Hi guys!
Thanks so much for all the get well messages earlier—you're the best! I'm fully recovered now and back at it. Don't worry, I'm definitely still working on Neighbors in Destiny, but I've been reading a lot of sports romance lately and just couldn't help myself. I got super inspired and had to write this.
This story is loosely inspired by Icebreaker by Hannah Grace (which you should read if you haven't already!). It's just a small, fluffy story full of banter. I hope you guys love it as much as I've loved writing it.
Can't wait to hear your thoughts! - AN
Chasing the ice
Chapter 1
Tris Prior's life was measured in milliseconds—the sharp scrape of her skates on the ice, the adrenaline-fueled countdown to the finish line, and the constant push to shave another fraction of a second off her time. As Dauntless University's top speed skater, she was a blur of precision and focus, her life revolving around early morning practices and late-night study sessions. Petite but powerful, Tris had a wiry strength in her frame, her blonde hair often pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail, and sharp gray eyes that missed nothing. Her demeanor was as icy as the rink she trained on—stoic, determined, and untouchable.
Dauntless University, nestled in the heart of Chicago, was known for its elite athletic programs, attracting top-tier talent from across the country. The campus was a sprawling labyrinth of historic brick buildings and modern athletic facilities, set against the backdrop of Lake Michigan's windswept shores. It wasn't just a place to study—it was a crucible where champions were forged.
Tris had always thrived under pressure. She preferred the solitude of the ice, the singular focus of beating her own best time. But she wasn't oblivious to the university's athletic culture, steeped in camaraderie and fierce rivalries, especially with the hockey team—the kings of the rink. And at the center of that throne sat Tobias "Four" Eaton.
Of course, Tris knew who Tobias was. Everyone did. He wasn't just another athlete; he was a legend on campus. In his final year, Tobias had practically carved his name into the university's history books, leading the Dauntless hockey team to back-to-back championships. He was the kind of player scouts drooled over, and it was no secret he'd have his pick of offers from hockey teams across the country once he graduated. But it wasn't just his skill on the ice that made him infamous—it was his attitude. Tobias Eaton was the cockiest person on campus, strutting through the halls like he owned the place, his piercing blue eyes daring anyone to challenge him.
It was a rare, bitterly cold Monday morning when all the athletes were summoned to the Dean's office. Rumors swirled like snowflakes in the air—some said budget cuts, others whispered about a potential scandal. Whatever it was, Tris wasn't thrilled about having her training disrupted.
She entered the grand hall where the meeting was to take place, the sharp scent of ice and sweat lingering in the air. Athletes from every sport clustered in small groups—track stars in their sleek gear, swimmers with damp hair, gymnasts stretching in corners, and, of course, the ever-rowdy hockey team, their laughter echoing off the walls. The hockey players were unmistakable—broad-shouldered, loud, and dripping with confidence. They were the university's golden boys, celebrated for their aggressive plays and championship wins.
Scanning the room, Tris groaned inwardly. The only empty seat was right next to the one person she had no interest in sitting beside—Tobias "Four" Eaton himself. Tall, broad-shouldered, with an air of quiet confidence that made people gravitate toward him. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and those piercing blue eyes… they scanned the room with a kind of detached interest, like he was above it all.
With no other options, Tris dropped into the seat beside him, her skates clinking as they hit the floor. She didn't bother to hide her annoyance.
"Don't worry," Tobias said without looking at her, his voice smooth as ever. "I don't bite."
"Pity," Tris shot back, crossing her arms. "I was hoping for something more entertaining than this meeting."
His eyes flicked down to the skates slung over her shoulder, then back up to meet her glare. "Didn't know figure skaters carried blades like that."
Tris arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Didn't know hockey players mistook speed for style," she shot back, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. "But here we are."
A flicker of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Feisty," he mused. "Speed skating, huh? Didn't peg you for the type to run in circles."
"Better circles than chasing a puck like it owes me money," she snapped, her gray eyes glinting with challenge.
Before he could retort, one of his teammates swaggered over, his grin lazy and eyes raking over Tris in a way that made her skin crawl.
"Hey, sweetheart," the teammate drawled, "why don't you come watch us play sometime? Bet you'd like the view."
Tris's lips curled into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Only if watching grown men fall on their faces counts as entertainment."
The teammate's grin faltered, but before he could respond, Tobias stepped in, his expression darkening. "Go bother someone else, Mason."
Mason raised his hands in mock surrender, but the gleam in his eye said he'd remember this. "Relax, Eaton. Just having a little fun."
As Mason sauntered off, Tris turned back to Tobias, her gaze sharp. "If you think playing knight in shining armor gets you anywhere, save it. I'm not interested."
"Good," Tobias replied smoothly, his blue eyes locking onto hers. "I'm not a knight. And I don't do shining."
Before she could come up with a retort, the Dean's voice boomed through the hall, calling everyone to attention. Tris turned away from Tobias, but she could still feel his gaze on her, like a warm, insistent pressure against her skin.
As the Dean droned on about inter-sport cooperation and shared resources, Tris found it hard to focus. Her mind kept drifting back to Tobias—to the unexpected spark in his eyes, the way his presence seemed to fill the room.
She had no time for distractions. She reminded herself of that as the meeting wrapped up and athletes began to disperse. But when she glanced over her shoulder, Tobias was still watching her, his gaze steady and unwavering.
As they exited the auditorium, Tobias nudged his friend Zeke, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. "Hey, who's the speed skater?"
Zeke nearly choked on his laugh. "You're kidding, right?" When Tobias didn't respond, Zeke shook his head, incredulous. "That's Tris Prior. She's got two world championship titles in her pocket. Where have you been?"
Tobias blinked, genuinely surprised. World champion, huh? That explained the confidence. But it didn't explain why he couldn't get her out of his head.
The ice had always been Tobias Eaton's domain. The crisp, biting chill of the rink, the rhythmic scrape of blades cutting into the surface—it grounded him. Here, on the ice, there was no space for distraction. Just the game, his team, and the relentless drive to win.
At least, that's how it had always been.
Until tonight.
After the meeting in the auditorium, Tobias couldn't shake Tris Prior from his head.
There was something about her—something beyond the sharp comebacks and unimpressed glares. She wasn't like the other athletes at Dauntless University. She didn't bask in the camaraderie or feed off the attention like the hockey players did. She moved through the world like she had a mission, and everyone else was just noise.
By the time Tobias got back to his room, curiosity gnawed at him like an itch he couldn't scratch. He sat at his desk, staring at the ceiling, replaying their exchange in the auditorium over and over. Didn't peg you for the type to run in circles. The words echoed in his head, tinged with that smug little smirk she'd thrown his way.
Finally, he gave in.
Grabbing his phone, he typed Tris Prior speed skater into the search bar, expecting maybe a couple of local articles or a highlight reel from some university meets.
What popped up made him sit up straighter.
Articles. Interviews. Podium photos. She wasn't just good—she was a phenomenon. Two-time world champion. National record holder. Sponsored by brands that only touched the best of the best. Video clips showed her cutting through international tracks like the ice owed her something, her competitors left floundering in her wake. She wasn't just fast; she was lethal.
Tobias scrolled through picture after picture—Tris standing on podiums, gold medals gleaming against her chest, her expression a mix of fierce pride and something else. Something sharper. Most athletes beamed in those photos, surrounded by their teams or families. But not her. She was almost always alone. No entourage. No wide smiles. Just her and the win.
He leaned back in his chair, phone still in hand, eyebrows raised. How the hell have I never heard of her?
But then again, it made sense. From the look of her travel schedule, she'd been bouncing around the globe for competitions. She wasn't the type to hang out at campus parties or loiter in the dining hall. She was too busy conquering the world, one rink at a time.
Still, it bugged him.
Because now that he knew who she was, he couldn't stop wondering why someone like her—someone who had already achieved so much—was here, at Dauntless University.
And why the hell he couldn't get her out of his head
Practice that evening was supposed to snap him out of it.
It didn't.
As Tobias entered the arena, gear slung over his shoulder, his usual tunnel vision splintered the second he spotted her. The speed-skating track circled above the rink, a clear ribbon of ice gleaming under the overhead lights. And there she was—Tris Prior, a streak of blonde and steel, cutting through the loop like she owned it.
She moved like a force of nature. Her body low and aerodynamic, each stride powerful and precise. Her skates whispered against the ice, leaving clean, sharp lines in her wake. Tobias found himself standing at the bottom of the stairs, completely rooted to the spot.
But it wasn't just her speed that held his attention—it was the intensity. She skated like the world fell away beneath her blades, like she was outrunning something only she could see.
Then, he noticed her coach.
The man stood at the edge of the track, arms crossed, voice slicing through the arena. "Faster, Prior! Your turns are sloppy—you're losing seconds!"
Tobias squinted, watching her closely. But from where he stood, there was nothing wrong. If anything, her form was flawless. Every stride was a masterclass in efficiency, every corner a display of control.
What the hell is he seeing that I'm not?
But he didn't have long to ponder it.
Because the next thing he knew, his foot caught on the edge of the stair, and gravity did the rest.
He landed with a loud crash, sticks clattering against the ground, his helmet rolling a humiliating few feet away. Laughter erupted from his teammates, sharp and merciless, but Tobias barely heard them over the rush of blood in his ears.
Because she saw.
Up on the track, Tris had slowed, her gaze locked onto him.
Then, she smirked.
From where she hovered above, her voice rang out, sweet and mocking.
"Need a lesson on how to stay on your feet, Eaton?"
His teammates howled with laughter, but Tobias just grinned, shaking his head as he picked himself up, brushing the dust off his pride.
"Don't get cocky, Prior." He called up, voice steady despite the flush creeping up his neck. "You might be fast, but you're not untouchable."
Tris arched a brow, her lips twitching in amusement. "I am fast," she agreed, skating backward as if to emphasize her point, moving effortlessly. "And you? You just fell walking. So, I think I win this round."
A low chuckle escaped him. Okay, she was good.
Before he could respond, the coach's whistle cut through the air, dragging Tobias back to the present. With a final glance up at her, he jogged onto the ice, slipping seamlessly into his element.
But his focus was shot to hell.
Because every few minutes, his eyes drifted back to the track, where she was still moving, still cutting through the ice like a force of nature. And it wasn't just him who noticed.
"Damn," Zeke muttered beside him as they took a break at the bench. "Didn't realize the speed skaters trained this late. Is she always that fast?"
Tobias didn't respond. He didn't need to.
His silence said enough.
But then Mason—fucking Mason—leaned forward, grinning as he followed Tobias's gaze.
"She's got nice legs," he remarked, his tone all smug arrogance. "Think she'd be interested in grabbing a drink after practice?"
Something flared hot in Tobias's chest. He didn't analyze it. Didn't want to analyze it. Instead, he scowled.
"Yeah, try that," he said flatly. "She'll gut you in under five seconds."
Mason chuckled, clearly unbothered. "Feisty? I like it."
Tobias clenched his jaw and turned his attention back to the ice, tuning out the rest of Mason's comments.
It wasn't his problem.
Except, he didn't like the idea of Mason—or anyone—thinking Tris Prior was just some girl they could hit on and collect like a trophy.
He exhaled sharply, shaking it off.
Focus.
The next play started, and he forced himself back into the game.
By the time practice ended, Tobias's muscles were burning, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.
Most of his teammates had cleared out, towels slung over their shoulders, their laughter fading as they hit the showers. But Tobias lingered at the rink's edge, his gaze drifting up to the track.
She was still there.
Her coach had left halfway through practice, but Tris hadn't stopped. She kept going, lap after relentless lap, her breath visible in the cold air. It was like she didn't know how to quit.
Or maybe she didn't want to.
Before he could stop himself, Tobias called out, his voice cutting through the quiet arena.
"You know," he said, leaning on his stick, "I bet I could give you a run for your money."
Tris coasted to a stop near the barrier, her cheeks flushed from exertion but her eyes sharp and amused. She didn't look tired. If anything, she looked more alive than ever.
"You?" She laughed, shaking her head. "Eaton, you can't even skate without chasing a puck. You think that makes you fast?"
Tobias grinned, stepping closer to the barrier. "It makes me fast and agile. Speed isn't everything if you don't have control."
Tris leaned on the barrier, her gray eyes locking onto his. "Control?" she echoed, her lips curling into a smirk. "Please. Hockey players are just speed skaters with bad aim."
That got him.
"Oh, is that how it is?" Tobias shot back, his grin widening. "Fine. Let's settle it."
Tris's brow arched. "Settle what?"
"Who's better on skates," Tobias said, his voice dropping into a challenge. "You and me. One-on-one. We'll come up with a series of challenges. Speed, control, agility—the whole deal."
Tris tilted her head, considering him. "And what do you get if you win?"
The words slipped out before he could even think about them. "If I win, you let me take you out for a drink."
That caught her off guard. For a second, Tris blinked, clearly thrown, before recovering with a snort.
"And if I win?" she asked, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion.
Tobias crossed his arms, cocky grin spreading across his face. "Name your terms."
Tris's smile turned wicked, and Tobias immediately regretted giving her that freedom.
"If I win," she said sweetly, "you wear a tutu to your next four practices."
Tobias's mouth twitched, and he let out a low chuckle. "A tutu?"
"Pink," she added, deadly serious.
He shook his head, laughing. "You're ruthless."
Tris shrugged, that smirk still in place. "You brought this on yourself, Eaton."
He extended his hand across the barrier, the spark of their touch lingering longer than it should have. "Deal."
But as she started to skate away, she tossed one last remark over her shoulder.
"By the way," she called, her voice laced with mock innocence, "if this is your idea of flirting, you should probably quit while you're ahead. I'm not interested."
Tobias's grin didn't fade. Not even a little.
"If you weren't interested," he called back, his voice low and smug, "you'd have left a long time ago."
Tris paused for a heartbeat—just enough for him to know he'd hit a nerve—before skating off without another word.
Tobias watched her go, the grin lingering on his face as he gathered his gear.
What the hell are you getting yourself into, Eaton?
But he already knew.
And he couldn't wait.
