Theo's pov
I don't know what this is.
Attraction? Admiration? Curiosity? A mild obsession dressed in figure skates and sarcasm?
Whatever it is, it's messing with my head. I've got a qualifier coming up in less than three days , scouts in the stands, and a coach who's ready to glue my ass to the bench if I slack off even once. But the only thing I've been focusing on lately is... her.
Val Deluca.
The girl who shows up late, argues with me like it's a competitive sport, and somehow still manages to look like art in motion every time she steps onto the rink.
I tug on the sleeves of my hoodie as I leave the locker room, hair still damp from the shower, eyes skimming over the familiar hallways of the school. They feel tight, claustrophobic. Like even the bricks are judging me for how distracted I've been.
I don't get it. I never let anyone get to me. Not like this.
Should I be setting boundaries? Tuning her out? I tried. I swear I tried. But then she'd look at me—just one glance, just one stupid comment—and I'm hooked again. Annoyed. Intrigued. Completely off track.
I step outside into the evening air, cooler now. The sky's that dusty shade between pink and grey, the kind that makes everything feel a little slower. I slip my hands into my pockets, head down the street until I reach Nocturne Café, where Avinav told me to meet him.
The bell above the door jingles when I step inside. Warm lighting, coffee, cinnamon, indie music in the background. I spot Avinav already at a booth, typing something on his phone, half a muffin left on his plate.
I slide into the seat across from him and give him a look. "You called this meeting like it's an emergency."
He doesn't even glance up. "You're late."
"I had to scrub off the shame of being ignored by a figure skater."
Avinav finally looks up, eyebrows raising. "So you do care."
I roll my eyes. "Don't start."
"Too late."
He shoves his phone into his pocket and leans back like he's about to launch into a TED Talk.
"I already know," I say flatly. "You and Ashley. The plan. The whole 'Let's push Theo and Val together and hope for fireworks' thing."
He pauses mid-sip of his coffee. "Damn. How'd you find out?"
"You're subtle like a brick to the face."
Avinav laughs, hands up in surrender. "Alright, fine. Guilty. But you've gotta admit—things are kinda sparking."
I tilt my head. "Your plan might be working. For me. I don't know about her."
There's a pause. One of those rare, serious ones where the world gets a little quieter.
"I'm not saying I'm in love with her," I mutter, looking past him toward the café window, "but I... like her. A lot. I don't know what kind of like it is yet. It's not hearts-and-flowers, I'll-die-for-you stuff. It's just... she makes things feel less heavy."
Avinav watches me, not saying anything.
"I'm not sure if this is friendship," I continue, "or if it's the kind of 'like' that turns into something bigger. But I think about her. A lot. More than I should. And when she's around, I get this annoying urge to... irritate her. Get under her skin. Make her look at me. Even when she's trying not to."
Avinav grins. "You're hopeless."
"You started this."
"And I'm officially done," he says, grabbing his drink. "I think it's time you take it from here. No more setups. No more sabotage. You want her? Go get her. Screw Nicole. Screw your father's plans. Screw the company."
Ah. Right. Nicole.
I sigh, sitting back in the booth. "You know he's still trying to make it happen, right? My stepdad. The marriage."
Avinav winces. "Dude."
"He keeps parading Nicole around like she's the golden ticket. Like just because we were close as kids, that means I owe her something now."
"You were best friends, right?"
"Back then, yeah. We used to hang out all the time. She'd steal my chips, I'd threaten to throw her into the lake. Classic stuff." I shrug. "But something shifted. I stopped seeing her that way. And she... didn't."
"So now she's obsessed and your father's thrilled."
"Pretty much."
"And you?"
"I just want to get away from all of it. The penthouse. The fake brunches. The expectations. I want to get my own place, take my mom with me, and just... live. Skate. Breathe."
Avinav taps the edge of his cup. "You're not your dad."
"I know."
"Then don't let him write your story."
I nod slowly. "Yeah."
There's a silence between us. A rare, comfortable one.
Then I smirk. "So. Speaking of doomed plans—how's Ashley?"
Avinav nearly chokes on his drink. "What?"
"You two have been awfully... chummy."
His face turns red. "Shut up."
"Is that blush, Avi?"
"Shut. Up."
I laugh, full-on, for the first time today. "You're worse than me."
He glares. "You're buying the next coffee."
"Fair trade."
I lean back in the booth again, gaze drifting back to the window. Somewhere out there, Val's probably skating, headphones in, eyes focused, lost in her world.
And maybe—just maybe—I want to be part of that world.
Even if I have no idea how to say it yet.