Stolen Jerseys / ✓

3.01: chapter thirty

S C O T T

"It's our friendship anniversary!" Connor cried, grabbing the pillow behind him to whack me in the head with it, "We have to do something!"

Connor tended to make up a lot of fake holidays and anniversaries. Back in high school, he had tried to convince our chemistry teacher that there was such thing as a Connor Day, and he said it was when you give a present to someone you know named Connor. Con had even tried to convince him mom, once, that there was a new holiday called Son Day, where you bought your son whatever he wanted.

I had never heard of our 'friendship anniversary'. For as long as I had known Connor, he had never once mentioned our friendship anniversary. But now he was saying that I couldn't go out (or back to sleep) because we just had to celebrate and honor our anniversary.

"It's not even today," I mumbled, snatching the pillow out of his hand and hugging it to my chest, "I just want to take a nap."

"And you'll have other days to nap," Con promised, grabbing my discarded shoes off the floor and shoving them towards me. He turned to me and pouted, honey-colored eyes going wide, "Now that you have Elle, I'm basically the ignored best friend, so I'll be damned if you skip out on our anniversary!"

"We live in the same apartment," I said, but reluctantly shoved my shoes on anyway, "It's kind of hard to ignore you."

Connor glared at me and I sighed, holding up my hands. I knew there was no getting out of this; when Connor wanted something, he eventually got his way. And it was better to just agree with him then argue until I got so annoyed that I agreed anyway.

Connor grinned and stood up and I rolled my eyes, pulling my phone out of my pocket. Elle hadn't shown up to practice today, and I had gotten a little worried when she didn't answer my text. I bit my lip and snatched my wallet off the table (because, really, I always needed it when I went out with Con), and clicked on my text to Elle, just in time to see her respond.

From Elle :)):

yeah, sorry, i'm just sick ): dad said i can't come to practice because i might get you sick, because, like.. you know. kissing.

I blushed and laughed at her message, a grin breaking out on my face. It was still a bit weird to think that Coach Monroe had accepted Elle and I dating, and it was even weirder to think about him telling Elle she couldn't come to practice because she might get me sick.. By kissing.

To Elle :)):

ew don't come near me with your germs, thanks.

I spent a good couple of minutes texting Elle (I admitted that I really wouldn't mind if she came near me with her germs), before Connor came sprinting down the hallway. His hair was a mess, and one sleeve of his sweater was rolled up higher than the other, but he was still grinning childishly, brown eyes gleaming.

Con snatched my phone out of my hand and I glared, attempting to pull it back, but he just shoved it in his back pocket, "No phones," he scolded, "They're distracting."

At the same time Connor said that, his phone rung and he pulled it out of his pocket, a goofy smile on his face. I snorted and snatched his phone out of his hand, shoving it in my back pocket. Con's eyes went wide as he stared at me and I just shrugged, shooting him a satisfied smirk before pulling the door open and slipping out.

Connor laughed and closed the door, falling into step beside me. I was exhausted, and I had just gotten changed out of my jersey (it was completely amazing to see Wilson written on the back of a Marlies' jersey), when Con demanded that we have our friendship anniversary. All I wanted to do was go to bed, honestly.