calm and reassuring. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost in the city.”
“Not lost,” Ariel said with a weak smile. “Just… delayed. Sorry about that.”
Rebecca’s sharp eyes softened as she waved it off. “First days are always a little chaotic. You’re here—that’s what matters.”
Ariel sank into the chair across from Rebecca’s desk, her grip on her satchel loosening just slightly. The older woman’s steady presence was like a lifeline. Still, the tension in Ariel’s chest didn’t entirely dissipate. The image of Eros’s cold glare loomed like a shadow over her thoughts.
Rebecca rose and motioned for Ariel to follow. “Ready to meet the team?”
Ready wasn’t the right word, but Ariel nodded anyway. “As I’ll ever be.”
Rebecca’s calm but purposeful stride guided Ariel through the corridors, her steady stream of advice grounding her with each step. Ariel clung to her words, trying to absorb every detail as they approached the locker room. But no amount of preparation could erase the memory of Eros’s icy dismissal—or the sinking feeling that this was only the beginning of a very long day.
