Chapter Text
Jane’s final spin halts, the blade of her skates striking sharply against the ice.
“Again.”
Without hesitation, she immediately pushes off, launching into the air with effortless precision. Will follows a second later.
They flow smoothly around each other, matching each other’s speed without daring to overtake. They have never felt the need to compete with each other, not really.
They were always told how similar they were. As if it didn’t go without saying.
They were twins, after all.
But on the ice, it was a completely different story.
Jane skated like no one else. Every movement she made was calculated, precise, and utterly flawless.
Will was different.
While his sister attacked the ice, he merged with it. His skating was quieter, threaded with intention. Each turn was done carefully, and each spin was drawn out just enough to mean something. He built their choreography as if he were a storyteller, pouring his heart into every movement. And Jane, never questioning him, followed it.
And together, they were incredible.
Their balance, precision, and near poetry earned them the title of the Wonder Twins.
The name had followed them for years. Commentators, sponsors, and even fans adored it.
Their next competition would be their biggest yet: regionals. That meant more press, scouts, and unbearable “fans” pretending they’d always known they’d succeed.
Coach blew the whistle, and the music cut.
“Again, from the start this time.”
Jane stretched her arms out and got back into position. Will nodded and placed one foot in front of the other, waiting for the signal.
Regionals meant judges from out of state. It meant a bigger audience. Even worse, it meant headlines and interviews.
Jane thrived on that kind of pressure. It only made her more dedicated.
Will hated it. It made him worry too much.
Jane seemed to notice his anxiousness, giving him a reassuring nod.
He gave her a small smile, and they set off once again.
.
.
.
A small wave of applause followed them onto the ice, scattered cheers from parents, younger skaters, and a handful of spectators.
The twins beamed at them, bright and practiced, slipping easily into their performance faces even without a large audience.
As the noise settled, Will allowed his eyes to drift toward the stands, as he always did.
Jane never looked up when she skated. She trusted her movements, the ice, but most importantly, Will. The audience didn’t matter to her, at least not while she was performing. They were irrelevant.
Will preferred to know who was watching, whether to keep an eye out for any creeps or to ease his nerves.
The bleachers were busier than usual for a practice run , a couple of reporters sitting in the front row, but nothing too crazy. As his gaze traveled further back, he noticed someone unfamiliar.
He didn’t look like anyone Will had seen before during practice. Dark hoodie. Baseball cap pulled low. Sitting in a manspread, arms crossed over his chest.
He wasn’t clapping or filming. Just watching.
The music began to play before Will could question it any longer, so he shifted his focus back onto the ice. Jane’s weight shifted into his hands as he spun her around to the beat.
They completed their performance flawlessly, earning a louder round of applause from the crowd. Will lifted his head, his eyes immediately landing on the back row.
Except the seat was now empty.
He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of unease. But seeing his sister beside him, beaming with joy after yet another successful run, he let it slip from his mind.
It didn’t matter.
.
.
.
Steam still clung to the mirror as he stepped out of the bathroom, a towel slung low around his shoulders. The apartment was quiet, Jane had left not too long ago to go back to her place.
His muscles ached the way they usually did after a long day of practice. It was comforting in a way, living proof of his hard work. He smiled softly as he sat on his bed.
He reached toward his nightstand, picking up his phone while scrunching his damp hair with the towel.
A notification popped up on his screen. Not from Jane. Not from Coach.
TikTok.
He squinted.
The thumbnail was grainy, a screenshot from their practice run earlier that day. It was zoomed in too far, almost pixelated.
The caption read:
IS THAT MIKE. MOTHERFUCKING. WHEELER. IN THE STANDS?? HELP ME???? #WonderTwins #GreatParkIce&FivePointArena #MikeWheeler #Hello???
Will frowned, then clicked on it.
The video was shaky, taken from afar, probably from the back row. Jane was mid-spin on the ice. Will was looking up at her, grinning proudly.
He cringed inwardly at the video of himself. He’d always avoided fan clips; they somehow always made him look strange.
Still, he kept watching.
The camera drifted toward the crowd, searching, before finally settling on a figure seated several rows up.
Dark hoodie. Cap pulled low.
Will’s face snapped in recognition.
The guy from earlier.
Even blurred, certain features stood out, a sharp jawline, pursed lips, dark curls poking out of his cap.
He clicked on the comment section.
“Holy shit. What is he doing here in Cali?”
“Canadian hockey player sitting around watching two figure skaters practicing? This is unheard of, lmao.”
“I could recognize my king anywhere.”
“MIKE WHEELER MENTION?????”
“Is he there for Jane??”
That one caught his eye. He scrolled back and clicked on the replies.
“New ship?”
“Hockey x figure skating power couple? We won??”
“He’s been liking her posts.”
“This is so random. Get a life.”
He found himself scrolling through the endless replies, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. What were they even talking about?
When he finally scrolled past the video, another popped up.
And another.
And then another.
More videos. Different angles. Slowed down. Zoomed in and out.
Someone had made a side-by-side edit of their performance and Mike staring at them from the stands, arms crossed over his chest.
The comments were worse on that one.
Flooded with speculation, screenshots, and excitement.
Jane will hate this, he thought.
Or maybe she wouldn’t.
She had a talent for seeing the positive side of things.
She’d probably say something like, This will be great publicity for our next performance.
Even so, he couldn’t help but feel protective of his sister.
He opened a new browser tab, hastily typing in Michael Wheeler.
The search results loaded instantly.
NHL legend.
Nineteen years old.
Featured last month on Hockey Night in Canada.
Media favorite.
Clutch king.
Will stared at the photos first.
Press conferences. Game shots. Promotional images where he smiled like he knew exactly what the cameras wanted from him.
Of course.
He clicked on the first interview that popped up.
The video showed him sitting at a table, microphones and cameras shoved into his face. It didn’t seem to bother him. His arms were folded loosely in front of him. He didn’t fidget. Didn’t waver. He listened to each question carefully before answering.
“So, Wheeler, I bet it’s hard to focus on the game with all those girls screamin’ your name in the crowd, huh?” the reporter chuckled.
Mike gave him a small smile. “Well, what can I say? Comes with the job, am I right?”
Will paused the video.
Who the hell does this guy think he is?
He let out a huff and continued his research.
There were numerous highlights of his best games, along with famous quotes about leadership, discipline, and staying focused.
Will exhaled slowly through his nose.
He switched back to TikTok.
The video had doubled in views, the like-to-comment ratio growing exponentially.
“HES SO THERE FOR JANE.”
“IM LITERALLY SCREAMING.”
“This is perfect, she deserves someone on her level.”
Will’s jaw tightened.
On her level? Seriously? This guy?
He scrolled further. More edits. More comments. More zoom-ins.
It was ridiculous. All of it. He didn’t even know this guy.
For all they knew, Mike could’ve shown up on a stupid dare. Or out of boredom. Or simply to shock his fans and gain even more attention.
Not like he needed it.
He replayed the clip, searching for any sign as to why he’d been there.
His expression was unreadable. Just watching.
That didn’t mean anything.
So why were they making such a big deal out of it?
Will hated the idea of some guy, especially a hockey player, deciding he was interested in his sister because she looked good under arena lights.
Jane didn’t need headlines built around her dating life instead of her career.
She didn’t need some random guy who was used to cameras following him everywhere barging into her personal life like it was a side quest.
Will locked his phone.
He opened it again a second later.
Another article mentioned that Mike cross-trained during the off-season, spending time on figure ice to improve his edge control.
So maybe he wasn’t entirely out of place.
Still, that didn’t explain why he’d stayed for almost an entire practice session. Didn’t explain why he’d chosen their rink.
Finally, he forced himself to settle.
If Mike Wheeler was going to be a problem, Will would see it coming.
He always did.