The Illusion Of Us

(TWIST) CHAPTER TWO

Before the sun cast its first light over the horizon, Ava was already in the warmth of her kitchen, whisking and folding, her hands skillfully crafting strawberry cream puffs and chocolate croissants. She imagined the smiles these pastries would bring to Fred and his teammates, worn from their relentless practice sessions at the school's ice rink in preparation for the state-level hockey championship. They were pouring their hearts into a grueling schedule—eight in the morning until noon, and four in the afternoon until evening.

Sympathy stirred in Ava as she thought of their dedication and fatigue. She wanted to offer a small gesture of support, a token of sweetness to lift their spirits. With care, she packaged the freshly baked goods and made her way to the school, arriving just past eight.

The ice rink was quiet, save for the sound of Fred, alone on the ice, practicing his shots with a determined intensity. Ava paused at the edge of the rink, captivated by the sight of Fred in his element. His hockey uniform clung to him in all the right places, accentuating the lean muscles that worked with each powerful stride. There was an undeniable allure in his focused demeanor, the way his hair, damp from exertion, peeked out from under his helmet, and how his breath misted in the cold air with every calculated exhale.

With each slap of the puck, he moved with a natural, practiced ease, a smooth glide over the ice that made the difficult look effortless. His movements were sharp and precise, the kind that came from innate talent honed by uncountable hours of dedication. The ice was his domain, and he was its undisputed master, exuding a cool confidence that was nothing short of magnetic.

The puck flew from his stick to the goal net with a speed and accuracy that spoke of raw talent and disciplined training. Fred's presence on the ice was electric, the sheer power and agility with which he played left no doubt of his proficiency in the game. He was the kind of player who drew eyes without trying—the epitome of cool in the world of high school hockey.

Moving silently to avoid interrupting, she accidentally dropped her phone with a clatter that reverberated against the glass and ice. 

"Good morning, beautiful!" Fred called out, flashing a grin as he glided over, the smooth blades of his skates cutting a path to her. "When did you get here?"

Ava offered a smile, soft and a little shy. "Just now. I hope I didn't interrupt your focus," she said, her eyes briefly meeting his before skimming the empty rink. "Where's the rest of the team?"

Fred shrugged, a casual grace in his movements as he stopped at the gate and unlatched it to join her. "You? A disturbance? Never," he said, his tone light, the warmth in his eyes belying the joke. "They're dragging their feet today, won't be here till nine. They're wiped out from last night's practice. I guess sleep was too tempting for them." He chuckled, a sound that filled the space with ease.

"What brings you here?"

Ava, flushed from the unintended entrance, returned his smile. "I just thought... you guys could use some treats after all the hard work you've been putting in." She motioned to the boxes she'd brought.

Fred's eyes gleamed with delight as he peered into the boxes. "You didn't... is that...?" He trailed off, hope coloring his tone.

With a nod, Ava opened the boxes fully, revealing the pastries arranged like jewels inside. "Your favorites," she confirmed. "Strawberry cream puffs and chocolate croissants."

Fred's eyes lit up like the morning sun glinting off fresh ice as he savored the homemade pastries. "Ava, these are amazing," he exclaimed after taking a bite, his appreciation evident in the way he closed his eyes, savoring the taste. "You've really outdone yourself. They're perfect—flaky, just the right amount of sweetness, and the strawberries are so fresh!"