AN - And another chapter! I hope you guys like it so far. Fanfiction is acting strange; my story keeps disappearing, so I hope that doesn't cause too much trouble for you guys and that it's still readable :)

Enjoy reading and let me know what you think of the story!

Chapter 2

Tris Prior didn't lose. Not in races. Not in bets. Not in life.

Her world was a carefully controlled series of speed, precision, and focus—variables she could manipulate, perfect, master. The rink was her sanctuary, the place where everything made sense, where the ice answered to her and nothing else mattered.

She skated harder, trained longer, pushed past limits that would break most people. Because that's what champions did.

And Tris Prior was a champion.

So why the hell had she agreed to some ridiculous skating challenge against Tobias Eaton on Friday?

The question had been eating at her ever since the words left her mouth, bouncing around her head like an out-of-control puck. Now, hours later, she was sprawled out on the floor of her studio, staring up at the ceiling, searching for an answer that refused to come.

She hadn't thought. That was the problem. Tobias had looked at her with those sharp blue eyes, full of challenge and certainty, like he knew she wouldn't back down. Like he had already won before she even had the chance to say no.

And instead of rolling her eyes and walking away like she should have, her mouth had betrayed her.

"Yes."

She groaned, dragging her hands down her face, trying to scrub the memory away. It was so unlike her. She didn't get caught up in petty games. She didn't make impulsive decisions.

And she sure as hell didn't let guys like Tobias Eaton get under her skin.

From the moment she met him, she knew exactly what kind of guy he was. Cocky. Arrogant. Infuriating. The type who walked through life like he owned the place, who didn't need to chase things because things came to him. Girls. Attention. Success.

She'd spent her whole life avoiding guys like that.

Her focus was on the Olympics.

She was in her fourth year of college, juggling a degree in sports psychology with a training schedule so intense that it left no room for distractions. While other students were out drinking at parties, sleeping in until noon, going on impromptu road trips, she was on a plane to the next competition. She was on the ice, chasing a dream that required everything she had.

She didn't do late-night Taco Bell runs. She didn't do relationships. And she definitely didn't do Tobias Eaton's stupid games.

So why had she said yes?

The worst part? She didn't even have a good excuse.

It wasn't like she didn't know exactly what he was.

He was the golden boy of the hockey team, a name that carried weight far beyond their college. He had pro team offers stacked on his desk, waiting for him to pick whichever one he wanted. He was the best player this school had ever had. The guy men wanted to be and women wanted to be with.

A sharp knock on her door pulled her out of her spiral.

Tris and Christina had their own separate studios, small creative sanctuaries on campus where they spent most of their time. They weren't massive—just big enough to work, to exist, to shut out the rest of the world—but they shared a hallway, which meant that no matter how much Tris wanted to disappear sometimes, Christina was always just a few steps away.

And thank God for that. Because Christina was also the only real friend Tris had here.

"Hey, ice queen," Christina's voice rang through the door, teasing as always. "You coming out of your cave anytime soon, or are you just gonna lie there and sulk all night?"

Tris groaned, pushing herself up from the floor. She dragged her feet to the door, swinging it open to find Christina leaning against the frame, a bowl of popcorn in one hand, a knowing smirk on her face.

"You've been weird all week," Christina said, pushing past her into the studio like she owned the place. She flopped onto the couch, popping a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "What's going on? And don't even try to say nothing, because I've known you long enough to know that's a lie."

Tris hesitated, arms crossed, staring at the floor like it might save her from answering.

"I said yes to something stupid," she muttered.

Christina snorted. "Okay, define stupid. Because you say yes to, like, nothing, so this has to be good."

Tris sighed, rubbing a hand down her face before finally admitting, "A skating challenge. With Tobias Eaton."

Silence.

Then—

Christina choked on her popcorn.

Tris shot her a glare as she coughed dramatically, laughing in between gasps for air. "Wait." Christina wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "You mean the Tobias Eaton? The guy who thinks he's God's gift to hockey? That Tobias Eaton?"

Tris groaned, flopping onto the couch beside her. "Yes. That Tobias Eaton."

"Oh my God," Christina snorted. "You hate guys like that. What, did he flash those baby blues at you and you just melted?"

"Shut up."

Christina smirked, eyes gleaming. "What do you even know about him?"

Tris hesitated, then shook her head. "Not much. Just that he's an arrogant ass."

Christina grinned. "Oh, babe. You have no idea."

She tossed another handful of popcorn into her mouth before continuing. "Tobias Eaton is the guy on campus. Girls are desperate for his attention and he's probably got half the NHL knocking on his door, waiting for him to graduate. Coaches worship him, he's the best player this school's ever had, and if he wasn't so damn annoying, I'd almost be impressed."

Tris rolled her eyes. "Sounds about right."

"But," Christina added, lowering her voice like she was about to share top-secret intel, "here's the weird part. For someone who could have literally any girl he wants, I've never actually seen him with anyone."

Tris frowned. "Seriously?"

Christina nodded, leaning in. "Swear to God. No girlfriend, no flings, nothing. Either he's insanely private, or—" she wiggled her eyebrows "—the rumors are true."

Tris raised an eyebrow. "Which rumors?"

Christina grinned. "Take your pick. Some people think he's secretly gay. Others say he's having some torrid affair with one of his professors. There's even one that says he's been dating some girl long-distance for years, but, like, no one has proof."

Tris tried to ignore the way something inside her twisted at that.

She shouldn't care. She really shouldn't.

But now she was curious.

And that was a problem.

Because she didn't need to be thinking about Tobias Eaton and his mysterious love life.

She needed to focus. The Olympics weren't going to wait while she got distracted by some ridiculously handsome hockey player with too many secrets and an ego the size of the rink.

And yet, as she leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling once again, she couldn't stop the question from creeping into her mind.

Why the hell had she said yes?

And worse…

Why was she looking forward to it?

By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, Tris had almost convinced herself she didn't care.

Almost.

She'd spent the entire day burying herself in training and classes, forcing her focus onto things that actually mattered. She went through the motions—weights, sprints, conditioning—like she wasn't just waiting for the hours to pass, for the inevitable moment when she'd have to face Tobias Eaton on the ice.

The final bell rang, signalling the end of her last class, and Tris barely had time to shove her laptop into her bag before Christina appeared out of nowhere, grinning like she'd been waiting for this exact moment all day.

"So," Christina said, slinging an arm around Tris's shoulders as they walked out of the lecture hall. "Tell me, how does it feel knowing you're about to crush Tobias Eaton's soul?"

Tris rolled her eyes, adjusting her duffel bag on her shoulder. "I feel like I should be at the gym or, you know, actually doing something productive instead of entertaining his ego."

"But you're still going," Christina pointed out, wiggling her eyebrows.

Tris didn't dignify that with a response.

They stepped outside, the crisp late autumn air biting against Tris's skin, making her shiver beneath her jacket. The sun was already starting to dip behind the buildings, casting long shadows over campus. Most students were heading off to start their weekend—parties, dates, football games, whatever normal college students did.

Not Tris.

No, she was heading to an empty rink to race a cocky hockey player for reasons she still hadn't figured out.

"You're coming, right?" Tris asked, turning to Christina.

"Hell no," Christina said, laughing. "I mean, I would, but someone has to get the inside scoop from the guys. You know his entire team is already taking bets on this?"

Tris groaned. "Of course they are."

"Apparently, half of them think Tobias is going to win—"

Tris shot her a deadpan look.

"—but the other half is convinced you're going to wipe the ice with him," Christina added quickly. "Personally, I'm hoping you make him cry."

Tris smirked. "That would be satisfying."

Christina nudged her. "Go kick his ass. And if you get the chance, trip him."

Tris shook her head with a laugh, turning toward the rink as Christina peeled off toward the dorms.

The rink was quiet, which wasn't surprising. Friday afternoons were the one time of the week when the ice was completely free—no practices, no team drills, no coaches screaming at their players. Most of the athletes were either in the weight room, resting up before the weekend games, or out doing something stupid before the Friday night party scene took over.

And then there was Tobias Eaton, apparently bored enough to organize a private race just to prove a point.

Tris spotted him immediately. He was leaning against the entrance, spinning a set of keys around his finger like he was just waiting for her.

Because, of course, he had the damn keys.

Tris slowed her steps, immediately irritated. "You have keys to the rink?"

Tobias turned at the sound of her voice, flashing that infuriating, dimpled grin. "I have connections."

"You mean you annoyed the rink manager until they gave you a copy," Tris deadpanned.

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I would never." Then, with a smirk, he unlocked the door and held it open for her. "After you, Prior."

Tris walked past him, stepping into the cold, familiar space, the smell of ice and metal settling around her. She'd spent most of her life in rinks like this—early mornings, late nights, every single spare second spent training. It was muscle memory, second nature.

This? This was her space.

And yet, somehow, Tobias Eaton still managed to take up all the oxygen in the room.

She heard the door lock behind them as he jogged ahead, skates slung over his shoulder, moving with the kind of effortless confidence that made her itch to beat him.

Tris dropped her bag onto the bench and pulled out her skates, watching as Tobias did the same. His movements were casual, too easy, like he didn't have a single doubt in the world. Like he hadn't bet his dignity on this race.

She smirked, shaking her head. "I still can't believe you agreed to the tutu."

Tobias let out a short laugh, lacing up his skates with zero hesitation. "I won't need to wear it."

Tris raised an eyebrow. "That's a lot of confidence for someone who's about to be humiliated."

Tobias grinned. "Let's be real, Prior. Even if I did lose, I'd make that tutu look good."

Tris rolled her eyes, ignoring the way her lips twitched. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're stalling," Tobias shot back.

Tris exhaled sharply, shoving her foot into her skate and yanking the laces tight. The truth was, she wasn't worried about losing—because she wasn't going to.

What she was worried about was… him.

Tobias Eaton had a way of getting into people's heads. Not just in the way he played, but in the way he carried himself. Confident. Unshakable. Annoyingly charismatic.

And even though Tris was usually immune to that kind of thing, she knew Tobias thrived on getting under people's skin.

He was probably counting on her to be the one to crack.

Not happening.

She finished tying up her skates, standing in one smooth motion. "Hope you stretched, Eaton. Wouldn't want you to pull something."

Tobias grinned, standing too, rolling his shoulders like he was warming up for a game. "I'm good. But, uh—" He smirked, eyes flicking over her. "Should I be worried? You look a little nervous."

Tris scoffed. "Please."

He leaned in slightly. "You sure? You've been thinking about me all week."

Her head snapped toward him. "Excuse me?"

Tobias just grinned, lacing up his skates like he hadn't just said something infuriating. "I mean, I'm flattered, really. It's cute."

Tris clenched her jaw. "I have not been thinking about you."

Tobias gave her a look. "Right. That's why you said yes, right?"

Tris huffed. "I said yes because I wanted to shut you up."

"And yet, here we are."

She exhaled slowly through her nose. "You're incredibly annoying."

"And you're incredibly fun to annoy."

Tris grabbed her gloves, pulling them on with practiced ease, already mentally locking in.

This wasn't about him. This wasn't about the way he smirked or the way he carried himself like he already knew the outcome.

This was about winning.

Tobias grabbed a puck from the box near the goal, spinning it between his fingers. "Alright, Prior. Speed first?"

Tris smirked. "Obviously."

Their eyes met—both of them practically vibrating with anticipation, neither willing to back down.

No more questions. No more overthinking.

Just her, him, and the ice.

And she was about to prove to Tobias Eaton that he had no idea what he just signed up for.

The rink was quiet, the hum of the cooling system the only sound filling the empty space.

Tris crouched at the starting line, her muscles taut, ready, waiting. The ice stretched out before her, pristine, untouched, the overhead lights reflecting off its glassy surface.

Tobias stood beside her, too relaxed, too at ease, like he wasn't about to embarrass himself in front of her. His hoodie was unzipped, sleeves pushed up, his skates already digging into the ice, shifting his weight back and forth like he was just warming up.

Tris smirked. "You sure you can handle this?"

Tobias grinned, rolling his shoulders. "Worried, Prior?"

She scoffed, adjusting her gloves. "Just don't cry when you lose."

His smirk deepened. "Wouldn't dream of it."

He raised a hand, signaling the countdown.

"Three…"

Tris inhaled, steadying herself.

"Two…"

Her fingers curled into fists, her skates biting into the ice, bracing.

"One—go."

She exploded forward, her body low and powerful, her skates slicing through the ice with precision honed from years of training.

The cold air whipped against her skin, sharp and biting, the wind roaring past her ears as she accelerated.

She pulled ahead instantly.

Of course she did.

This was her domain, her strength, the thing she had spent years perfecting. Tobias was a hockey player—strong, fast for his sport, sure—but he wasn't a speed skater. He wasn't built for this.

She took the first turn with perfect form, her inside blade cutting deep, sending her surging forward.

And then—

She heard him.

Not falling behind.

Keeping up.

She flicked a glance over her shoulder, expecting to see him floundering—but he wasn't.

He was right there, not nearly as fast as her—but fast.

Faster than he had any right to be.

His strides weren't as fluid, but they were powerful, each push driving him forward, his balance rock-solid. He wasn't skating the way she did—light and effortless—but he knew how to use his strength, his momentum, keeping up with her in a way that sent something sharp and electric zipping down her spine.

She grit her teeth and dug in deeper, forcing her body to go faster, to push past the limits she had set for herself.

By the final stretch, she had pulled ahead again, widening the gap just enough to win.

She skidded to a stop in a spray of ice, chest heaving.

Tobias stopped beside her, breathless but grinning.

"Shit," he panted, hands braced on his hips. "You're insane."

Tris smirked, still buzzing from the rush, still feeling the heat of competition in her veins. "You're not bad for a hockeyplayer" she admitted.

His grin widened. "I knew you were fast, but damn, Prior."

She pulled off her gloves, flexing her fingers. "Still beat you."

"Barely."

She shot him a look. "A win is a win."

He exhaled, shaking his head. "Alright. One round down."

He nodded toward the slalom course. "Let's see how you handle control."

Tris followed, still buzzing from the race, still feeling the heat of his presence beside her.

She had expected to win.

She hadn't expected to be impressed.

The cones were spaced tightly across the ice, forming a winding path that required sharp, controlled turns, flawless edge work, and absolute precision.

Tobias skated backward, arms crossed. "Want me to go easy on you?"

Tris rolled her eyes, adjusting the fit of her gloves. "Try to keep up, Eaton."

Then she was off.

Her skates glided through the course with effortless control, her turns tight, sharp, perfect.

She let her body take over, her instincts honed from years of edge drills, balance training, muscle memory that refused to fail her.

She reached the end without a single misstep.

Tobias let out a low whistle. "Not bad."

She smirked. "Not bad?"

His eyes glinted. "Alright, fine. That was insanely good."

He took his place at the starting line, rolling his neck.

Then—he launched forward.

Tris expected him to be good.

She hadn't expected him to be this good.

His skating style was different—sharper, rougher, more aggressive.

Where Tris used precision, Tobias used power, his turns deep, cutting into the ice with force that shouldn't have worked—but did.

She hated how good it looked.

But then—

His stick clipped one of the cones, sending it skidding across the ice.

Tris grinned. "You were saying?"

Tobias exhaled, skating toward her, shaking his head. "That was bullshit."

"You hit a cone."

"Barely."

She patted his shoulder. "It still counts."

He groaned, but there was a smirk tugging at his lips. "Alright, Prior. Last round."

By the time they reached the final round—endurance—the stakes felt higher than ever. This wasn't just about winning anymore. This was about proving something neither of them could quite put into words.

The rules were simple: a flat-out sprint around the rink, over and over, until one of them couldn't keep up. No tricks. No shortcuts. Just pure, brutal stamina.

They started strong, both of them pushing hard, refusing to give the other an inch. Tobias's legs burned with exertion, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts, but he kept going, matching Tris lap for lap.

But then, he saw it.

The shift.

Tris's jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing with that same fierce determination he'd seen in those videos. She pushed harder, her body cutting through the ice with renewed speed, her form tightening into something almost inhuman.

And that's when Tobias realized—she's going too fast.

Before he could react, Tris lost her balance coming out of a tight turn. Her skate caught the edge of the ice, and for a split second, Tobias saw it—saw her trajectory, the inevitable crash into the glass.

Without thinking, he lunged forward, abandoning all sense of competition, and caught her just before she slammed into the boards. The momentum sent them both sprawling onto the ice, a tangled mess of limbs and ragged breaths.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Tris let out a breathless laugh, her head resting against his chest. "You're… such an idiot."

Tobias grinned, his heart still racing—not just from the near-crash, but from how close she was. "Yeah, well, you're welcome."

She pushed herself up, her cheeks flushed, but not from the fall. "I had it under control."

"Sure you did."

They stared at each other, the unspoken tension crackling like a live wire between them.

Then Tris stood, brushing herself off, her grin triumphant. "Well, Eaton… looks like I win."

Tobias groaned, dragging himself to his feet, but there was no bitterness in his voice. Just admiration. "Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your victory, Prior."

She smirked, skating backward toward the bench. "Don't forget the tutu."

Later, as they packed up their gear, Tris still felt the adrenaline buzzing beneath her skin.

It wasn't just from the race—it was from him.

Tobias Eaton was… unexpected.

She had gone into this challenge thinking it would be easy, that she would wipe the ice with him and be done with it. But he had kept up. He had pushed her in a way no one ever had—not in practice, not in competition, not in anything.

And for some reason, that intrigued her.

She wasn't used to being challenged outside of the rink. She was used to being the best, used to people knowing exactly where they stood when they went up against her. But Tobias hadn't just challenged her on the ice—he challenged her, period.

And maybe… maybe she didn't hate it.

Tobias slung his bag over his shoulder, stretching his arms behind his head like he wasn't completely exhausted from the last hour. Like the race hadn't drained him. Like he hadn't just lost.

Then, too casually, he said, "We're having a party at the hockey house tonight."

Tris barely looked up as she shoved her skates into her bag.

"A party?" she repeated, skeptical.

Tobias smirked, his voice light but calculated, like he was throwing it out just to see how she'd react. "You should come."

Tris blinked.

A party.

That wasn't her scene. It had never been her scene.

She didn't do loud music, sticky floors, crowded rooms packed with sweaty people shouting over each other. She didn't do drunken small talk or wasted athletes bragging about their stats in a too-small kitchen.

She trained. She competed. She went home.

She had never even been to a college party.

And it wasn't like she had time to start now. She had training in the morning, a sports psych paper to finish, and an Olympic dream that didn't include making bad decisions at some hockey house party.

But.

It was her last year.

Her last chance to experience any of it.

Would it be the worst thing in the world if, just for one night, she did something completely out of character?

She hated how much she was actually considering it.

Tobias noticed her hesitation. His smirk widened. "A party, Prior. You know, socializing? Fun? Or do you only come alive when you're humiliating me in a race?"

She snorted, shoving her bag over her shoulder. "You humiliated yourself. I just let you."

Tobias let out a low, amused laugh, shifting his weight like he was enjoying this far too much. "Consider it a consolation prize. You know, since you feel bad about me losing and all."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't feel bad."

"Oh, come on," he teased, leaning in slightly. "Admit it. You'd miss me in that tutu."

She huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. "It's tragic, really. A loss like that? It deserves proper recognition."

Tobias lifted a brow. "Proper recognition?"

She gave him a slow, mocking smile. "Obviously. How else will everyone know that I completely wiped the ice with you? You'd probably downplay it if I wasn't there to remind people."

Tobias grinned, tilting his head like he was actually considering her logic. "So you're coming?"

She hesitated.

Just for a second.

Every part of her knew she should say no. That she should turn around, go home, and forget this ridiculous challenge ever happened.

But she wasn't sure she wanted to.

Tobias intrigued her. He challenged her.

And maybe she wasn't ready to walk away from that just yet.

She sighed, standing and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Fine."

Tobias blinked, like he hadn't actually expected her to agree. "Yeah?"

She smirked right back. "Yeah. But only because I feel bad about you losing. Someone has to make sure your fragile ego survives the night."

Tobias let out another low chuckle, shaking his head. "You're ruthless."

She grinned, already heading for the door. "You love it."

Tobias scoffed, slinging his bag higher on his shoulder as he fell into step beside her. "I think you just love giving me attention, Prior."

Tris snorted, shoving the door open. "Keep dreaming, Eaton."

Tobias smirked, leaning in just slightly as they stepped into the cool night air. "Oh, I will. Try not to miss me too much before then."

Tris rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she walked away.

And yet, for some reason, she was still smiling.

AN- Love to hear your thoughts