Avinav's pov
They say love is a battlefield. Personally, I think it's a hallway in a ridiculously overpriced private school, filled with snobby ice skaters and even snobbier hockey players who all pretend they aren't tired, sore, and one caffeine withdrawal away from a breakdown.
And in the middle of that glorious disaster? Me. The puppet master.
Now, before you call me evil or dramatic (which, fine, I am both), you have to understand something: those two are exhausting. Val and Theo. Dodge and Deluca. The Ice Queen and the Golden Boy with the Attitude Problem™. If they don't kill each other first, they'll end up kissing, and frankly, I'd like to see that happen just so the tension in this place drops below DEFCON 1.
So yeah, I'm intervening. You're welcome.
But first, the reason why everyone's on edge: Winter Inter-Sport Championship. That mouthful of a name basically means figure skaters, hockey players, and anyone else who owns a pair of skates is being thrown into a week of hardcore training and showy performances for scholarships, scouts, and sponsors.
Theo's already being scouted. Val? She's under pressure from her nightmare of a father to qualify for international trials. Stakes are skyscraper-high.
So tensions? Also skyscraper-high.
Which makes this the perfect time for a little chaos.
I've been watching them for weeks. Theo throws little jabs, flirty and mean, like he's trying to get a reaction but pretending not to care. Val fires back, but with more restraint—like she's holding a knife behind her back, waiting to strike.
So. I have a plan.
It involves two things:
1. A minor class schedule change.
2. A very real argument about to explode in third-period history.
Let me explain.
I've got History with Theo on Tuesday. Val has it on Friday. But thanks to an online form and my surprisingly excellent ability to forge adult signatures (thank you, Adobe Fill & Sign), I've swapped us. No one's noticed yet. History is a dead class anyway—dark room, documentaries, grumpy teacher.
But when those two are stuck in a class together with no escape? Oh, magic.
The best part? The teacher in question has a strict no-nonsense rule. You disrupt class? You get detention. Not the fun after-school kind where you sneak out early. No. Real detention. With extra assignments.
And if my timing's right—which it always is—they'll both explode at each other around the thirty-minute mark.
And then? Detention. Together. Alone. With me in the back row watching it all unfold like it's a live show.
The cherry on top? That same teacher just got picked to head the new "Global Sports Awareness" campaign. That means our detention queen and king will be working on a presentation. Together. In front of an audience.
Project Topic? Still up for vote:
Importance of Sports in Personal Development
Providing Sports Resources in Underserved Countries
How to Not Commit Homicide on Ice: A Guide for Athletes Named Theo and Val
(Okay, I made the last one up. But I might suggest it.)
Anyway. They're going to hate me. Then they'll hate each other. Then, eventually, they'll hate how much they don't hate each other. It's the cycle of life. Or at least of YA romance.
And when it all comes crashing down? I'll be right here.
Front row.
Popcorn ready.