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Opposites don’t just attract — they collide, spark, and catch fire.

Of all the years, it had to be this one.

Asha tugged at her gloves, glaring at David across the rink. “Don’t fall,” he smirked.

“I won’t,” she shot back, skating ahead.

She hated him — his flawless spreadsheets, his crisp remarks at meetings, the way he always seemed to slide in one second ahead of her at client presentations. Somehow, no matter how much effort she poured into being one step ahead, David Ply was already there. It was exhausting.

And yet, here they were, stuck at the office holiday outing.

Asha hadn’t even planned to come. She’d spent half the week drafting a polite excuse for HR, something about family obligations. But the head of marketing had cornered her at the coffee machine that morning.

“You’ll come, right?” Jane’s tone was too light, too pointed. “David says you’re competitive. I bet you’ll show him up on the ice.”

Of course, David had said something.

By the time she realized what was happening, she’d agreed, and there was no backing out without it looking like surrender.

Now, she was gliding across the rink, as far away from him as the oval of ice allowed.

David, annoyingly graceful, traced lazy circles behind her.

It didn’t help that he looked like he belonged in one of those winter rom-coms — sleek black coat, perfectly knotted scarf, and that ever-present air of being slightly amused at everything she did.

“Race you,” his voice carried over the music.

“No.”

“You’re scared.”

Asha’s heart thudded. Leap, and the net will appear.

She took off, pushing harder than she should have, and the ice betrayed her. One wobbly ankle later, her world tilted.

Powerful hands caught her waist.

“See? I won’t let you fall.”

She — stopped — breathing, blinked and pushed away.

The rink slowly emptied as colleagues migrated to the hot chocolate stand by the entrance. Asha lingered on the ice, skating slow laps while David hovered nearby.

She should have headed inside, but pride anchored her in place. Leaving first would feel like conceding something, and Asha Jordan did not concede.

David drifted closer. “You know, you’re not as bad at this as you pretend to be.”

Asha side-eyed him. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“Good thing you’re getting it for free.”

She glared at him, but the heat in her chest wasn’t anger, and that was the most frustrating part. There had been a time when David was just another name on the company roster — a polished newcomer who kept to himself. But somewhere along the line, their interactions had shifted.

It had started small. The passive-aggressive email corrections. The sly comments during meetings. The smirk that crept across his face whenever she accidentally echoed his suggestions during brainstorming sessions.

He had this way of making her feel like she was playing catch-up, even when she wasn’t.

And she hated how much she noticed him.

“Why do you even care if I skate or not?” Asha finally asked, crossing her arms.

David leaned against the rink wall, the faintest grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Because watching you try to avoid me is the highlight of my evening.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

They stood in silence, the city lights glittering around them, soft snow drifting down like something out of a movie.

Asha hated how picturesque the moment was.

David shifted closer, voice lowering. “It’s not a competition, you know.”

“Feels like one.”

“That’s because you make everything into one.”

Her head snapped toward him, ready to argue, but the look in his eyes stopped her. He wasn’t teasing. He was just… there. Looking at her like he knew exactly what she was about to say.

Her breath hitched. “Maybe I like the competition.”

“Maybe I like the way you look when you’re winning.”

Asha blinked, caught between disbelief and something warmer, softer. David wasn’t smirking now. He was just watching her, waiting.

The snow kept falling. The world shrank down to the two of them.

“Hot chocolate?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

She exhaled, relieved and annoyed. “Fine. But if you make one joke about me almost falling, I’m pushing you into the path of an e-bike.”

David chuckled, offering his arm as they stepped off the ice. “Deal.”

Somewhere between the ice and the warm cup of cocoa pressed into her hands, Asha wondered if maybe, just maybe, she didn’t hate him as much as she thought.

© Scarlet Ibis James, 2024/2025: All Rights Reserved.

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