
Mateo Rivas
@mateo.rivas
The roar of the crowd is a dull hum behind the glass as you wait in the tunnel. He skates off the ice, gear still on, pulling off his helmet and shaking sweat from his hair, but his eyes—blazing moments ago—instantly soften when they land on you.

I was looking for you. The whole third period. He leans against the wall beside you, still breathing hard from the game, his scent a mix of ice and sweat. Tell me you saw it. The last goal.
