She held the hockey stick, knuckles white in his calloused palm. Cold stinging rink air slapped against her face—his face—when she rode skates, blades digging into uneven tracks on which they floated. The rink was a cave of ice, the tall ceiling devouring the thwacks of pucks and yelling of Ethan's teammates. Seared across the top of her in bold block letters was a championship banner: "Wildcats, 2024." Seven days to the championship game, and she barely stood. Coach Dan blew a whistle. "Parker! Move!" he bellowed, always holding his clipboard. Lily's heart was racing. She was Ethan Parker, team captain, supposed to be practicing drills, not staggering like a fawn. Her teammates whizzed by her, sticks cracking pucks, as she fought to maintain her balance in Ethan's bulk.
"Concentration," she growled, Ethan's low voice unusual in her ears. The deal she'd made with Ethan last night—him in her, promising to teach her hockey—had been a dream, a fever dream. He wasn't there yet, and she was by herself. Business as usual.
She skated on, rehearsing the other players' action in her mind. A puck headed her way, and she swung, stick hitting the ice. The puck sailed by, and a groan arose from Jake, Ethan's boisterous teammate. "Cap, are you blind or what?" he yelled, his grin half-jest, half-question.
Lily's cheek burned beneath Ethan's smirk. "Just getting started," she snapped back, trying his smugness. She searched the bleachers for her own face—Ethan's—but they were deserted, except for a janitor sweeping up popcorn. Where was he? Probably causing havoc in her art class, snapping Mia's head off, destroying her life while she gagged beneath him.
Dan yelled out for a scrimmage, splitting the team in half. Lily's stomach was in knots as she fell into place, the puck being dropped before she could even concentrate. She skated after it, Ethan's good legs being awkward in hers. A teammate passed one over to her, and she attempted to swing, missing once more. Jake growled, skidding past. "Get it together, Ethan."
Her temper boiled. She wasn't Ethan, but she was going to be. For him, for herself, for their team. Her jaw was set as she plunged her blade deep into the ice. Another puck came her way, and she leaned once more, imagining the smooth motion she'd seen when she could slip away and watch games. Her stick hit the puck, and it shot out—at the goal.
The team lost their minds. Coach Dan nodded, a reluctant glint of admiration in his eyes. "That's more like it, Parker."
Lily's chest labored, Ethan's heartbeat pounding in her ears. She'd done it. A freak, maybe, but a victory. She risked a second glance at the bleachers—and there he was. Her own face, brown curls streaming from a hoodie, staring back. Ethan, in her body, arms crossed, his expression blank. Was he mad? Impressed? Her victory fluctuated.
Practice ended, and the team filed off the ice, Jake clapping her shoulder. "Better, cap. But you're still off. What's the deal?"
"Long week," she said, dodging his gaze. She unlaced Ethan's skates, her fingers aching from the effort of pretending. Jake lingered, his eyes narrowing. "You'd tell me if something was up, right?"
"Course," she lied, Ethan's voice stern. Jake didn't care but shrugged and left her sitting alone in the locker room.
She rummaged through Ethan's backpack and yanked out his phone, scrolling for messages. Nothing from "Lily"—Ethan. But her fingers brushed against the pendant in his pocket, its star-studded face now warm. It vibrated softly, like a heartbeat. She knit her brow, remembering Nora's words: It finds your truth. What was that meant to be?
The locker room door burst open and Ethan strode in, her own face contorted in his scowl. "You're a disaster out there," he snarled, Lily's soft voice filled with his venom. "That goal was lucky."
"Appreciate the pep talk," she launched, standing to despise over her own form. "Where were you? You promised to assist."
"Stuck in your stupid art class," he said, folding his arms. "Your nosy friend Mia kept asking me why I'm 'being weird.' You should get your people under control."
"They are not my 'people,' they're my friends," Lily retorted hotly. "And you are not doing a very good job of being me. Smile sometime."
He glared, his anger kindling her brown eyes to blaze. "This is not a game. If you murder my team—"
"I'm trying!" she shot back, Ethan's fury making his voice roar. "I scored, didn't I? Maybe you can take something from me and shut up."
He was going to answer when he closed his lips, her expression relaxing for an instant. "Fine," he snarled. "But we train tonight. No exceptions."
Before she could object, there was a shout from the front of the rink. "Lily?" In the doorway stood Lily's aunt Nora, a rainbow of tie-dye scarf a brilliant contrast to the grays of the rink. She regarded them, her eyes going back to the pendant Lily had jammed into her pocket.
"What are you doing here?" Lily demanded, pushing the pendant deep into her pocket. Ethan winced, her body tightening beside her.
Nora smiled mysteriously. "Just visiting with my favorite niece. And. her friend." She edged closer, eyes blazing with ferocity. "That pendant's radiating, you understand. The comet chose you two. locate each other's hearts, or you'll be stuck in this condition."
Lily's heart pounded. "The comet? Aunt Nora, what are you talking about?
"Later," Nora said, flicking her hand. "You've got too much on your plate. Just… believe the truth." She winked and vanished, and Lily stood looking at Ethan.
"She's crazy," Ethan said, but his voice—her voice—trembled.
"She's not," Lily said, fingers wrapped around the pendant. "This thing's real. And we're stuck until we figure it out."
He did not protest, only nodded, his curls jiggling. "Training. Seven on the nose. Don't be late."
As he walked away, Lily fell onto a bench, Ethan's figure sagging with exhaustion. Her head spun—Nora's caution, the pendant beam, the match hovering. She wasn't just fighting to be Ethan; she was fighting to be herself.
Ethan crossed campus to Lily's dorm, her sketchbook tucked under his arm. He'd found it in her backpack, the pages covered in sketches of him—on the ice, in school, smiling. Each one was detailed, almost worshipful, and it pulled at something in his chest. He'd dismissed her confession, but these sketches meant something he hadn't known.
Mia caught up to him outside the dorm, her eyes narrowed. "Lily, seriously, what's going on? You've been off all day."
"I'm fine," he said, her voice too sharp. Mia frowned, unconvinced, and he cursed himself. He had to be better at this, or Lily's life would unravel.
On the ice, Lily tied Ethan's skates, her resolve hardening. She'd set a target. She could set another one. She'd prove to them she was more than a spare, not to Jake, not to Coach, not to Ethan. The pendant vibrated in her pocket, a soft promise of more. She skimmed onto the fading light, ready to fight for her place in his life—and maybe, just maybe, in his heart.