all my dreams | trevor zegras

xviii. easy

"Sorry," she says, looking back over.

"So you don't have a boyfriend to come with you because he's actually playing, huh?" he says, his voice a little flat. "You could've just told me that."

"He's not my boyfriend," she says, whispering 'yet' to herself. "And I was in the process of turning you down. Sorry about that."

He doesn't reply, turning away from her and back to his group. She isn't too hurt for long, more thankful that he's not badgering her for special privileges because of her connection to the player or something like that. The game seems to be passing by quicker than normal and he's already scored two goals, glancing at her as they hit the back of the net. She had decided before the game started that he would be getting a kiss for every goal he scored, whether they were on his cheeks or lips (or even somewhere else). He just didn't know that yet.

      By the time the third period starts, she's so excited for the game to end so that she can meet him for real and they can finally go on their date. Especially because she's incredibly hungry and ready to dig into a giant serving of pasta and some breadsticks. He's playing one of the best games she's ever seen him play. The excitement is a shared sentiment, he's just as excited for this win to come to them so that he can take the hot blonde out - well, in- on their date. His eyes keep finding themselves looking at her, still somewhat jealous of the guy next to her that was obviously flirting with her. And all he can think of was the breathy gasp she let out when they had collided with the glass in front of her, wondering what other sounds he could elicit from her.

The game ends as a win for the Ducks, much to both of their enjoyment. She watches them celebrate on ice, both of the boys that know which one she is smacking the glass in front of her as they pass, lighting up her eyes and warming her heart. The fans start emptying out and she heads to the place Trevor told her to meet him at, a secluded area for just the friends and family of players, no press allowed. No one questions her or sends her a second glance as players start filing out of the locker rooms and to their loved ones. She knows she has to wait a few extra minutes, him having warned her they told him he was part of the press after the game. So she just scrolls through her phone, looking at her TikTok feed and trying to decide which of her favorite pasta places they're ordering from. Quickly, she becomes the only person waiting in the small hallway. And not too much longer after that, she sees someone heading out of the locker room and towards her. Her phone gets shoved in her pocket as she steps towards him.

"Hey, sweet cheeks," he says, grinning widely at her.

Any moment of insecurity she had is gone now and she's rushing towards him, throwing her arms around him in excitement. He returns the excitement, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her from the ground just a little bit to help the height difference. She grins into his hoodie, glad he isn't wearing a suit to leave the stadium while she's in her hockey gear. He resists the urge to press a kiss to the top of her head, mostly because he's already knocked the baseball cap on her head of center and he doesn't want it to fully fall off her head, but one arm is wrapped around her back and the other is holding the back of her neck. With the hand holding her, he gently squeezes and she chuckles into him.

      "Hi, hotshot," she mumbles, leaning her head back to look up at him. "Good game. You earned yourself two kisses."

       He tilts his head and raises his eyebrows in amusement, "Oh yeah? How?"

       "You scored two goals, babe," she informs him, wiggling out of his hold and instantly regretting it. "And I decided you get a kiss for each goal."

      "If assists count, then I get three more," he taunts, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth for just a moment. "You ready to get out of here, Wyn?"